Chapter 5

Lara twisted the car keys for the umpteenth time still nothing happened. The car didn’t start, or even attempt to start. It just kept raising her hopes every time it made that kick-starting sound, and shattering that hope when it eventually didn’t budge. In undiluted frustration, anger included, she pounded at the innocent steering wheel till she felt some sort of satisfaction seep in. Yes, you may have guessed right.

Two days later she was still fuming. Especially as this so-called ‘Tristan Aguilar’ had returned the bouquet of flowers with yet another note saying: SO . . . WHAT TIME SHOULD I PICK YOU UP FOR DINNER?

She hadn’t met him but she already hated him. Not only did he have zero respect for the laws of courtship and marriage, she perceived him to be hubristic.

Who the hell did he think he was?

Was she supposed to fall on her feet and rain appreciations all over him because he had agreed to marry her? Someone had to let him know that the world does not revolve around his spoiled ass.

Climbing out of the now stuffy car, she retrieved her phone from her purse to dial Davies. Her hands were already weak from torturing them with the work a pestle was meant for.

On the first ring, the line cracked and Davis answered.

“I thought you said this car was in perfect condition?”

“It is.”

“Then why has it broken down halfway to my destination!?”

Davies swallowed, paused for a few minutes, before speaking. “Calm down, Lara. Where are you? I’ll come get you.”

“No. I’ll be late for my interview. You know what, I’ll order an Uber. Just come get the car. I’m on the highway leading to Cerro de San Pedro.”

“Okay. Go on, then. And good luck on your interview.”

After she hung up the phone, she ordered an Uber which arrived no less than five minutes later. Seated in the car, Lara managed to pull herself together and direct her thoughts to the situation at hand—rather, beforehand. She should be thinking about the coming events and not irrelevant things like. . .you know who. It was a purposeful decision not to look him up on the internet.

Maybe she thought seeing him might make her hate him less. Or even at all because of her toxic relationship with empathy. This time, she was committed to staying angry at him and her mother and angry she would remain until further notice.

From her hand bag, she fished out her small mirror and a purse which contained some makeup essentials like mascara, powder, and her signature beige lip gloss to retouch her makeup.

Following this, she smoothed her curly hair which was packed in an afro puff high bun, before adjusting the sleeveless peplum blouse that was worn over a same colored pencil skirt.

Satisfied with the look, she went over the possible answers to the questions that might come up in the interview.

Potential question number one: HOW DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THIS POSITION?

How did Lara manage to land a job interview just two days after she landed in the City? That was all thanks to her lifetime friend, Rosa. After her mother had threatened to throw her out of the house if she didn’t succumb to getting married to Tristan, she decided that she needed to earn her money and be prepared for the inevitable. Because there was absolutely no way she was getting married now, more so to a man like Tristan Aguilar. Two days ago, Rosa and Lara had met up to catch up and reminisce about the good old days. In the course of their conversations, she mentioned that she was going to search for a job and Rosa was kind enough to inform her of the recent opening in the Marketing department of the company she worked for. Without hesitation, she sent her CV to the head of Human Resources and the next day, she received an email requesting an interview.

Okay. Checked. Lara made a mental applause. Surely, she wasn’t going to include all the family drama in her response. That was just the long answer of the short answer she was going to provide.

Potential question number two: WHY DO YOU WANT TO WORK AT THIS COMPANY? Truthfully, it was the first and only option. Well, there was her father’s multi-million dollar company, and he would welcome her in a heartbeat but there was a major problem—her mother worked there as well. Worse, she was Vice President. No way she was going to subject herself to mental and emotional trauma both at home and at work.

Thirty minutes later, she managed an early arrival to her destination. She quickly paid off the Uber driver and climbed out of the car.

What stood before her was an enormous state of the art building—at least three storeys but the width was larger than life. Rosa didn’t fail to mention that it was one of the biggest companies in San Luis. And the third largest in the whole of Mexico. So, she should have expected to be wowed by the architectural designs of such a building.

Bracing herself, with her head held high, she put one stiletto clad foot before her. Then another. And another. Slowly, yet briskly, she proceeded to the reception of the building where Rosa was already waiting. Panicking, even.

Rosaline Cabrera, or as everybody liked to call her, ‘Rosa,’ was a petite woman. About five foot in height. Perhaps her most distinct feature was her ice blue eyes which elicited warmth in anyone who ever stared into it. She and Lara had been best friends since elementary school. They were so close to one another that sometimes, people dubbed them to be non-identical twins. Running away from home did nothing but make their bond twice as strong. Although they didn’t see each other often, they communicated three sixty five out of three hundred and sixty five days in a year. She was probably the only reason Lara didn’t feel the impact of having zero friends in Boston. But nobody needs to know that. Especially her siblings to whom she’s bragged about having the best nine years of her life.

“Oh, thank goodness. You’re here!” Visible relief washed over Rosa’s face. She pulled her into a tight hug that only made Lara wonder if there was a podcast that mentioned the world coming to an end—today. “I was getting worried,” Rosa continued. “Because you wouldn’t intentionally miss this interview. You’re at least three minutes late, you know.”

Lara shrugged her shoulders, smoothening the crease on her blouse. “I had a minor setback. But I’m here. And I’m ready. What should I do? Where do I go?”

“First you have to sign over there—” She pointed to the reception counter. “And I’ll take you to the second floor where a dozen other women are waiting to be interviewed.”

“A dozen?” Her mouth hung open. Never mind what that did to her chances of getting this job? “Are they giving out gift cards or what?”

Rosa emitted a chuckle. “I wish. Many women like to apply here.”

“Why?”

“Because the boss is famous. Little do they know, working for Mr. Aguilar is a nudnik—the fastest route to a mental hospital.”

The name eluded her. But that face didn’t.

As Rosa was speaking, a man dressed in a black button down shirt which was left untucked in deep black slacks waltzed into the reception, holding a suit jacket in one hand and a briefcase in another. She would have ignored his presence— more like she wouldn’t have gaped so unabashedly—had it not been for those familiar hooded dark hazel eyes, and long nose. As well as the jet black hair.

It was Inevitable not to recognize that face considering the great deal of time her and Rosa had spent hiding by the stairs just to watch him play football every Thursday. Back in high school, he was the dream of every girl—and the socialite of the year. Literally. He got an award for being such a playboy.

And she was so devastated when he graduated. Everybody was. Except the boys, that is. Lara couldn’t believe her eyes. Over a decade later, he still looked as dashing as ever. And with that body build—goodness! It was high school all over again.

Surreptitiously, she nudged Rosa’s side to get her attention, effectively stopping the long speech of instructions nobody was listening to.

“Is that not Facundo? High school football captain? Wow. You didn’t mention that he worked here. How could you ever miss that?”

“Because he doesn’t,” Rosa had said when she whirled in the direction of Lara’s gaze. “That, there is the boss. That boss. And nobody calls him Facundo anymore. It’s Tristan Aguilar now.”