Hello again, I'm proud to announce the New Hire is now part of an Anthology book called The Lipstick Letters. Of course, I have a sample for you. Enjoy.

Story Number Two

Santa Monica, California 1968

Chapter 1

Mary Jane Winters

My Edsel, and I are bookin' down Ocean Avenue in Santa Monica with me bobbing my head to Summer Time Blues by Blue Cheer. It's my favorite song, but I turn it off when my radio keeps fading out. I've waited two weeks to get a call back for this job interview. You'd think I'd make it on time, but just my luck, the car wouldn't start this morning. Thank God, my brother taught me how to fix it before I left San Francisco and I managed to get it going again in no time. I make it without a moment to spare. Now, I just need to find parking. I circle the block once and luck is with me because a space is opening up right in front. It's tight and I'm not good at parallel parking, but I think I can fit my car in. I wait impatiently for the woman to pull out, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, checking the review mirror to make sure the pink lipstick I put on earlier is still okay. I try to ignore the cars behind me having to merge left to go around. I can't even look at the person sitting in the car that I've just aligned mine with, but I can sure feel his eyes on me. I wonder why he's checking me out so hard. Maybe he's bored waiting for whoever it is he's driving around. I wish I would have thought of that. Not that I can afford a driver, or cab fare all the way from Torrance, but trying to park is really bumming me out right now.

"About time," I say, when the space is free. Pulling forward, I whip backwards into the space too fast. I try to stop, but my gas pedal sticks, slamming my back end right into the parked car behind me.

Oh man! Oh man! Oh man! I hop out to check the damage and it's bad… it's the worst. My whole back end is smashed in. Oh, man, what a bad scene. I can't believe it. It was just a tap.

I look at the other car. And man, it's an expensive car. A very brand new expensive looking car. I do my best not to pass out at what I know it must cost to fix it. But it's just a little dent. Maybe it won't cost that much. The driver who I was too shy to look at gets out and wow, he is so gorgeous. He could be the fifth member of the Beatles, if not for the blond hair.

"Are you all right," he says, with a mix of concern and anger. He puts his hands on his hips, then crosses them in front of his chest before putting them back on his hips again, looking from me to our joined cars. He's trying not to freak out at the dent in his.

"I'm so sorry about your car. I'll pay to fix it."

"How?" He looks at me and then at my beat-up Edsel, pulling his black jacket back from his waist with his hands before shoving them in his pockets. He raises himself up on the balls of his feet before resting his heels back down again. "I hope you have vehicle insurance." I hang my head in shame, looking down at his black shoes that are spit-shined to perfection. "You have got to be pulling my leg," he says. He's totally ticked off and no longer trying to hide it.

"But I can pay for the damage. I have a job interview in that building." I point to the Heath's Corporate office building behind us. "But, I'm going to be late if I don't hurry in."

"You have an interview with the hotel today," he says. "As what?"

"As a marketing intern. I know it doesn't pay much, but I'm sure we can work something out. If I don't go in, though, I won't make it on time and I really want to make a good impression. I'll give you all of my information when I come back out. You have my word on it."

I shuffle my feet to calm my nerves. Time is ticking and traffic is getting backed up from everyone having to go around my front bumper that's still sticking out in the street. My anxiety is high and seeing a mean looking man rush out of the building like it's on fire isn't helping. The driver followers my stare.

"Well, this is just great," he says, seeing the man run towards us, checking the scene with a worried expression.

"Is that your boss? Don't worry, I'll talk to him," I say. Judging by the look on his face, he wants to tell me to take a hike, but his bossman interrupts us.

"Mr— " his boss starts, but I jump in to keep him from getting in trouble.

"No, this was all my fault. I know it looks like your driver hit me, but I was trying to park and my gas pedal got stuck. I couldn't stop my car. I'm sure he is an excellent driver. He has been nothing but professional with me. You are very lucky to have him." The boss looks at his driver who just shakes his head. "I'm really sorry, but I have to get inside," I say checking my wristwatch for the time. "I have an interview for… Oh man, it's not with you is it?" I ask the driver's boss.

