Chapter One: Sabrina

Sabrina

Oh God, I hope I don't throw up. What a horrible first impression that would be.

Sabrina swallowed down her nervousness and shifted a bit in her seat, twirling her auburn hair in her fingers. Anything to distract herself from the swarm of butterflies that was currently terrorizing the inside of her belly. The eggs and bacon breakfast had seemed like a good idea a few hours ago, but she began to question it now that she was about to face the most important interview of her life and it didn't want to stay down.

The air of the small square interview room was cold as the air conditioner refused to turn off. It was a stark contrast to the heavy, humid air outside and in a few more minutes, Sabrina thought she might be able to see her breath. She rubbed her arms, wishing she had worn more than a thin dress shirt. She hadn’t brought a jacket, or even a cardigan. Besides the fact that she didn’t own one that was near nice enough for the occasion, she hadn’t even thought about it until now, and why would she? Summers were exceptionally hot and stuffy in Memphis.

She’d arrived ten minutes early just to be safe, but those extra minutes were now passing painstakingly slowly. She wiped her sweating palms nervously against the fabric of her skirt. She’d worn an ensemble of some of the nicest pieces of clothing she owned: a long black pencil skirt, her favorite black heels with a silver buckle near the toe, and had even borrowed a slim, light blue blouse from her mother.

It was best to fill the time preparing, she’d decided, and had since spent the last several minutes running over some scripted answers to a few predicable questions.

I’m an especially hard worker and it’s one of my greater strengths, although I’m equally dependable and loyal. I found your ad online and immediately thought my traits aligned with the description.

Then came her Aunt Faye’s voice at an internal pitch louder than Sabrina’s own thoughts. Don’t overthink it, she’d said. You’re a smart girl with a good head on your shoulders, act like yourself and that alone will be enough. A subtle smile formed in the corner of her mouth as she recalled her aunt’s prep speech the night prior.

A dark table loomed in front of Sabrina. On it was an empty notepad and a single pen. On the wall behind the desk was a pane of glass that Sabrina recognized as a two-way mirror. She'd worked at a retail shop that had one in the security office. It had a different tint to it or something. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she knew that it was no regular piece of glass. Instinctively, she’d sat facing the mirror, wondering if there was someone on the other side.

For that reason, she tried to maintain a stoic expression as she waited, desperately doing anything to keep her nerves from showing on her face. It’d also kept her from checking the wall clock too frequently, not wanting to give off an anxious impression.

Any minute now, she thought, resisting the urge to check her watch.

The unhinging of the outside door handle was the first thing she heard before the door opened slowly. Whoever was behind it was concluding a conversation before stepping in. The voice was feminine.

“No, that is exactly what needs to happen,” the woman said. “Take care of it, please.”

A well-dressed lady stepped through the door and shut it delicately behind her. She was wearing black dress pants with a tight fit around her waist and thighs. She had a thin white shirt tucked into them, with long sleeves and a collar that lent her a business-like appearance.

“Hello,” the woman said, while extending a hand. “I’m Valetta. We spoke on the phone.”

“I remember you,” Sabrina said, standing up to shake her hand. “It’s great to meet you in person.”

The first phone interview had mainly consisted of standard interview questions, but she knew to expect a much more thorough inquiry for their in person meeting. Her past interview experiences never involved anything too intricate and were always designed for simple jobs, ones where her personality wasn’t much of a focus. Getting hired was always easy, but making enough money to pay for college was not. This job, however, would make the goal attainable for the first time in her life, and that was exactly why this interview was so crucial.

The job sounded simple enough. She'd simply be the personal assistant for a traveling foreigner, but the pay for this position was several grades above any wage she’d ever made before. Since it was only for a limited amount of time, she could pick up with school immediately after. She couldn't have designed a better summer job.

“Please take a seat.” Valetta spoke the words with a thick, but pleasing, accent. It was something Sabrina remembered from their first conversation, which made sense given the job description. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Sabrina did as she was asked while Valetta sat down in the chair on the other side of the desk. Valetta set down a some papers and her phone, and organized them before looking up.

