I never thought my life would be like this; trapped in a dark room and scared for my life.
A blindfold was wrapped around my head, covering my eyes, making me completely blind and on high alert.
My breathing was ragged and I could smell the mold tha...
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I was sitting on my couch, watching one of my favorite shows when I heard my phone ringing. I reached over to the coffee table where my phone was laying, and grabbed it, looking at the caller ID.
Unknown.
I frowned, confused, but answered nonetheless. "Hello?" I asked.
"Hi, is this Skylar James?" A female voice sounded through the phone.
I nodded even though they couldn't see me, "Yes, this is she."
"You recently filled out an application as an assistant to Taylor Smalls. We reviewed your resumè, and would like you to come in for an interview tomorrow morning at 9."
I smiled, this was my dream job. Well, not being an assistant, but working with Taylor Smalls. He was the most famous publisher in all New York. I always wanted to be an author and this was my chance to get on his good side and get something of mine published for real.
"That works! I will definitely be there!" I tried to keep it professional but, I had shrieked it into the phone. I cleared my throat and said a hasty, embarrassed goodbye then hung up.
That was humiliating.
The next morning, I started getting ready for the interview. I scoured my closet for the most professional thing I had, but only found my moms old clothes.
I grabbed the hanger to the white shirt with a large coffee stain on it. My mom, April, had told me this is the shirt she was wearing when she first ran into my father, Derek James.
She told me how they ran right into each other and fell in love. Though I know the first part is true, the second part always seemed off to me. Especially when they were both laughing when they told me that.
The coffee stain had faded after all these years but was still noticeable unless you had a button up over it. It could be my good luck charm today.
I took it off the hanger and pulled it on, along with a gray pencil skirt that hugged every curve, and a gray blazer. I looked like my mom.
I nodded in approval at my reflection before leaving the house.
When I got to the address the woman on the phone gave me, I thought she had given me the wrong address.
The building I pulled up to, looked abandoned and run down. No way was I going in there.
I looked at the address I had written down. It was definitely the right address, but what was a rich, famous guy doing here?
My mother had told me her kidnapping story. Bad people were after her and someone had kidnapped her to keep her safe. She never knew the man's identity, but was grateful that he saved her life so many times.
