Siren

Chapter One

AH STILETTOS. There is nothing else in this world that can make a girl feel more like a woman. No single piece of clothing that can make an intern feel more powerful than a pair with a bold colour. The thin tip that makes the back of our legs look toned no matter how long it's been since we've gone for a jog. And honestly, There is nothing more satisfying than taking them off at the end of an accomplished day.

And instead of reviewing my resume and talking points, I'm already off track. Thinking about my shoes.

I adjust the collar of my black blazer, ignoring the way it holds in all of my nervous heat as I stand patiently in the elevator, watching the digital red number increase until it stops.

The eleventh floor. Home to Siren Magazine, one of the hottest women's magazines in England. Tammy Davis, founder and editor in chief, has written for countless tabloids, magazines and award winning papers since her years at Oxford before turning to Sex, Love and Fashion for London's It Girl.

The magazine's motto is embellished into the front of the white reception desk. The past three covers of the magazine are blown up and hung on the wall, adding a pop of colour to the plain white and grey interior design. There is a girl wearing large, blood red frames and sipping from a purple mug while she stares at the large screen in front of her.

"Can I help you?" She catches me staring and I fumble over my words for half a second. I'm so bloody nervous. Four years of hard work, inside and outside of the classroom, and it all boils down to the next twenty minutes and I'm already blubbering like an idiot.

Finally, I get my wits in order: "Noah Walker." Nailed it.

"Oh, yes. Let me just ring Ms. Davis." She smiles warmly at me. I smile back, thankful that she doesn't need more information, and adjust the strap of the red Michael Kors bag my mum bought as my graduation present.

"Would you like some water or tea?" The girl's brown eyes are rather large behind those glasses and I find myself wondering if they'd be so big if she took the frames off.

"No thank you." I answer a second before things would have gotten awkward.

I glance around and notice a small seating area. The receptionist is on the phone now and so I walk over, eyeing the view of London from the floor to ceiling windows at the end of the room. In the distance Big Ben and The London Eye can be seen, especially on an abnormally clear fall afternoon like this one.

"Beautiful weather in London can only mean good things, my love." My mum had said as she wished me luck this morning over tea. I shake my head, she's been so proud of me since I received my acceptance letter to Oxford. When I would call her at 3 AM, crying that I was going to fail an exam, all she would do is tell me to breathe. I had made it that far, so why let one little test out me to tears? However, the day I walked across that stage and was handed my diploma all she could do was cry.

"Noah Walker?" I turn to see the receptionist now in front of the desk. I stand. "Follow me."

I stand straight, adjust the hem of my blazer once more, and follow her down a long hallway. With each step, the thin black heel of my shoes pulse confidence into my body. I have succeeded thus far, who am I to allow my nerves to stand in my way now?

"She's waiting for you, good luck!" The receptionist says, pointing to an all glass door. Tammy Davis Editor in Chief is screen printed onto the glass, seen only at the right angle. Within the glass encased office, a woman is seated behind a larger than life and completely disorganized desk. I take one last nervous breath and channel all of my inner confidence as I open the door and step into her office.

She looks up at me over the rim of her two-toned blue glasses. She gives me a once over, head-to-toe before smiling and standing, pressing the wrinkles our of her pleated baby blue skirt.

"Noah Walker, pleasure to meet you. Professor Collins says wonderful things about you, please sit." She reaches over the desk for my hand and then gestures at the two magenta arm chairs in front of her desk as she reclaims her own chair.

Professor Collins, my favorite teacher thus far in my higher education and the reason I was scheduled for this interview. I make a mental note to write her after the interview, she will want to know how things went.

"So I have gone over your resume and have read through both pieces you submitted to us. On paper you are the perfect Siren Woman and I know exactly where I want to put you, however, I want to know why you want to work for me, particularly."

She clasps her hands in front of her, lying them gently on the glass top desk. I should be intimidated. I should sit back and think before each and every stubborn word leaves my lips, but as I take in the view from her office, of both London in the background and the office behind me, all I can think is that I want to be her.

"Ms. Davis," I clear my throat. "You're the perfect role model and mentor. I can't think of anyone else I would want to learn from."

She smiles and looks down at the pile of papers before her, no doubt my resume, article, and short story.

"You make me blush, love." She says as she takes off her rectangular glasses. "You're a clever girl. I have one last question: how far are you willing to go for a story?"

"I don't think there's a limit." I say with a shrug of my shoulders. I think over the countless articles I head read from Siren writers, one about using a vibrator in public and another about trying do-it-yourself hair cutting techniques and I know I would do it all and try my best not to blush.

Tammy smiles at me and shakes her head with an unshared joke.

"You will go far, darling. Let's get some paperwork filled out."