“Thank you for meeting us here,” Valetta said, a polite smile crossing her face. She was probably a few years older than Sabrina's mother, but with less worn features.

“Oh, of course,” Sabrina said. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“It actually worked out well for us to come to Memphis,” Valetta replied. “This hotel had an open room and everything after the flight was pretty effortless. After the difficulties we've had setting up this trip, this was a welcome change.”

“You've had a difficult trip? Is there anything I can do to help?” Sabrina asked, in an attempt to make the conversation a little less formal.

“Thank you for your offer. Our current trip plans changed, and we're having to hire a local instead of bringing our own staff,” she said, shaking her head. “But, we couldn’t be happier with the amenities here. Memphis seems like a wonderful city, at least from the small amount that I've been able to explore so far.”

“It is a very fun city,” Sabrina agreed. “The food here is some of the best in the United States, not to mention the music. It's an amazing place, as long as you can handle the heat.”

“Yes, it’s hot where we come from too,” she said, as she made an upward sweeping motion with her hand. “But you Americans love the A/C.”

“It's true,” Sabrina said with a chuckle. “We like air conditioning almost as much as we like Walmart and hot dogs. You know, the finer things in life.”

Valetta bowed her head in a short laugh. “When we last spoke, you said that you grew up here in Memphis. Out of curiosity, have you done much traveling?”

“Not much,” Sabrina said, instead of not at all.

“Perhaps that’s

about to change,” Valetta said, fixing her gaze on Sabrina as she laid her palm on the folder in front of her. “I’d like to get started.”

“Sounds great,” Sabrina said, as her heart thudded behind her rib cage.

“Wonderful,” said Valetta with a perfect smile. “I'd like to go over the job responsibilities again. I know we went over them over the phone, but it is crucial you understand them.”

Sabrina nodded. “Of course.”

“This is a temporary personal assistant position,” Valetta started off her speech. “Above all, my client’s privacy is the most important thing. Many of the position's responsibilities are designed to protect his identity and ensure that his whereabouts are not discovered. This means that you will be the face of almost all procedural requirements. Hotel, restaurant, and all other reservations will be made in your name. If room service is desired, you will order it, receive it, and do all the talking to staff members. You will also clean the room yourself so that no member of the house keeping staff enters my client's quarters. Just to be clear, this isn’t a ‘bodyguard’ position. However, if a difficult situation should arise, you will be entrusted with prioritizing the security of my client’s identity in every decision you make. Think of the job as something between a maid and personal assistant. Does that make sense?”

“Absolutely,” Sabrina said with a nod. She'd never heard of a job like this, but she was ready to work.

“While all of this precaution may seem excessive, I promise you that it is not. People of all sorts, paparazzi especially, have been known to stalk and harass my client,” Valetta said. “I don't want to turn his trip into a covert operation, but to simply to ensure that it can be enjoyed with the smallest number of incidents possible.”

“Of course,” Sabrina said, attempting to demonstrate that she was following more than she really was. The secrecy, the significance, the all-around mystery; it was all a little strange, she thought. Strange and intense. But the pay was equally as intense, and that’s what mattered.

“Good. Then I want to confirm that you're willing to do everything I just mentioned,” Valetta said, her expression stalling as she looked directly at Sabrina.

“I am,” Sabrina assured her.

“Excellent,” Valetta replied with a smile. “Then, the next thing I would like you to do is try to identify some photos.”

“Okay,” Sabrina replied, hoping her smile didn't show her nervousness. She had no idea that she was going to have to identify photos for a job. Her brain immediately went a million miles a minute, trying to recall every photo she'd ever seen and how it could relate to the job of a personal assistant.

Valetta opened the manila folder in front of her and removed nearly a dozen glossy photos. “I’m going to show you pictures of several different people and I’d like you to tell me whether or not you recognize them.”

“I'll do my best,” Sabrina said, overwhelmed with curiosity. She'd never had to do anything like this before on a job interview.

