Chapter 59
There was a second interview, also with Alecia, and it included a tour of the facility, at which time Bryce met Eckhart for the first time. Surprisingly, the president of Eckhart Incorporated wasn’t that much older than himself, but tall and distinguished-looking, with an aura of distain that made Bryce feel shabby by comparison. At one point, for some reason, Alecia slipped away, leaving the two men alone together, and Mr. Eckhart’s polite questions turned personal.
“So, married?” he’d asked, raising a dark eyebrow already beginning to silver.
Bryce shook his head nervously before he remembered his manners. “No, sir. You might say I’m not the marrying type.”
Both eyebrows shot up at that. Eckhart’s white skin was so pale, it seemed almost translucent in places, and he was so ruggedly handsome, Bryce couldn’t look at him too long without staring. So he concentrated on the faint veins running just under that alabaster flesh, and only snuck peeks at those deep, stormy eyes. The overall impression he had of the man was blue: blue-tinged skin, dark blue eyes, a lighter blue suit with thin blue stripes, and a blue-black tie like a bruise tied up under his chin. Always was my favorite color,Bryce thought, shifting on one foot away from Eckhart in an attempt to hide a sudden erection. Could he really work for this man? He’d be hard all day long.
Like that’s a bad thing.
The faintest hint of a smile teased across Eckhart’s face. “Anyone serious, then? I ask only because this position will require someone who can devote himself entirely to the company. To me.”
“No one,” Bryce admitted. Then, because he was afraid that might sound desperate or sad, he added, “Don’t worry, sir. I would be a hundred percent dedicated to my work. I’m looking for a career I can retire from, not just a paycheck for a few years like some people. I doubt you’ll find anyone who can be more devoted than me.”
As Alecia came up to them again, Eckhart nodded and excused himself. Bryce wasn’t sure he’d made much of an impression on the man—how many other candidates had had similar conversations with Eckhart? How many were being considered for the same position? He didn’t know.
When the tour was over, and Alecia walked him to the front door of the office, he dared to ask, “So what happens next?”
“Next Mr. Eckhart interviews you himself.” She flashed him a bright smile that lit up her face. Combined with the dyed black hair she wore in a long Betty Page flip and the heavy green and blue eye makeup that was more appropriate for a nightclub than an office, the smile conspired to make her look impossibly young. “I’ll call you with the time after he’s had a chance to check his calendar.”
Bryce gave a nervous laugh. “I bet he hates clearing his scheduling for everyone he has to talk with about the position.”
“Oh no,” she assured him. “At this point, you’re the only one left standing. Mr. Eckhart didn’t bother with any of the others.”
Bryce’s next laugh felt much more relaxed. “So you’re telling me I’ve basically got the job?”
“You have to meet with him one on one first,” she said. “Then we’ll see.”
She called while he was on his way home and set a meeting with Mr. Eckhart for one o’clock the next afternoon. Bryce arrived early, as he had for the other two interviews, and waited in the empty reception area until Eckhart paged Alecia and asked her to send Bryce back. He checked his watch—one on the dot. Mr. Eckhart wasn’t the type to let someone sit around waiting on him. Bryce liked that.
The boss’s office was so completely unlike everything else Bryce had seen while touring the firm that, at first, he was taken aback. No white walls or linoleum tiles like in the cubicle farm on the other side of Mr. Eckhart’s door, no. His office had plush carpeting that seemed to swallow the bottoms of Bryce’s shoes, and dark wooden panels on the walls that made the large space seem intimate and cozy somehow. An executive desk was tucked in one corner almost as an afterthought; the center of the room was dominated by a pair of sleek, black, leather sofas tastefully arranged around a glass coffee table. Instead of bookcases, cabinets lined the walls; the doors rolled back into the units in a modern way of economizing the space, and several were opened to show shelves housing a few knickknacks obviously chosen for appearances—artsy books, lead crystal awards used as bookends, miniature globes. Bryce suspected behind one of the closed cabinets had to be an executive dry bar, hidden from view. He wondered what might be behind the others.