"No, ma'am." He reassures me.

Thank God. How horrible would that have been running into the boss's car?

Michael Mason

This girl has no idea who I am. How in God's creation can you interview for a company of this size and not bother to do research? I need to find out who called this one in for the position. She's out of her tree. And whoever thought she was hirable is out on their can. She can't even keep still. She is obviously on something. These hippy lowlifes are looking for work now? How terrific.

She just ruined my Maserati. Looking at that junk heap she calls a car, there is no way she can afford to fix it. Not that I would trust her. And what does she mean her gas pedal got stuck? She's going to kill somebody, if not herself. Then to add insult to injury, she thinks, Kyle, my driver, is my boss. Granted, I haven't introduced myself, but damn, a little research would have saved her from what I'm sure is going to be an embarrassment if she will stop yapping long enough so that we may correct her. Kyle looks at me for direction and I shake my head for him to leave her be. I'm in the mood to have a little fun with this.

"Excuse me, Miss..." I wait for her to give me her name.

"Winters," she says. "Mary Jane Winters."

I notice that she barely glances up when she talks. I have yet to look her in the eye.

"Miss Winters, we wouldn't want you to be late for your interview. I happen to know who you're going to be speaking with, so why don't I walk you to your potential boss's office." No way I'm hiring this train wreck.

"That's so kind of you. Thank you so much," she says, following my lead. I walk her in passed the front desk, to the elevators. No one's called me by my name, but I'm sure Miss Winters wouldn't pick up on it if they did. I push the button and we wait for the doors to open.

"So, Miss Winters, what made you want to work for Heaths," I ask, making small talk to ease my boredom. I really should just send her on her way. I have too much work waiting for me today.

"Well, it's kind of a silly reason to want to work for a company such as this, but it's because of its charity work," she says.

I stand corrected. She has done some research. Interesting how that's what she's discovered. She had to dig deep. It's not like we advertise that at all. I'm actually impressed. The elevator rings and I place my hand on the small of her back to guide her in.

"Fuck," I say under my breath after receiving one hell of a shock from her.

"Are you alright." She clearly heard me. I turn to apologize and holy hell she's finally still enough for me to look at her. Her eyes. How didn't I notice them before. They are the purest and the lightest of blue. They are mesmerizing.

"I'm fine. Just a little shock. I apologize for my foul language. I was taught to behave better in front of a lady."

"No harm done," she says, looking down at her feet, shying away from my stare. She's demure when she's not prancing around. I like this. It's a change from the girls around here tossing their bras and throwing up peace signs. Yes, I like this a lot.

She takes her delicate hand and tucks a loose strand of her brown hair behind the light pink lobe of her ear. Her fingers gently brush what looks like the softest skin of her cheek. Why didn't I notice all of this before? Good LORD, she is beautiful. I have to shift a little to adjust my pants. What's taking this elevator so damn long to get us to the top floor? It finally pings and the doors open. I lead her out, nodding a good morning to my secretary, Betty, as Miss Winters and I head to my office.

"Have a seat, Miss Winters." I point to one of the chairs that sits facing my desk.

"Thank you... oh, I don't even know your name."

"Michael Mason. I am the Chairman of the board," I say, sitting down behind my desk.

"You are the chairman?" Her whole body drops in defeat as I nod, affirming her question. "I see. I'm terribly sorry I've wasted your time." She gets up to leave, obviously feeling very embarrassed.

"Where are you going? I thought you wanted an interview." What am I doing? I should let her leave.

"I did. I do, but I'm sure I've lost all chances of getting the job now, seeing as how I just plowed into the company chairman with my car," she says.

"Normally that would be the case, wouldn't it?" I chuckle, finally seeing some humor in this little fuck-up.

Betty enters the office with my morning coffee and newspaper.

"Did you schedule Miss. Winters here to interview today?"