“I’d like to move through them fairly quickly,” Valetta said. “So if you’re able to identify the subject, say their name. If not, a simple ‘no’ will be just fine.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

Valetta slid the first photo across the desk so that it was facing Sabrina. It was a picture of a blonde man with a thick beard. He was wearing a grey suit with a black undershirt. He was handsome, and Sabrina could have pictured him as a model for something, but he definitely didn't look familiar.

“No,” Sabrina said. “I'm afraid not.”

Valetta pulled the photo back and immediately turned over a different one. This picture was of a different man. He had wavy black hair that fell to his chin and was wearing a white button dress shirt tucked into grey slacks. His features were striking, with dark almond-shaped eyes and Cupid's bow lips. Gorgeous, no doubt. But still, not familiar.

“No,” Sabrina said again.

Valetta made no expression as she exchanged the photos again. This one was of an older man with a grey beard. He was wearing a fuzzy black robe, which could hardly contain his large gut. He was looking toward the sun and squinting. He appeared confident and proud, but there wasn't a single thing about him that seemed familiar, other than she could easily imagine him living at her family's trailer park.

This has got to be the strangest interview process I've ever been a part of, she thought. And I must be failing miserably. I don't know a single one of these.

“Nope,” Sabrina said, her forehead hot and growing warmer. The cold air was harsh against her clammy skin and for the first time she noticed her back soaked in sweat. She wanted this job so badly that these photos were becoming frustrating.

Valetta retrieved another picture from her folder and instantly Sabrina’s chest inflated. She knew this one, or at least she thought she did.

“Oh,” she exclaimed. “That’s, um, that’s…” Her head fell into her palms as she racked her brain. “That’s that actor.. he's Irish...” When Sabrina looked up again she was glad to see Valetta smiling, as if she was amused by the struggle for her to place the actor. “That’s the guy whose daughter is always getting kidnapped in every movie.”

Valetta laughed. “Liam Neeson?” she suggested.

“Yes,” Sabrina said, allowing herself to join Valetta’s laughing. “It was on the tip of my tongue.”

“That’s okay, you passed,” Valetta said, and Sabrina wondered if that meant that she hadn’t passed with the other pictures. She slid another picture so that it was facing Sabrina.

It was a picture of a young blonde woman wearing a red dress. She appeared to be dancing in a rainstorm in the middle of some city, with taxi cabs parked behind her.

“No, I'm afraid not.” Sabrina’s throat tightened and again she felt the presence of sweat on her hands. She had no idea if it was good or bad that she didn't recognize any of these people. She had to assume not.

Valetta retrieved another photo, this one Sabrina recognized instantly.

“Oh, that’s the Queen of England,” Sabrina said, proudly. More than the queen herself, though, Sabrina had recognized the dogs she was posed with.

At least I got that one, she thought.

Valetta continued with several more photographs. Several were of famous actors and celebrities, but many more seemed to be of ordinary people. Some faces were even repeated, but in different poses. Sabrina hoped that the fact that she had no idea who ninety percent of the photos were wasn't going to cost her this job.

“Good,” Valetta said, collecting the photos and sliding them back into the folder. “I realize that this might seem like a silly test, but I assure you that we do it for a reason. There is a method to our madness.”

“I'm happy to do whatever you need,” Sabrina replied. She smiled and tried to ignore the feeling of failure weighing down on her shoulders.

“Now, I have some questions for you.” Valetta tucked the manila folder under her pad of paper and poised her pen to write. “ I know this is probably a very cliché question, but I’d like to hear you talk about your strengths.”

It might have been cliché, but it was the exact question Sabrina needed. She knew how to answer this question, and it gave her confidence after the failure of the images.

“Certainly. I think my biggest strength is my work ethic. I come from humble beginnings, but it has only ever been a motivational tool for me. I’ve always believed that hard work pays off and I’ve approached every job I’ve ever had with a mindset that I’m going to give it my all, no matter what. I also believe that my work ethic naturally translates to being a loyal and dependable employee.”

Valetta nodded and marked something on her pad of paper. “And being a hard worker, have you had any experience doing maid work or acting as someone’s assistant?”

