Sure. Why not.
There’s no doubt about it, this whole thing is totally fucking insane. I’d have to be a crazy person to move ahead with all of this. The very prospect of meeting with this guy has me further outside my comfort zone than I’ve ever been before in my life. But I’m starting to wonder if maybe, just maybe...that’s not such a bad thing?
As terrified as I am of change, uncertainty, and success, I’ve never been more excited about anything than the chance to work with Declan Tiberi. If I don’t at least meet with him, and hear more about what he’s up to, I know that I’ll regret it for the rest of my life. Not to mention the fact that Kelly will totally kick my ass if I don’t reply right this minute. I know that it’s risky, but where has living by the rule book gotten me? I’m lonely, and bored, and missing out on my own life.
“What’s the worst that could happen?” I ask myself, opening a new message to reply to this Tiberi character.
Dear Mr. Tiberi,
Thank you for responding to my inquiry. I’m delighted to hear that you’re interested in working with me. I’d love to meet with you sometime this week, tomorrow is particularly good for me. Please let me know what you’d like me to have prepared. I’m living just off the UC Berkeley campus, so if you’d like to meet me at the Starbucks on Oxford Street, that would be great. Looking forward to meeting with you.
All the best,
Kassenia
I push “send” before I can second guess myself. Of course, the instant my message disappears into the ether, I realize my stupidity. I slap my palm against my forehead—I can’t believe I’ve already botched this! I’ve just asked this man to meet me in Berkeley, CA tomorrow. He lives in Las Vegas. I can’t demand a trip like that from him. He’ll probably blow me off for being so inconsiderate. Face burning, I hurry to send off another quick message.
Hi Mr. Tiberi,
I just realized that my suggested date/time for our interview is probably not doable for you, given the distance between our locations. I’d be more than happy to have a video conference, if you’d rather not travel out to California. Let me know what you think.
Kassenia
I send off my revision and pull myself up, making a beeline to the shower to wash away my annoyance with myself. But before I’ve gone three steps, my computer chirps again. Another new email? No way it’s from Declan...But wouldn’t you know it, he’s already written back.
Kassenia,
I’ll meet you tomorrow at 3pm. Bring your business plan.
Declan
I stare, flummoxed, at the screen. I’m officially bewildered, and hopelessly intrigued, by this person. His background, his manner, his mystery all have me disoriented and deeply curious. One thing is for sure—I’ve never met another person like Declan Tiberi in my life.
And our interview is tomorrow.
I fly into action, setting aside my studies and freelance work entirely. Energized and excited, I spruce up my business plan for CrowdedNest.com. I organize my ideas, evidence, data, and budget proposition. I need to present an excellent investment opportunity for this man if I’m going to score this internship...and the $250,000 that comes along with it. My head swims, thinking about that kind of money. Tomorrow afternoon has to go perfectly.
But as confident as I am about putting together a kickass business plan, I know that I’m going to need a lot of backup in other areas of my presentation. One thing is certain—I need my best friend’s help on this one.
I only have to text Kelly a few words to get her to my door:
Meeting the mystery man tomorrow. Makeover?
In a heartbeat, she’s practically busting down my door, begging for details. Kelly’s already excitable by nature, so this particular piece of news has her foaming at the mouth.
“Tell me everything,” she gushes, grabbing my hands.
“Well, the guy’s name is Declan Tiberi,” I tell her.
“Whoa,” she breathes, “How exotic.”
“Eccentric is more like it,” I reply, “The guy is a crazy rich venture capitalist, a professional boxer, and an ex-soldier.”
“Loaded, strong, and brave,” she says, “Please don’t tell me all of that is wasted in some awful, lumpy body.”
“Not exactly,” I say, pulling up a picture of Declan on my computer.
“Holy Christ,” she hisses, drooling at my screen, “That’s him?!”
“That’s him,” I say.
“This is the guy who you could potentially be spending the summer with. In Vegas.”
“So it would seem.”
“Kassie...You better give one hell of an interview tomorrow.”
“Tell me something I don’t know!” I laugh, “That’s why I need your help.”
“Of course,” she says, “Where do we start?”
“How about with what the hell I’m going to wear?”
“Well, show me what you were thinking.”
I throw on my standard interview outfit: a pair of black slacks, a striped button-up, hair in a low ponytail, minimal makeup. When Kelly catches a glimpse of me, she seriously looks like she’s about to throw up.
“What?” I ask anxiously.
“What do you mean, ‘what’?” she shoots back, “What the hell are you wearing?”
“It’s called business casual,” I tell her.
“It’s called boner-killer-deluxe,” she laughs, shaking her head. “It’s a damn good thing you drafted me for this.”
She spends the next hour digging through my wardrobe, dressing me up in outfit after outfit, searching for the perfect look. I put myself entirely in her hands. I’ve always had more of a simple, girl-next-door kind of style, but Kelly’s an expert about this dressing up stuff. Finally, we manage to find a look that we can both agree upon.
I give myself a once-over in the floor length mirror. A pitch black pencil skirt hugs my slender thighs and firm ass, and a low-cut cobalt blouse brings out the blue in my eyes. My hair is swept back into the perfect Mad Men-style up-do, and I balance on a pair of tall black stilettos. The finishing touch? A pair of vintage stockings with thin black seams running up the backs of my legs. Sexy but subtle.
“You’re a miracle worker,” I say to Kelly, turning this way and that in front of the mirror.
“Sure am,” she smiles, “But it helps to have a gorgeous girl like you to style. This Declan guy is a goner. There’s no way you’re not going to get this gig.”