Alisha's POV
The next day, I left the Golden Crest, determined to start my music career. As I arrived at the Onew music studio, my determination to get this job grew stronger. I made sure to arrive 15 minutes earlier than the scheduled interview time, eager to demonstrate my respect.
Upon entering the studio, I was greeted by the secretary, who informed me that Director Jerome Benefield was currently in a meeting and asked me to wait. Two hours passed by, and my legs began to grow numb from the prolonged sitting. Finally, the secretary signaled that I could go in for the interview, and I eagerly made my way into Director Benefield's office.
As I entered, I was met with a critical gaze from the man himself. His piercing eyes examined me from head to toe, and his sharp voice cut through the air, questioning my punctuality. "Theresa? You're late. I don't like people who have no sense of time."
Taken aback by his accusation, I furrowed my brows and replied, determined to set the record straight. "I don't think so, Mr. Benefield. The scheduled interview time was 9 o'clock, and I arrived 15 minutes early. I was informed that you were still..."
"No need to make excuses. I really despise people who constantly find excuses for themselves," Director Benefield interrupted me, dismissing my explanation with disdain. He had a knack for finding faults and seemed to relish in belittling others. Frustration simmered within me, but I remained composed, determined not to let his words shake my confidence.
Then he asked arrogantly, "So, tell me, what makes you think you're qualified to enter my studio?"
Unfazed by his condescending demeanor, I mustered my courage and began to outline my qualifications. "I have extensive experience in songwriting, as stated in my resume. I have released numerous songs, and you can find more about my work on my Twitter page. Additionally, I..."
Before I could finish my sentence, Director Benefield's face twisted with contempt. He cut me off, his voice laced with sarcasm and mockery. "Don't boast to me. You're just a small influencer. What's there to be proud of? Besides, even if you can write a couple of simple songs, so what? A real singer needs to step onto the stage and sing in front of the audience, not just write nursery rhyme on the internet."
His words stung, but I refused to let them break my spirit. I took a deep breath, gathering my resolve, and firmly responded, "Mr. Benefield, my songs are the fruits of my creative labor, not the so-called nursery rhymes that you mentioned. You cannot casually insult my work. Besides, you mentioned the singer, that's why I'm here for the interview today. I hope to have the opportunity to step on the stage and perform my own songs! I believe in my talent and my ability to captivate an audience, and I will hard to develop my skills and connect with my fans through the internet. And now, I need a chance, to showcase my talent on a larger stage."
The room fell into an eerie silence as Director Benefield glared at me, his piercing gaze searching for any signs of weakness. The weight of his scrutiny was palpable, and I could feel the intensity of his judgment bearing down on me. But I refused to let his words discourage me; I had come too far to give up now.
A sly smirk played on Director Benefield's lips, his eyes gleaming with a mix of despise and hatred. "Well, well, Theresa," he said, his voice dripping with scorn. "You are quite confident about yourself. But let me tell you, the stage is a completely different world. It's not as easy as it seems. You're nothing but a clown, what qualifications do you have to aspire to be a singer like Erma?"
When I heard the name "Erma" from Director Benefield, my fists clenched at my sides, a tempest of emotions swirling within me. Now it was clear that Director Benefield disliked me because of Erma. He might be Erma's fan or friend or whatever. He had known my conflict with Erma on the Twitter, so today, Director Benefield's true intentions were now laid bare before me. He was using this interview as a tool to exact revenge on behalf of Erma. The thought of submitting to such humiliation made my blood boil. Why did Erma always manage to find ways to infuriate me? First, she stole my husband, and now she was hell-bent on sabotaging my career.
As I locked eyes with Director Benefield, a sense of defiance welled up inside me. I couldn't let him and Erma get the satisfaction of breaking me. No matter the odds stacked against me, I refused to bow down to their demands.
A surge of courage surged through my veins as I firmly retorted, "I won't apologize to Erma. I've done nothing wrong, and I won't be a pawn in your petty game. I'm here for my talent and passion for music, not for your approval or Erma's amusement."
The tension in the room thickened, and the atmosphere crackled with confrontation. Director Benefield's face turned red with anger, clearly not used to someone standing up to him. But I stood my ground, my determination unwavering.
He narrowed his eyes at me, the silence hanging heavily between us. Then, he broke into a sinister grin, relishing the power he held over me. "Well," he said in a low, threatening tone. "I give you the last time. If you're willing to apologize to Erma on Twitter, then I'll give you a job opportunity. Otherwise, you'll regret!"
While I desperately wanted this job opportunity, I couldn't bring myself to bow down to Erma. Understanding that Director Benefield was merely trying to humiliate me, I no longer held back my sarcasm and retorted, "Looks like you and Erma are cut from the same cloth, both incompetent and delighting in suppressing others and flaunting your power. Dream on if you think I'll submit to trash like you! FUCK!"
Without another word, I turned on my heels and strode out of the interview room, refusing to let him see my trembling hands and pounding heart. I knew the consequences of my defiance might be severe, but I couldn't compromise my principles and integrity for the likes of Erma and Director Benefield.
Although I left the room, my emotions was still boiling over. Frustration and anger coursed through my veins as I tried to shake off the terrible experience.
I couldn't help but reach out to my best friend, Nova. I dialed her number immediately. "Nova, that director is an absolute fool! He didn't even bother to look at my resume or care about my work; he simply wanted to humiliate me and take it out on Erma!" I vented as I walked towards the elevator, trying to regain my composure.
"How could he do that! It's shameless! Can't you go and complain about him?" Nova suggested, her voice filled with righteous anger on my behalf.
I furrowed my brow and hesitated, waiting for the elevator. "Will it make a difference? Who knows, maybe his boss is just as awful as him; otherwise, how could he hire such garbage? His boss might be even worse! Both bastards!"
As I finished saying that, I heard a burst of intense coughing from beside me. I turned my head and was taken aback by the sight of an absolutely stunning man standing there.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he exuded an air of confidence and elegance, his suit casually draped over his right arm. He wore only a crisp white shirt and a light silver vest on top, revealing his well-defined muscles. But most stunning of all was his face, like the most perfect sculpture from ancient Greece, captivating and mesmerizing.
Then, that man said in a deep and languid voice, "Miss, if I may ask, could you let me know where I have offended you before?"