Destiny or Disaster?

The sun rises above the horizon, and its beams stretch forward like tentacles searching for a target. That target sleeps soundly as the alarm rings out and voices can be heard outside the bedroom door. Leona's face scrunches when she feels the tentacles touch, and the light brings swirling yellow and red blobs behind her eyelids. A hand slaps the snooze button, and the sheets fall to the ground. Cold hits her skin. 

The door bursts open, and one of the voices calls to her. "Leona girl, wake up already. I thought you had that interview today." It wasn't a question. Leona turns to stare at the numbers on the clock, which tell her she has twenty minutes to get there. "Why the hell didn't you wake me sooner, Kerry?" She jumps out of the bed and leaps into action, grabbing the pinstripe suit laid out the night before and running into the bathroom. She was quick with her makeup. "Yeah, Daren and I debated. Have you tried waking you?"  

Kerry and Daren are coupled, so they often debate, but most of the time they irritate Leona by being soppy with each other when they have to reconcile. They flat-share, so Leona puts up with it, despite her hate for sentimental relationships.

"You're not the easiest girl to get along with in the mornings," Kerry continues, helping Leona find her shoes, with no luck. "I don't need that attitude this morning, or this delay. Hey, can I borrow your heels?" They both rush to the other bedroom and riffle through Kerry's collection for the red stilettos. 

Leona snatches Daren's toast out of his hand as she goes forth out of the apartment, down the stairs and onto the street. She tries to flag down a taxi, but the roaring rumble of cars speed past. Leona is left with no choice but to make the mad dash to the bus stop, hoping she arrives first. 

“Oh for the love of god!” She screams, frightening the little old lady sitting on the bench, as her bus pulls away. Strands of brown hair spring out of her hairband, curling at the ends. “Guess I'm legging it.” The old lady shuffles up the bench to inch away from the crazed Leona.

The stilettos swing wildly in her hands as she barefoots it up the road and chases time itself. She is sure to be a mess when she gets there, but all she thinks about is how to avoid the growing number of people crowding the path. “Sorry. Move out the way,” she yells, causing them to scoot towards the road or buildings. Looking back with a thankful nod, her body collides with another. Flashes of free-falling liquid makes her grab the man she bumps into, turning them both around. The coffee splashes onto his crisp white shirt, staining it, and the cup rolls across the ground. 

“My bad, sorry, but I can't stop.” In truth she hesitates, relishing the muscled arms she has a hold of. A kind face smiles back at her, appreciating the escaped curls of her hair. A static charge surges through the pair of them. Both locked in each other's deep, dark eyes.

“No worries. It looks like you're on a mission” he says.

“Yeah, I kind of am.”

“Then you might want to let go, and save those fine shoes.” Leona looks to the ground where the red heels tumble off the pavement, a truck about to make them road-kill.

“Damn!” She hurls herself after them and snatches them up as a gust of air brushes her nose. The handsome young man grabs at her suit jacket, stopping her forward momentum. 

“Close one, thanks” 

“No worries.” He repeats. He glances at his watch, for he has somewhere to be as well.

“I hope to see you again. Maybe next time you'll not be in such a hurry?”

That was all the reminder Leona needed to say a farewell and dash off to her destination. 

Arriving at the wall of windows that reflect her image, she reaches for the metal framed doors of the skyscraper. A logo etched into the glass with ‘Quayside Laboratories’ written in white underneath. Leona attempts to smooth her hair and straighten her clothes before entering. Slipping on the shoes she strides over to the reception desk. 

“I'm here for the half past eight interview.” Leona straightens her back and tightens her buttocks. 

“Fill out the forms and someone will be with you momentarily” the receptionist drones, pointing to the waiting area with a half dozen other candidates. A sigh escapes Leona's lips. 

She takes a free pen, plonks herself on the hard uncomfortable seat, and starts to scribble in her details. The clock on the wall ticks as the seconds pass.

“Leona Nervin?” A woman calls out, searching the group for the person who responds.

“Yes, that's me.” Leona answers, scuttling to get up without dropping the papers. “Follow me.” The lady rotates then walks off. Leona hurries to keep up. 

They enter an elevator and ride it to the top floor, the motion unsettling her stomach further. The door opens with a ping and they step out.

“Papers”

“Oh, erm… I've not quite finished” Leona owns up, receiving an eye twitch and brow raise. “Fine. Go through. Bring them to me after Mr Macklit sees you.”

Leona steps through a large black door that opens up into a spacious office, filled with designer furniture. There is no one inside. 

Pacing the perimeter she googles at the finery. Paintings adorn the walls and artefacts of unknown origin are encased in display units. The tic, tic of pendulum balls smashing each other echo across the room from the desk. 

A shadow flashes past the window. A bird no doubt. Leona goes over to watch the people far below weave in and out of buildings like a colony of insects, small and insignificant. That's what the man in this office must think all the time, Leona concludes. 

She doesn't hear the footsteps behind her as they approach. “See anything you like?” Mr Macklit says mere inches from her ear. She swivels sharply, almost throwing herself through the window. The man grabs at her suit and smiles. Papers fly everywhere.

“Woh, you frighhh…” she begins, then recognises the face.

“You! What are you doing here?” She yanks herself from his grasp, her cheeks flushing crimson. 

“I had hoped to see you again but I didn't expect it to be so soon. I must say, it's good to see the shoes are safe.” He chuckles to himself, looking down at her feet then brings his eyes up scanning the rest of her. The crackling of electricity makes its way up his arms, and to other desirable places. Leona's cheeks warm to uncomfortable levels and she bashfully bends to gather the scattered forms. More curls escape their binding, and fall over her ears.

“Leave that, come sit. Tell me why you're here.” 

“I'm here for the job vacancy. I'm being interviewed by the CEO of the company. A Mr Macklit.” She wonders if the old codger is about to enter the office or if this young man will have to conduct the interview on his behalf.

The man doesn't fail to notice her glance towards the door before perching on the edge of the chair. 

“Expecting someone else?” He questions with a smirk. “Oh, it's just… I was told he'd be taking the interviews himself today.” 

She watches as he makes himself at home, leaning against the executive desk, crossing his ankles and folding his arms which reveals the coffee stained shirt under the pressed jacket. 

“Oh…You're Mr Macklit aren't you?”

“I kind of am, yes. Call me Kyle.”