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area to the left. “I’m Jacob. Let me know if you need anything.”
    I take my place on the deep, red couches and straighten my posture, my right leg crossing over my left. Nerves begin to build inside of me as I go over it in my head what I’m attempting to do here. What I am trying to catch. After declining some water and watching another eight minutes go, by I am finally called back by Jacob. “Ms. Quinn, follow me, please,” he requests.
    I stand up and trail behind him down the long hallway, past another desk that is empty, to an office just a door before the last one. “Mr. Morrison.” Jacob knocks on the open door. “This is Ms. Embyr Quinn. She is here for the interview.”
    I walk past Jacob, into the office, and stand before, what I hope is, my soon to be boss. “Thanks, Jake.” He smiles at his secretary for a second longer than necessary. “Ms. Quinn. Have a seat.”
    Keeping my eyes on him, I stare as he smiles again at Jacob—a look crossing between the two of them—and watches as he closes the door behind us.
    I smirk.
    He walks towards me, and his presence alone is intimidating even though he looks to be just less than six feet tall. You can tell he takes good care of himself at the gym, and visits an esthetician for his eyebrows on a regular basis. His dark hair is styled perfectly. “Good morning, Ms. Quinn,” he acknowledges me, extending his perfectly manicured hand. I take it and firmly shake. This man is more high maintenance than I am.
    “Good morning, Mr. Morrison.” I flash him a smile. “Please, call me Embyr.”
    He nods. “Okay, then. Feel free to call me Thad.”
    I smile. “Well, nice to meet you, Thad.”
    Again.
    Ten years later.
    “Please, have a seat.” He extends his hand towards another comfortable red chair. His office is as pristine looking as he is. I take a seat, adjusting my posture so my tits press further out, but that doesn’t matter to him. He’s married. No kids, of course, and is in the process of one of the biggest cases that Chicago has ever seen. Well, the one taking up most of the recent headlines.
    Thad Morrison is representing Lauren Crest. A newly divorced woman who wants sole custody of her kids from her ex-husband who decided he wanted to switch teams. Eric, her ex, and his male lover (also Erik, but spelled differently), are seeking shared custody. Thad has been very vocal about his stance that it would only confuse the couple’s sons if they were to go live half of their time with two fathers.
    I personally think that with kids involved, both parents should have equal time with them. It’s not like he is abusive or an alcoholic. From what I have read, Eric has a great job, a nice home, and offering to pay child support and alimony. But, both sides of the debate have been heated since Thad took the case on, and the newspapers got a hold of it.
    “I have to say; I’m a bit confused,” he tells me, looking down at my resume.
    I shift, crossing one leg over the other. “How so?”
    “Well, first of all, taking a receptionist job up front with Jacob would mean a major pay cut from your last job.”
    I wait for it. The moment he mentions my ex-boss Patrick’s name. I mentally prepared myself for the questions he would ask, should it come up, but he says nothing.
    I know those two haven’t spoken in some time. When Patrick would request the paper and Thad’s case was front page news, again, Patrick would make snarky comments about how Thad says one thing but contradicts himself and his stance in his personal life. How he was thankful to have lost contact with Thad a long time ago because he creeped Patrick out. Through numerous snide remarks Patrick made, it was easy to put two and two together.
    “Well, I love what I do. Some may hate answering phones and scheduling appointments, but I thrive on it. I’m an organizer.” I smile his way. “I know if I got this job that I would make ten thousand less a year, but after seeing the most