[Sweetlust]

“Twelve years…?” I stared at Mayne, thinking I had heard wrong. His whole demeanor changed in that instant that passed between us. I’d been waiting to hear his decision and now it seemed the conversation had taken on a Kafkaesque quality as he continued to speak. His voice took on an amusing quality I found disturbing to say the least.

This was no longer about an interview—that much was clear. My eyes widened in confusion, then recognition and finally fear. I could feel my heart pounding as the face of this man in front of me began to materialize, but twelve years younger. I could feel the color draining from my face, as his smile grew wider.

“You…!” I whispered. Oh…god…it was him--him! I’d never considered the possibility of ever seeing Trent again. Of course, back then I didn’t care. I was on the rise, willing to do anything to get to the top. He was collateral damage. He was an obstacle to be removed.

I’d been too preoccupied with making a good impression on ‘Mr. Mayne’, until I’d missed the glaringly obvious clues. He had changed, in my opinion. There was hardness there, and an air of ruthlessness. He leaned forward as if to emphasize this moment and heighten my fear. I had nowhere to go, trapped between his desk and the chair that cradled my trembling form.

“But how…? When did you…?” I could barely form the questions battering my brain. Taking a deep breath, my hands now gripping the arms of the chair, I tried to get myself under control. He seemed quite happy to give me the time to allow his revelation to sink in, making a joking remark of coming back ‘to the scene of the crime.’

I exhaled a shaking breath. “Trent…I mean Anderson…no—Trent. Exactly who are you?” the interview was no longer the priority at this moment. Why had he bought IDS? What was he doing here? What was going to happen to me?

“I—I suppose I should…go.” I awkwardly started to rise. I had no idea what to do. Surely he wasn’t going to keep me on. He’d only allowed the interview in order to gloat no doubt. Trent Court, the nobody was now Anderson Mayne. The tables had turned and I didn’t like the feeling. “I should pack my things. I’m sorry to waste your time.” I babbled on, my eyes downcast. My thoughts and words making little sense. I stood up and somehow made my way to the door. I felt so numb.

I suppose I was in some kind of shock. No murderer ever expects his victim to ‘rise from the grave’. It seems mine had. Any other situation would have demanded I fight. This was so totally unexpected, I couldn’t process it. My career was over and I was sure he would want me out the door as quickly as possible now that he’d had his opportunity to return triumphant. I was certain I was of no value to him.

My hand reached for the handle and stopped. I felt an icy chill race down my spine. The next words were not easy for me, considering the circumstances. However, my personal mantra popped into my head. Do what you need to, in order to get what you need. I needed this job. He knew it. At least it would give me time to look for something else. I turned back to face him. Swallowing hard I spoke.

“Look—I need this job. You and I both know it. I’ll do anything…answer phones, make coffee, run copies. I don’t expect you to consider me for your assistant…um…given the circumstances. I know we didn’t part friends. I’m sorry about that, I liked you well enough. It was just business. In your position, I’m sure you understand that. So…” I shrugged helplessly, “I’ll gladly sit out in one of the cubicles. Please, I’ll take any job here.” I clasped my hands in front of me without thinking as I tried to sound more certain than I felt.