HIDE

EPISODE 3 (The Present.) - THE ENCOUNTER.

Today was one of the days that frightened Wilson the most. He had anticipated for so long to get this over with. It took two years, four months, two weeks, five days, three hours, fifteen minutes and ten seconds to prepare this outing. Yes, he kept count because of whom this occasion was so important to. His father had retired from the company completely, stepping aside to monitor its activities. He instructed that Wilson take over his empire, but he refused to allow the succession to pass down to his elder sister. He had his Enterprise which was doing well, and he was a powerful billionaire. Although not totally independent because his father still insisted on supervising his activities despite not having any linkage with any of them. But, he dared not to oppose or refuse his strategy. It would only end badly. So, he let the sleeping dog lie.

Gathering the courage, he made up his mind to announce the termination of his connection with the company and whatever was owned by his father. He wanted to be independent and away from his unappreciative sight. With his heart pounding in his chest, he headed for the office, where he had a huge press conference. One that might get him into trouble or out of it.

********

Brandon Daniel met his demon of a boss most unfavourably and rudely. For some reason which was tagged private, the wealthy Wilson Edward had fired his long-time secretary, and the news about seeking a replacement travelled like a wildfire. Brandon was just one of the many candidates gathered at the reception of the EW Group’s headquarters, fidgeting at the thought of securing an opportunity for the job. The tall building provided some protection from the cold November wind, but that was pretty much the only good thing about the situation. They were being ignored, the security guards simply monitoring them from afar and the receptionist kept telling them to hold on, that the interview would soon begin. A process that was supposed to be handled by the Human Resource(HR) department, was said to be Mr. Wilson, Edwards's protocol for the day. He was going to personally interview all the candidates. By the looks of the long queue of desperate people seeking the position, it would take forever for him to finish. A painfully low process.

“It’s useless,” someone in the large crowd grumbled. “They’re not going to come out and actually attend to us. We’re wasting our time. Who are we kidding that EW would give us an equal opportunity for the position? They might have already handpicked a professional secretary trained abroad and just decided to put up this show called the hiring process to fulfil all formalities.”

Others were nodding, all looking dejected.

Brandon frowned and crossed his legs, practising his presentation even more critically. He refused to give up that easily. He wouldn’t let these lazy and scared people discourage his long-term dream and zeal of becoming a worker at EW's Group. That was the reason he scrambled to the Headquarters, as soon as he heard the news irrespective of him having the thinnest opportunity of getting the job due to his lack of experience and, well, other personality default.

“Come on, guys.” Brandon stepped forward. “Come on, we just need to be more patient. I am pretty sure they will remember us as soon as it gets to our turn. This is a huge franchise, and they might be occupied with pressing things,” he said, looking at the other guys. There were about fifty of them, which was a little disheartening, but Brandon didn’t let it show on his face. His dad always said that to make people believe in something, you needed to look like you believed in it yourself, and Brandon knew it was true. “We can’t get discouraged after days of preparing for this opportunity and hours of waiting.”

To his relief, the others seemed to become uplifted enough by his words of encouragement, Brandon did the same. He instigated that they do a little protest about not being taken seriously and ignored. Although a terrible idea for people who came to seek something and was now fighting where they came to get help, they really did deserve to be listened to after hours of waiting.

Gradually, their shouts started attracting attention. Security guards approached them, demanding that they stop disrupting people’s work and either leave or wait until the company had the time to attend to them.

“We won’t leave until we are attended to!” Brandon said. “Tell whosoever that is in charge that it is unfair to make people leave other important engagements for an opportunity they weren't even given a chance to prove themselves for. I mean, who fixes an interview and doesn't hold it? What a disrespectful asshole!"

The other guys made approving loud noises, clapping him on the back. Encouraged, Brandon shouted louder, “They won’t ignore us! They can’t do this to us—”

“What’s going on here?” said a cold voice.

The hush was instant.

Brandon turned and met piercing black eyes.

He’d never seen black eyes before. Except for a scenario where the owner was possessed or compelled, just anything that had to do with the supernatural. But these were thick black and not the usual dark brown.

It took him a moment to wrench his gaze away and see the man those eyes belonged to.

Tall. Immaculate blue suit hugging the broad shoulders. Dark hair, finely shaped, heavy brows that complemented his hawk-like gaze and made it rather unsettling. You could swear that he was a model for some top agency. A sexy but scary model, Wilson was built like a Roman or Greek god. Maybe mixed-raced or purely white, but seemed mixed due to his tanned skin. Too much sun or spa? Whichever one, it achieved impressive results to make him not look too pale.

The dimple on his chin was the only thing softening his appearance, but it only served to accentuate the hard, square line of his jaw and his straight nose.

From the way the man held himself, it was obvious he was someone important. He practically reeked of power and money, but Brandon didn’t care and ignored all those attributes.

