Phoebe's Performance

The Other Girl

Author Note: 29/06/2017 

Hey Guys, thanks so much for reading. I have heavily rewritten this novel and the work is at the state where I'm about to send it off to beta readers. 

I thought you Wattpadders might like a sneak peak at this draft. Please be aware - it is a draft so I won't have it up forever. I'll take it down within a few weeks because I want to improve the work with all the comments people give me. I'll use your feedback to do this - so feel free to comment. 

Thanks for reading.

xxx

Chapter One

"We've found someone else."

"Found someone else?"

"Yes. We've found someone else."

"But? What? Who?" I stop speaking, my jaw clamps shut as her words begin to sink in. My hands come to my now pulsating temples and I stare at the woman in front of me with her pale, almost translucent skin, and earnest face.

"I was notified of the interview only 24 hours ago, how could the position already be filled?"

This woman, whoever she is, she's talking rapidly. My thoughts whir at a dizzying speed. I wish she'd speak slowly and explain what she's on about. Although her mouth's moving, I can't comprehend anything she's said.

"I don't understand." I finally say.

"I've selected another girl."

"I signed confidentiality papers at the recruiter's office this morning. He scanned them. There was such an insistence on privacy that the recruiter wouldn't tell me who I was supposed to be meeting this morning. But I still came here straight afterwards. The interview was scheduled for ten and I'm even five minutes early...."

"She just left a few minutes ago."

"You made the final decision only a few minutes ago?" The shock is evident by my brittle tone. "That 'other girl' must be really good."

"I'm sorry." The woman has her hand on the door indicating that within seconds I'll come face-to-face with a large dragonfly door knocker. I don't want to be one of those people shoving a foot in the doorway and holding my arms out aggressively demanding answers. I don't particularly want any type of confrontation but for my sanity I need to express how I feel.

"I travelled forty minutes and paid a few pounds in bus fare to get here," I say and bite down at my lip. I hate myself for mentioning money, but I detest even copper coins slipping through my fingers. When you're unemployed, a few pounds is enough cash to cover a travel journey to say, another interview, or the journey back home, or travel across town to a friends place. Or at least a few pounds provides that freedom, to buy practical necessities like toilet paper so my sister and I are not left using the cardboard roll to save a few pennies.

"We could reimburse you." She scans my outfit which is a sequined affair, a white fitted top with a matching sparkly skirt. I'd always expected the music business to be fashionable, edgy even. I might have slightly gotten this wrong because this woman appears quite posh, quite regal-looking, wearing a conservative black dress with a double string of pearls around her neck. I can tell that bus fare would be insignificant to her. Not that she'd ever catch the bus.

I blow out a breath, glancing away from this woman and her long grey wavy hair the colour of smoke. She'd be around mid-fifties and considering she obviously has the cash, why hasn't she tried highlights, they would lift years off her face. But I can't think about that now. I've got bigger issues especially with my sister.