“I have actually,” Sabrina said, recalling a summer many years ago between her junior and senior year of high school. “I worked at a maid service for a few months one summer. We usually cleaned anywhere from three to five different homes a day.” She paused, then added, “But you could pick up extra houses if you finished early, so I did that pretty often as well.”

“Excellent,” Valetta said. Sabrina exhaled softly, as if she’d just made it through the first of nine innings.

One question down, a million to go. Remain calm and speak slowly, she reminded herself.

“Can you tell me about other jobs you’ve had, Sabrina?”

“Of course. My first job was as a dishwasher while I was in high school, but I became a waitress when I graduated.” She paused. Here was where she wished she could say she went to school or had done something with her life, but she hadn't. She'd just worked instead of going to college so that bills were paid and food was on the table. “I still work there, in addition to my retail position.”

“You currently work two positions?” Valetta asked, her pen poised above the paper.

“Yes,” Sabrina said with a nod. “I'm a hard worker and these positions have given me a fair amount of experience dealing with people and have taught me a lot about what it takes to make a customer happy.”

“Quite the handy skill set,” Valetta said, looking up from her notes. “And that’s actually a great segue into my next topic. I’m going to ask you a few questions about hypothetical situations that might arise while on the job. Take a moment to think about it and then tell me how you’d respond.”

Sabrina nodded.

“Picture this scenario,” Valetta said. “Say you are out with my client, a local businessman, in a public place and a stranger approaches the two of you. The stranger claims to know my client, but clearly that is not the case. Also, this man happens to strike you as being slightly suspicious. What would be your response in a situation like this?”

“Regardless of whether or not the stranger seemed suspicious, I’d attempt to consult your client and follow his lead. If he's uncomfortable with the stranger, then that person is not to be trusted,” Sabrina replied. “You said that I'm not a bodyguard, so in this instance, I would try to alert his security or find a way for us to get to a safe place.”

“Good answer,” Valetta said, her lips curling up into a pleased smile. “Let me give you another situation. While sightseeing, my client, a well-known public figure, sees a nice bar and decides he’d like to grab a drink and spend an evening downtown. You join him, but also notice that while enjoying himself he’s become involved with a female who’s had a bit too much to drink and is now drawing unnecessary attention to my client. How would you respond?”

Sabrina paused. This question was a potential minefield, but she felt confident she could answer it. She'd dealt with plenty of women like that as a waitress.

“It depends on what the client wants,” Sabrina replied. “I'd hate to ruin an evening for him, so if he wants the woman to continue with him, I'd find a way to get them to a more private location. If he does not want the woman with him, I'd find a way to separate them. However, it is up to the client.”

Valetta smiled slightly and her eyes flicked toward the mirror. “How would you separate them, if that is what the client wished?”

“First, I would pay the woman's bar tab and then tell the woman that she had something in her teeth and that she should go check the mirror,” Sabrina answered. “While she was away, the client would leave the bar. I would have the bartender tell the woman an emergency came up and he had to leave.”

“That would solve the problem.” Valetta frowned slightly. “But why pay her bar tab?”

“If the goal is to avoid unnecessary attention, a happy customer is always better than one who feels that she has been jilted. In a drunken state, the woman could easily believe that he'd left her with the bill and would come looking for him,” Sabrina explained. “You said he was a public figure, so this way, there would be no public backlash.”

“Excellent answer,” Valetta said with an approving nod. She smiled and turned to face the two-way mirror, obviously anticipating someone to receive her comment from the other side. “I have a few more questions for you-”

Her phone buzzed on the table with an incoming message, cutting her off. Valetta glanced at it and smiled.

“Actually, if you don’t mind, I’m going to leave the room for a moment,” Valetta said, pocketing her phone. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Of course,” Sabrina said, noticing that her palms were clammy enough that it was uncomfortable. She wiped them on her skirt under the table, but she wasn't sure it did much good.

I blew it, she thought and tried to tame her disappointment before it turned to tears. While she felt she'd answered the questions well, she knew she'd bombed the photo section. Plus, the fact that the interviewer was leaving in the middle of the interview was never a good sign.

