My phone jumped to life on my bedside table. It echoed loudly throughout my small New York apartment. I reached across and flicked on the brown faux lamp illumanting the room slightly. I scarmbled after the phone, trying to get at it before the caller left. I opened it and tried to seem awake.
"Hello my darling." The voiced squealed at the other end. "Darling, I got your application and you along with six other ladies have an interview today!" The voice was male but so camp he could pass for a woman if he tried. My brain registered what he was on about and who he was.
",Oh Mr Devwa, are you serious?" I replied almost apologetically for not realising who he was sooner.
"Of course darling, I do not lie. But," he screamed. "If you ever call me Mr Devwa again my pretty, you will be in very deep water. It's Lilly and don't forget it" A cackle burst from the phone.
"So my darling are you coming today or does Lilly have to make another call?" He asked in a sarcastic manner.
"Of course not Mr - I mean Lilly," I said with my heart racing.
"Good, be at the Helroy Hotel for nine fourty-five darling. Chow" He said before the phone cut off. I flipped my phone down.
"Bye," I said to myself.I sent the application off months ago to be a personal assistant for Lilly. The biggest name in fashion, he has the industry under his thumb. Working for my hero, I had wanted to work for him since I was nine years old and my mother went to that dreadful place she called the salon. I was forced to sit and wait and found myself looking at a magasine about fashion. It was full of women dressed in the most beautiful clothes and at the end a picture of him. Grinning. He was my goal from the on out. Blood was pounding in my head, it was all too good to be true, I expected to be woken by a car horn any second now . . . nothing. I sighed in relief.
I looked around my bedroom, which has been described in the brochure to have petit charm, it was just small. I was still in disbelief. My eyes met with the large clock on the wall, I still could not fathom why my mother bought me that for my 21st birthday. It was ten past eight. "What the -" I was cut off by the thought I had to be leaving in five minutes, I jumped into life and started for my wardrobe. I flung open the doors and immediatly went for the sleek red Gucci dress Uncle Andrew and Aunty David bought me for my birthday last June. I threw it onto my bed and fell to my knees to search for shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe. Aunty David's advice running through my head,
"Sweety for this buisness you can have all the qualifications you want, but if you don't have the shoes you can just catch the next cab home." He got me the application form. He was a journalist for Petit Moi, so he knew everything about the buisness. I pulled out some red three inch heels, that went perfectly with the dress. I got up made a sprint for the bathroom. time was money, quite literally in this case. It was going to be the biggest moment of my life and I sure was not going to miss it.
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Keep writing.