To be honest, he wasn’t well known to be the owner of EW Group. The EW Group was one of the biggest private companies in the country, and its internal structure wasn’t known to the public. They tried to keep a low profile, granting as few interviews as possible, and, it was difficult to recognize the CEO’s face, whom many assumed was Wilson Snr. And as he had made his announcement about stepping aside, everyone knew that the daughter was now in charge. What many didn't know was that EW was an entirely different franchise, operating independently on its own, under the vigilant watch of Wilson Jr.

“We want to speak to the person responsible for this interview. Or, any other important personnel connection to EW Group,” Brandon said when everyone else had failed to respond.

The black eyes seemed to bore a hole in him. “And who are ‘we’?” the man said, his expression vaguely condescending. “Why should anyone attend to irresponsible, hungry-attention-seekers?”

Brandon flushed. He looked at the other guys for support, but to his disbelief and annoyance, they were disappearing into the gathered crowd one by one. f*****g cowards.

“We were supposed to be interviewed today,” Brandon said, even though he was pretty much the only one representing them at that point. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the man. “We won’t let this company treat us like trash. If they know that they didn't have the balls or something else came up as to why the interview couldn't hold, someone reasonable should have addressed us. Rather than allowing us to waste our precious time, waiting for a ghost!”

The man’s expression was completely unmoved. “What is he talking about?” he said, still looking at Brandon.

Someone behind the man cleared his throat. “It seems he’s talking about the interview, Sir. You were scheduled to interview candidates for replacing the vacant secretary position—” in a low voice that made it difficult for others to hear what he said.

“Ah,” Wilson said, his lips twisting angrily. “I thought he meant something else when he talked about an ‘interview.’ Is that the reason you have turned yourselves into a nuisance? If you know that you couldn't wait patiently until you are attended to or, better still, rescheduled, you could have quietly exited the building rather than putting up an unanticipated show.”

Brandon’s hands clenched from pure rage. He stepped closer to the asshole and glared up at him, hating that he was two inches shorter, even though he was pretty tall himself. “Just because we don't wear designer suits and shoes doesn't mean that we should be treated like animals,” he spat out. “You are disrespectful. Arrogant and inconsiderate. I wonder what your bosses will do when they learn of your negative qualities. Who would hire such a dumb asshole for any position? I bet you don't even know where the CEO is. Or, are you just jealous that we might secure a position that you didn't get yourself? Maybe if you had dropped the attitude, they would have considered you instead of making you a security guard. Oops, you dress like one.”

Everyone around murmured and gasped out of shock and fear. This boy didn't know any better. If he did, he would have cowered and hidden in the crowd, allowing others to do the talking for them.

Wilson stared at him with a strange expression: as if he were a plague, but a mildly interesting one. “Thanks for the ranting,” he said flatly. “I’ll pass it to the CEO to punish me for my bad attitude.” He said sarcastically. “Is that all?”

Brandon flushed. “No, that isn’t all,” he bit out, stepping closer. He lowered at the man, his pulse beating so fast he could actually feel it. His anger was making it hard to put his thoughts into words, and he breathed in deeply—and ended up inhaling the asshole’s aftershave or cologne. It smelled good. Classy and masculine. Probably cost his entire life's savings and beyond.

“What was done to us today is barbaric,” he ground out at last. “Firstly, you need to apologize for your actions and secondly, the asshole that was supposed to be in charge of the interview should be fired.”

The man laughed, his white teeth flashing against his golden skin. “You hear that Barbara?” he said, clearly talking to the lady behind him, even though his eyes remained on Brandon. “The boy says I should apologize.”

The lady-Barbara—laughed uncertainly, as if she wasn’t sure what kind of reaction was expected from her but wanted to please that d**k. It was absolutely sickening.

“If you’re surrounded by suck-ups”—Brandon sneered at Barbara for a moment before glowering at Wilson—“it’s no wonder you don’t know your wrongs. They cheer you for being an ass and applause you for being brainless.”

Barbara made a hissing sound, probably angered that Brandon dared to speak in such a way to his asshole of a boss, who clearly Brandon had failed to acknowledge that he was some kind of very important person in the company.

The security guards stepped closer, frowning. “Sir, we will escort the—”

Wilson lifted his hand, and they came to a halt. “Barbara,” he said, still looking at Brandon. “Have the boy brought to my office.”

Brandon blinked, confused.

Barbara seemed equally confused. “Sir?” he said hesitantly. “What for?

“Do I have to explain myself to you?”

Barbara paled. “Of course not, Sir. It will be done, sir.” He signaled to the guards, and they moved toward Brandon just as Wilson turned and strode toward the elevator.

Brandon frowned at his back, feeling bewildered and pleased in equal measure. Was it possible the asshole was actually going to apologize and speak to the CEO or anyone in a better position to have the situation fixed?