What the hell kind of interview is this anyway? Am I interviewing for a job, or a spot on a game show? She tried not to think about it, since she knew it would make her cry.

Part of her wanted to stand up and leave before Valetta returned to say that she didn’t get the job because of her poor pop culture identification, or whatever it was that she had been trying to learn about Sabrina during the barrage of strange photos.

The floor was crumbling beneath her, or so it felt, and the prospect of finally getting a college education was actively shattering along with it. This job was her first real ticket to a better life, but she could feel it slipping through her fingers.

Valetta reentered the room and gave her a warm smile.

Sabrina clenched her hands in preparation for bad news.

Valetta took her time sitting down. She no longer carried the manila folder and instead had a large stack of papers. Sabrina hoped they weren't more photos for her to identify.

“Before we continue, do you have any questions for me?” Valetta asked as if she had never left.

“Um... no?” Sabrina's mind went blank. Way to impress your potential employer, she thought.

“Before we go any further, I need you to sign this nondisclosure agreement.” Valetta slid the packet of paper across the table. “It's fairly standard, but it basically says that you won't tell anyone who you met here today.”

“Okay,” Sabrina replied. She read through the paperwork, trying her best to understand the dense legalese wording. It matched with what Valetta said, so after a moment, Sabrina signed the paperwork and sent it back across the table.

“Excellent.” Valetta turned in her seat and gently tapped her knuckle on the glass behind her. Then she stood and went to stand by the door.

The door creaked open, and a man stepped into the room. Sabrina recognized him instantly from one of the photos.

It's the guy from the second picture. The one with the shoulder-length black hair and beautiful dark eyes.

The man was tall and wore an expensive-looking white dress shirt tucked into a crisp pair of dark grey slacks. It was a similar outfit to the one he had been wearing in the photo. Immediately, it felt as if the room got smaller, his large persona crowding the space.

He nodded toward Sabrina with a smile that grew from the hard edge of his chin and curled into his lips.

“I’d like to introduce you to Marco... Smith,” Valetta said. The way she said it made it obvious that 'Smith' was not the man's real name.

The man’s smile grew even more as he neared the table and extended a hand while Sabrina stood to shake it. His grip was firm, but his skin gentle and smooth.

“Hello,” he said with another nod. His voice was tuned with a deep accent that was as melodic as it was foreign.

“Hello,” Sabrina said, a smile spreading across her face. “I’m Sabrina.”

“I know who you are,” the man said, still smiling. It was then that Sabrina realized she was still gripping his hand. She quickly released and sat back down. “I came in to offer you the job.”

“Really?” Sabrina said, a little shocked that she was being offered the position on the spot. It was a good thing she was sitting, or her knees might have buckled.

“Really,” Marco assured her, taking a seat in the chair Valetta had vacated a moment earlier.

“Marco and I feel that you would be great for the position,” Valetta said and turned toward Marco, who nodded in agreement.

“I think you would be wonderful,” Marco said, every word sounding like its own subtle, musical note. His accent had a slightly different ring than Valetta’s, whose chipper voice overshadowed her inflections.

Marco was directly across from Sabrina with both forearms rested against the table. The sleeves of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, creating contrast against his tan skin. At the end of his wrist was a tightly fitted gold Rolex.

Sabrina’s first thought was that she’d just been hired to assist some sort of model, a rather wealthy one, looking to spend some time in the United States in order to escape his fame. She also toyed with the idea that he was a foreign athlete. Although concealed, his frame and shoulders indicated a sturdy figure beneath a layer of expensive clothing.

“Wow,” Sabrina said, taken aback both by the sudden offer and the aura of the man sitting in front of her.

Both Valetta and Marco smiled back at her, as though they anticipated her level of shock.

“Take your time making a decision,” Valetta said. “But do keep in mind that we hope to begin traveling before the end of the week.”

“Can I accept the job right now?” Sabrina asked, giddy with excitement.

