The Interview

“I hate this place.” Bill muttered.

“RE-lax,” Trica said. “I know it’s not your cup of tea but it’s just an interview. Who knows if you’ll get the job,” In truth, calling it an interview was a stretch of magnificent proportions, the likelihood of him landing the job was so low that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. Bill didn’t even know what he would do if he got the job, perhaps something with gin or vodka. Four years ago, he graduated with a degree in liberal arts from Clemson and a head full of dreams about writing the next Inception, accepting awards and having wild sex with whatever B-list actress his producers cast to star in his movies. But a head full of dreams is just that, and the last four years had not been kind to him. Unable to hold on to a job for more than a month, he turned to the only person from his graduating class who didn’t have a big head from the minimal success they had. Trica, being just as lonely as he was, welcomed him with open arms and introduced him to her boss, who then in turn scheduled an interview, for the tenth of September. The tenth eventually rolled around and here he was, sitting in a rented suit, not even within a hemisphere of his cup of tea.

“I probably should just go, I bet I’m wasting her time,” Bill said, making to get up.

“I told you relax,” Trica said, holding out her arm to stop Bill from leaving. “They’ll love you and her time isn’t worth that much anyways,”

“I don’t know what I’ll do here,” said Bill anxiously, he started to bounce his leg on the floor in anticipation.

“Don’t worry, I still don’t know what it is I do, and I’ve been here half a year,” replied Trica.

“People like you” Bill said, the bouncing becoming more severe. “You’re easy to talk to. I’m not”

“Oh will you stop being so hard on yourself?” Trica scolded. “And will you stop bouncing that damn leg? It’s driving me crazy.”

“Sorry,”

“Uhhhh, Bill Anhouwzer?” A pretty, young blonde leaned out of the doorway in front of Bill and Trica. “I’m ready to see you,”

“Good luck,” Trica smiled and squeezed Bill’s hands. Bill stood up and walked slowly to the door, amazed he hadn’t ran away in fright. His legs were shaking so much that he spotted a flicker of worry skirt across his interviewer’s face. He reached the door and stuck out his hand.

“I’m Bill Anhouwzer. But I guess you already know that,” he said, silently cursing his lack of social skills.

But the woman grasped his and warmly and said “Name’s Amanda Pauler. Nice to meet you.” Bill glanced briefly back at Trica, who grinned at him, he grinned back and crossed the threshold. Amanda closed the door closed with a soft, ominous click.

AN: It's the start to something, I don't really know what though. If it should be another short story or my first crack at something longer. Let me know what you think, if you feel inclined, whether or not it has the legs to stand up for more than 20 pages.