BLACK DIAMOND

30 days of writing challenge by Chiharu Tanaka

01 Beginning

Naminé Castell was at a loss of words. An internship program? Did such things even exist for a specialized work like hers? Her dainty fingers clutched the letter she had just received from the mail. Still - if someone needed her expertise, why shouldn't she try it out? She would gain experience, and better yet, a paying job - and that would solve her piling credit card bills and outstanding rent.

So that was how she ended up in front of the door of apartment number 531 at the prestigious Harrington Avenue Apartments located at the upper east side of New York. Her face was flushed from the cold winter outside as she walked through the lobby to the reception counter with a black toolbox of sorts in her hand. Her ordinary clothes - a simple white trench-coat which she left at the counter, a blue turtleneck sweater, skinny jeans and a pair of well-worn boots - seemed out of place in this posh building.

She took in a deep breath - there was no turning back now - and pressed the doorbell. The weight of the box - which contained all the tools she needed for this internship - felt reassuring in her hands. Moments later, a voice came through the intercom - she knew whoever was inside could see her fidgety and nervous like this. Slapping herself mentally, she knew she should've picked out better clothes for an interview!

But in a profession such as hers, do outward appearances even matter? She sighed. The irony.

"Yes?"

The voice was male. Crap, she did not expect this - a surge of adrenaline pumped through her veins like lightning as her already thundering heartbeat quickened its pace. What the hell would a man want with her services? The weirdos these days, she mused.

"M...My name is Naminé Castell," she spoke to the little white box. "I'm...here for the internship interview."

Silence, and a beeping sound later, she heard the door unlock. "Come in, Miss Castell," said the male voice.

Naminé hesitated. What are the odds that her interview was at an apartment? And there was at least one man inside. Her blood ran cold - she had read of horrible news of what happened to women like her who did a few mistakes and ended up raped and murdered. Her knuckles were already white from gripping the toolbox's handle too tightly.

Sensing her unease, a light chuckle came from the speaker. "Okay, this must look really weird," he said. "Just stay there, Miss Castell - I'll come outside and we can talk at the cafe downstairs."

She felt reassured by this - but she was not out of the water just yet. If this was a legitimate interview, then she had to pass it before scoring her ticket to monthly paychecks. The carpet suddenly looked very interesting, until she saw a pair of shoes and her head shot up.

She must have sucked in her breath a little too loudly, because a smirk spread across the man's face. He was about a foot taller than her, with a handsome face comparable to that of models and layered silver hair falling over his eyes and shoulders. He was well-built and was proud of it - dressed in a fitting long-sleeved black button-up shirt and a pair of straight-cut jeans. She couldn't help but notice that the shirt did well to show off his toned biceps and chest.

"I'm glad you could make it," he said with a smile, extending a hand. "Name's Riku Arisato."

She had to take a second to pull herself together, before straightening her posture and accepting his hand. She felt the grip of his fingers against her own - firm, exuding with confidence. "The...the pleasure is mine, Mr. Arisato."

"No need for formalities. Just call me Riku. Can I call you Naminé?"

"O...Okay."

"Naminé...that's a pretty name," he said, ushering her to move towards the elevator. Her eyes narrowed slightly.

Mother always warned me about sweet talking men...

"Are you working for a modelling agency?" asked Naminé, out of curiosity. If this man was her future boss, she had to know something about him. Other than the fact that he appeared a tad bit metrosexual and that he smelled strongly of Hugo Boss perfume.

"No, not exactly."

"Then why...?"

"There, now, no need to be so anxious. Let's talk it over lunch; my treat," he said as the elevator arrived with the chime of a bell. Another chuckle escaped his lips. "You must've been so nervous that you added too much blush."

The colour of her cheeks darkened. No, you're mistaken!

Naminé Castell, age 22, was a semi-professional make-up artist and costume designer who graduated top of her class in one of the best art schools in New York. She did not apply too much blush - and her brain was already churning out a million theories of why this man needed her ability to apply make up as the elevator doors closed.

TO BE CONTINUED

A/n: I hope you enjoyed it so far. I'll be doing a daily update (as daily as I can because posting here is a bit more tough than posting on tumblr). If you wanna catch the updates on tumblr instead, follow me at chiharufanfics dot tumblr dot com.