Valetta’s eyebrows rose with a smile. “Of course you can.”

Sabrina allowed herself a soft laugh. “Is that okay or did I just make myself look incredibly desperate?”

This time it was Marco who answered. “It’s very okay,” he said. “I was hoping you’d say 'yes'.”

Sabrina forced herself to meet his gaze, which was concentrated and direct. His dark eyes were highlighted by the definition of his facial features. They were large and carried a deep and intriguing intensity.

“Okay then,” Valetta said, feeding off of Marco. “You’re hired!”

A weight that she didn’t even realize was there lifted from Sabrina’s shoulders. For the first time that morning, she felt at peace. At peace and ecstatic. Her chest, which had once been crowded with nervous butterflies, was now filled with a delighted energy. She inhaled, feeling her breath all the way into her lungs. A goofy smile had slowly consumed her face, but she didn’t care.

I can’t believe it, she thought, her excitement spreading to each of her four limbs. This is really happening.

This job offer was a promise that in only three months’ time she’d make enough for four years of college without another job in between. She could concentrate on her schoolwork and finally live the life she wanted. The reality of this amazing opportunity was just starting to set in.

“You said you’re from around here?” Marco asked, a question that helped to bring Sabrina out of her daze.

“Yes, I am,” Sabrina said. “Born and raised.”

“Yes, you have a thick accent,” Marco said, gesturing with his hands.

“Really?” Sabrina blushed. She'd spent most of her life trying to hide her southern accent. She'd worked hard to learn how to speak like she'd grown up on the right side of town rather than in a trailer park. 'Non regional diction', they called it.

Marco chuckled. “You do, but I like it. And don't feel bad, everyone in America has an accent to me. I'm sure you can hear my accent very clearly as well.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” Sabrina said, scanning his beautiful features and taking them in all over again. “I like your accent, too. Can I ask where you are from?”

In her peripheral vision, Sabrina saw Valetta look to Marco, awaiting his response.

“I’m from the Mediterranean,” Marco said, without returning Valetta’s glance. “From a very small island.”

With his finger and thumb he made an indication of something small.

“Welcome to America,” she said enthusiastically.

“Thank you, Sabrina from Memphis,” Marco said with his warmest smile yet.

She giggled. “You’re welcome, Marco from 'small Mediterranean island'.”

This time his laugh came from deep in his chest.

His smile is going to consume me, she thought. How am I going to survive working for this hunk for the next three months? Making ridiculous money won’t hurt, so maybe that’ll keep me focused. What a wonderful combination, though. Am I dreaming?

“Now I have some paperwork for you to sign,” Valetta said, moving to put yet another set of papers in front of Sabrina. “This is your contract. If you'd like a lawyer to look over it, you are welcome to.”

Sabrina knew she couldn't afford a lawyer. Besides, she didn't even know what kind of lawyer she would need to hire. The only lawyers she knew were the ones from TV and the car accident commercials, and somehow neither of those seemed like the kind to look over a contract.

“There are a couple of things that I would like to point out as non-negotiable,” Valetta continued before Sabrina said anything. “First, my client is to remain anonymous. This is per his wishes. You are not to attempt to obtain outside knowledge about him. Any attempts will be met with immediate dismissal and legal action.”

“You mean, I'm not allowed to G****e him or look him up on social media?” Sabrina asked slowly, making sure she understood.

“Correct.” Valetta nodded. “Also, there is another nondisclosure agreement in there. You will be a part of Marco's life, and as such, you are never to reveal personal details without his permission.”

“I never would,” Sabrina assured them both. “I don't talk about people behind their backs.”

Marco smiled and looked at Valetta like he had expected Sabrina to make such a statement. His dark eyes sparkled with an inner warmth that Sabrina couldn't help but smile back at.

“You came very highly recommended,” Marco informed her. He held out a pen for her to sign with. “It will be a pleasure working with you.”

Sabrina grinned and took the pen. It was a nice pen with a good deal of weight to it, but as she signed her name with a flourish, it felt like it weighed nothing. With the ink of the page, the door to her future opened.