More Than She Bargained For

Chapter Two: Intrigue And An Interview

My furniture arrived the next day. The movers said that they'd blown a tire on the interstate and I decided to believe them. After setting all of my boxes and furniture in the living room of my apartment, they left, probably to go break an antique loveseat. The good news? I only had to pay three-fourths of what they'd usually charge. (So sue me. I'm cheap.)

I gave the couch a shove and moved it a grand total of two centimeters. "Figures," I muttered. "When I need Viv's sniveling boyfriends hanging around, they aren't."

I needed help and knew exactly where to find it.

XXX

The penthouse was dark and quiet when I arrived. "Cole?" I called.

"Phoebe?"

A door opened and Cole appeared. He had shaved and was wearing a black suit.

I raised my eyebrows. "You look different."

"I wonder how you'd look as a pile of ash."

"Don't." I put my hands on my hips. "I need help."

"Sorry, I don't do community service."

"Do you have anything better to do? It'll take three minutes."

"If I do, will you leave me alone?"

"Possibly."

That seemed to win him over, because Cole followed me into the elevator.

"So, are energy balls your only trick, or do you have other features?" I asked.

"You don't want to know."

"Try me," I said. "Can you become invisible?"

"And you'd have me confused with Harry Potter."

"How about creating objects? Could you make an alligator appear?"

"Do you want me to?"

"Not really. Can you…what's the word for it? Can you teleport?"

Cole disappeared and, a second later, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Whirling around, I came face-to-face with him. "Nice. How about turning people into frogs?"

"If necessary."

The elevator stopped and I motioned for Cole to follow me. I opened the door to Apartment 6D. "Here you go."

"Okay, so what's the big emergency?"

"I need help moving my furniture.'

Cole rolled his eyes. He moved his hand from left to right and, before my eyes, my furniture was arranged and my boxes were unpacked.

"Now that's impressive," I said. "Thanks."

"Don't think I did this for gratitude," Cole replied.

And, before I could say anything else, he…well, "faded out" would be the correct term, I guess.

I sat down at my computer desk and connected to the internet. Research about Cole Turner was screaming to be done.

XXX

An hour later, I was satisfied. If the information I got was right, Cole was about one hundred and seventeen years old. His father had been murdered in the 1880s, and his mother…there was no date of death for her either, so she must have been (be?) a demon as well.

Cole was working for a law firm now—Jackman, Carter, & Kline. Interestingly enough, there was a personal assistant job open.

I went to get dressed for my first job interview in San Francisco.

XXX

"Impressive," appraised Mr. Carter, the well-dressed older man that was reading my resume. "A journalism major. That's certainly a plus for this job."

"Thank you." I shifted in my seat and hoped my brown tweed suit didn't look like the Target discount it was. (For some reason, I didn't think Mr. Carter's black silk jacket cost eighteen dollars on the clearance rack.)

"I have to say, I think you have all the qualifications for the job," Mr. Carter said. "I'd like to have Mr. Turner meat with you."

"Mr. Turner?" I repeated. "That's who I'd be assisting?"

"Yes. His last assistant quit rather suddenly a few weeks ago and we haven't been able to dig up a replacement yet." He lowered his voice. "I must warn you, Mr. Turner's a bit…odd."

"Oh?"

"But he's a good attorney, and that's what matters." Mr. Carter hit the button on his desk. "Rose, buzz Turner and tell him that I'm sending in a prospective personal assistant."

"Right away."

Mr. Carter stood up and shook my head. "Nice meeting you, Miss Arbess. Mr. Turner's office is down the hall and to the left."

"Thanks." I stood up and left the office. Being someone's secretary wasn't exactly my idea of a high-profile city job, but it was a start. Besides, I'd worked at the Modesto Sun as a receptionist when I was home from college for the past three years, so I had experience.

When I reached Cole's door, I straightened my back, took a confident breath, and knocked.

"Come in," he called.

I obeyed.

"What're you doing here?" Cole asked, sounding a bit more irritated than I'd like a future boss to sound. "I've got an assistant to interview, and God knows I need one." He looked down at the piles of papers on his desk.

"A little desperate, are we?"

"I'd even hire you," said Cole. "Provided that you could file papers, type, and make good coffee."

"I accept!" I said triumphantly, sitting down in one of the brown leather chairs in front of his desk.

"Huh?" Cole looked up from a stack of papers. "You're…"

"Your new assistant," I finished.

"I didn't even hire you yet."

"No, but I'm an expert at filing, can probably type better than you can, and my coffee could win awards."

Cole sighed, looking defeated. "Your desk is outside the door."

"Yay." I crossed my legs. "Do you want my resume?"

"It's a little late for that." Cole handed me a stack of file folders. "Deal with these."

My glamorous job as a secretary had begun.

A/N: If I see even ONE more green line underneath my sentences, I will scream.

but still, the satisfaction of moving on to a new page makes up for Microsoft Word's potential annoyingness.

All right, I'm shutting up and posting now.