At that point, I was officially frightened. I had no idea where my office was or what I was supposed to do, but I headed down the hall, looking at the numbers on the doors. I wished I had brought some sort of housewarming present, like a loaded Starbucks card or maybe a fattened goat to sacrifice, but as it stood, all I had on me was a purse and a smile.
Finally, I spotted Room 11 and somehow found the courage to knock on Madison Montgomery’s door. It was quiet for a split second before a loud voice rang out to allow entry.
I pushed the door open slowly, peering cautiously inside.
The office was unlike any I’d ever seen. It was on one of the top floors of one of the highest skyscrapers in all of London, but the woman inside didn’t even attempt to take full advantage of that view. On the contrary, her lights were dim, and the windows were covered by what seemed like a thousand Moroccan scarves haphazardly strewn over them, creating a maroon haze. The burning incense only added to the mystique as a breathtaking woman spun around in the chair anchored behind the desk.
“Soft or crunchy?”
I froze mid-step, one stiletto hovering over the hardwood. “Excuse me?”
She leaned forward in her seat, her face suddenly illuminated by the flickering flames of the countless tealight candles on her desk, looking like some kind of theatrical villain. If she’d been wearing a spotted coat, I would have been sure she made it out of fifty unfortunate Dalmatian pups.
“Soft,” she spoke slowly, as if there was a chance I wouldn’t understand, “or crunchy?”
When I still offered no reply, she threw up her arms in frustration and leaned back in her chair. She toyed with the armrests for a second before bolting forward once again. “I’ve ordered vegetarian chow mein from your humble establishment nine weeks in a row, yet it is still a toss-up whether the noodles will come soft or crunchy.” Her eyes gleamed dangerously in the barely-there light. “Now, I have tried to be patient, to give your restaurant the benefit of the doubt, but do you even know what my last fortune cookie said?”
I shook my head blankly, wondering if I was in a dream.
“Patience is a virtue. It actually said that!” She leaned back in disgust, her sharpened nails playing with the edge of her desk.
It could have been worse, I thought, wondering why she was so upset. It could have said, “That wasn’t chicken.”
“After I promptly lit that stupid little slip of paper on fire and watched it burn to ash, I discovered two important things. Would you like to hear them?”
This time I nodded, wondering if the receptionist’s warning and the accountant’s panic had something to them. Interesting? She calls this interesting?
“First, I discovered that the fire alarms in this building are top notch,” she snarled dangerously. “Then, I discovered that unless I speak up with the beautiful yet terrifying voice God gave me, I will never have my damn noodles the way I want them!”
With that, she slammed one of her desk drawers shut, causing the tealights to wobble and tremble precariously. “Now, I will ask you once more. Please make this third time’s a charm and not three strikes, you’re out! Are the noodles soft or crunchy?”
Since I had no idea about the condition of her noodles, it seemed as good a time as any to inform her of who I really was. “Madison Montgomery, I’m Delilah Jones, your new junior partner...and I’m afraid I can’t tell you about your noodles.”
Madison blinked, looked off to the side, then blinked again. “Delilah Jones?” she repeated slowly, looking me up and down. Her lips thinned into a hard line as she leaned speculatively back in her chair. “Certainly it is not necessary to make any standard Old Testament jokes about your name, is it? You’ve probably heard them all.”
I shook my head firmly, glad to have it out of the way. “Yes, every one.”
There was a brief pause as she released her stranglehold on her mealtime struggles and tried to fit me somewhere in her current reality. “You’re the girl from New York, the one Kaplan recommended? I read your entire file.”
“Yes, that would be me.”
“And you’re supposed to be my new partner?”
I couldn’t help but notice the blatant doubt smeared all over her voice, not to mention the heavy emphasis on certain key pronouns. “That’s right, your new partner.”
“You look good on paper, but you look different in person.”
It seemed to take a second for the news to sink in. She studied me closely from behind the tealights, her eyes narrowing as she sank farther back into the shadows. “You are quite pretty,” she murmured, almost to herself. “I’m used to being the pretty one.”
My lips pursed to hide a smile, but I said nothing, knowing it was best to let someone with such a high-strung personality work things out in her own time.
“You’re also quite...mousy and small, not much of a presence for a bargaining table.”
Truthfully, I was no smaller than her. Even though it wasn’t easy to get a good look at her in the dim light, I could tell she was far more petite than her ego, yet I knew it was best to hold my tongue.
“Obviously, you have some assets and talents to offer, or you wouldn’t have landed the job, but tell me... What are your weaknesses?” she asked suddenly. “What makes you nervous? What are you afraid of?”
I lifted my chin and spoke in the steadiest voice I could muster, “Sharks, ski lifts, people who overuse alliteration, and...you.” This time, I swept my eyes over her. “You don’t strike me as someone who’s afraid of anything at all.”