Disastrous (Disastrous 1) - Page 2

Oh, that was nice … I guess he’s not so bad after all.

“Professor, I truly appreciate this, but knowing that there’s a possibility that I’ll be interviewed by Mr. DeLuca is nerve-racking. How am I going to pull this off?” The thought made my stomach twist in knots. Marcus DeLuca was the youngest, richest, and most successful lawyer in Boston. This was a dream come true; it was also a foot in the door. Everyone who had been an extern for the DeLuca firm had either been hired or highly recommended for other top firms.

“Mia, you’ll be great at the interview. Yes, you’ll be a little nervous; that’s normal, but once you’re in there, you’ll fly through that interview like it’s nothing. Look, today is Tuesday; your interview is Friday. Take a break tomorrow, but stop by my office on Thursday. We can practice interview questions, so that you’re better prepared.” He got up from his chair and walked over. Stopping when he was a foot away, he lifted the palm of his hand and patted my head. I felt like a six-year-old. “You’re going to knock this interview out the park. Trust me.” He crossed his arms and smiled, this time less irritatingly. Why is he being so nice to me?

I lightly smiled. “Thank you, Professor Johnson. I have no idea how to repay you for this.” He shook his head.

“Oh Mia, it’s my pleasure, really. I have so much faith in you. I know one day you’re going to be a very successful woman.”

I hope so.


Before going home I decided to stop by a local boutique. I had to find something appropriate for this interview. I was sure sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a Harvard baseball cap wouldn’t do. My fashion sense had simmered down the last few months, especially when I began law school. I didn’t have much of a social life. Maintaining a 4.0 GPA was not going to happen while out drinking and partying every weekend. Don’t get me wrong: I do have a fashion sense; I am a girly girl, but I do love my sweats and t-shirt days. Nothing in my closet at that moment was appropriate for a professional interview, especially with the number-one firm in the city.

I was greeted by a tall, enthusiastic blonde. “Hi! Welcome to Fabulous Boutique, is there anything I can help you with?” She was very pretty. Her hair was cut in a short bob; she had bright blue eyes and red lipstick that went well with her fair complexion. She was dressed in a black, fitted dress, a nude belt, and matching pumps.

Instantly I felt embarrassed by my appearance. Lowering my head to examine my own ensemble, I wrapped my arms around the middle of my stomach in an attempt to hide, but it was no use. In defeat I dropped my arms and brought my gaze back to her. She had a huge Cameron Diaz smile which was actually contagious. I smiled too. “Yes, um, I have an interview on Friday, and I need to find something that’s … professional?”

She waved her hand in the air, “Oh yes! We have a great selection in our successful section. Come follow me. Are you a six?” Following her towards the far right of the store, I was distracted by the number of collections they had in such a small place.

“Yes, I’m a six, sometimes a five; it depends.” I followed as instructed and passed a mannequin. The plastic figure was wearing a black and beige waistline pencil skirt with a sheer nude blouse. The collar of the blouse was tied in a bow, and a matching beige purse hung from the mannequin’s arm. It was pretty cute. “Something like this?” I pointed at the mannequin.

“Oh yes, I’ll prepare some outfits for you to try on. It’s best if you purchase a few so you have plenty of options,” she said. And so I can spend money.

She skimmed through the racks as I stared at her selections, wondering how badly my thighs or hips would look in the skirts and dresses she’d chosen. I was blessed with curves and although I learned to accept them, not everything looked good on these hips.

She walked over to another section where she located a few blouses. Placing an emerald green blouse in front of me, she glanced from the thin silk fabric to my eyes. “Oh! This matches perfectly with your eyes, such beautiful eyes!” Looking down at the blouse then back at her, I smiled and gently shrugged.

“What’s great about our boutique is that a lot of these pieces go well with each other, so it’s easy to prepare a few outfits with just four or five pieces of clothing,” she chanted as she continued to rummage through the hangers.

She turned to face me with another Diaz smile; you could tell she enjoyed this kind of stuff. “Okay, we can start with these, come let me show you to the dressing room.” Reaching for my arm, she dragged me to the far back of the store.

This should be … fun.


Melissa, the boutique clerk, was very useful and showed me different ways to wear the outfits that I purchased. After an hour with her I had two dresses, four skirts, and six blouses, as well as two pair of shoes, a purse, and some jewelry to add to my collection. I was also five hundred fifty dollars poorer, but whether or not I got this position, I still needed the clothes for other interviews. Well at least that was the logic I used when I swiped my credit card.

I managed to squeeze myself and all of the bags through the narrow apartment door. As soon as I entered the living room, sleepy blue eyes popped up from behind the sofa. Jeremy looked worn out as he rubbed his lids with the back of his hand. His eyes widened at the pile of bags I was carrying. Then he flashed a gorgeous grin.

“Celebrating summer break?” He nodded at my filled hands. I dropped the bags on the hardwood surface. Shopping is exhausting! Walking around the couch, I threw myself beside him and let out a huge draining breath.

“No, I went shopping for an interview I have on Friday.” I turned to look at him; he had an amused expression.

“Interview? With whom?” I was a little hesitant, not sure if he’d be excited or upset with the news.

Biting my lip, I blurted out, “The DeLuca firm.” Nervously chuckling, I watched as his lips slightly parted, and his cheeks lifted into a stupid boyish grin.

“Mia, that’s awesome! I do too. I just received the letter today in the mail. My meeting is Friday at 9:30 in the morning. Wait, I thought they only accepted third-year students?”

In a way this didn’t surprise me. Jeremy’s father designed the DeLuca firm’s building, and his father has a way of using the advantages of knowing powerful individuals to help out his son.

I shrugged. “Professor Johnson put in a good word for me. I’m sure I won’t get the position, but it’s nice to be invited.” He placed his hand on my shoulder and gave me a reassuring smile.

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