"Yes, Sir," she says. "She's on your schedule for this morning. She was supposed to interview for the internship, but since you ordered me to fire Donna, I was hoping to replace her with Miss Winters."

"No, that's impossible. Just keep Donna. I don't want Miss Winters in her position."

"I'm afraid the internship was already given to someone else."

"That's fine. I'm sure if she qualifies, we can find another position in the company for her." She sits unfazed, while we talk about her like she's not even in the room.

"Oh, her resume is very impressive," Betty says. It's not like her to be so enthusiastic about potential employees. "It should be on top of the pile there on your desk, along with the drug test and background check." I grab the file and eagerly look it over. I go straight for the drug test. It's negative, an automatic improvement.

"References," I ask Betty as I leaf through the paperwork.

"Yes, sir, and you should take note of one reference in particular." Her answer is confident enough to get my attention, so I flip through to the reference questionnaire reading it aloud. "Her work ethic is exemplary. She is a consummate professional. The rapport she has developed with my benefactors has become a crucial part in their willingness to render financial aid. I call upon her assistance yearly and she never fails to make my charity events successful. Norma Mason."

Fucking hell, she knows my mother. She helps with her charities? Why have I never seen this girl before?

I turn back and quickly scan her resume. This woman is a paragon of goodness. All of her time is spent on charity work. She has dabbled in finance, fund raising, advertisement, entertainment, public relations… the list goes on. This has got to be some kind of joke. This mousy little shy thing has done all of this? But what sticks out are the organizations she's given her time to: Feed the Hungry World Wide, Grandmother's House Foundation, and Disaster Corps. I have to find out more about her.

"Thank you, Betty." I dismiss her. "Tell me, Miss Winters, you mentioned wanting to work for Heath because of our charity work. It's obvious that you researched the company, yet you didn't know who I was. Why is that?"

"Well, I did indeed research your company, but found very inadequate information, so that's why I didn't know who you were. However, I have worked with a number of charities and I've found that this company is a key benefactor to all of them, giving, not only monetary support, but any essential resources that we request at any given time. Heath Hotel always goes above and beyond whatever is asked. Take Hurricane Hilda for example. Disaster Corps called upon its benefactors to give support. Heath not only gave a substantial amount of money, but also helped with the overwhelming demands we were faced with when it came to the shipments of food, water, and medical supplies."

Mousy and shy my ass.

"You seem to give a great deal of yourself to charity work? Are these causes close to your heart," I ask. Giving this much of herself can only come from firsthand knowledge of what it's like to be in need.

"Yes, very close to my heart." She gives nothing away and it only serves to make me want to know more.

"Well, I see no reason why it can't continue on here. You can internship with Heath's Help for the Hungry also known as Triple H. Among other things, we fund agricultural and corps programs."

"I would love to be involved with that Sir. Thank you very much," she says, flashing me a brilliant smile that gets my pulse racing. The word, Sir, coming from her lips puts me off balance momentarily and I feel the need to put distance between us. I buzz for Betty to come back in.

"Walk her down to human resources and have them find her a place in Triple H." I bark the order at Betty.

"We still haven't discussed the accident from earlier." Miss Winters says.

"You're working here now. It's not like I won't ever see you again." I remind her.

I make a phone call to HR, telling them how much to pay her. I also have them issue her a company car since that death trap she was in should be on its way to the Boneyard by now. I tell them to hold off on firing Donna's incompetent ass and to make sure Miss Winters receives the speech on keeping all things she hears around the office confidential. Satisfied they'll carry out my instructions, I look over her paperwork. As complete as the information for screening candidates is, I know there is only one way I'm going to get down to what I really want to know concerning Mary Jane Winters. Why I care I don't know. Chalk it up to simple curiosity, but I pick up my phone to make the call anyway. She should be just coming in from her daily errands right about now.

"Mom," I say when she answers. "How about we have lunch today?"

I hope this brings back memories and for first-time readers, I hope you enjoyed the preview. And as always, thank you for the support.