The Billion Dollar Contract: Proposals by Cynthia Dane Page B

smiled. “Sure. But I’m just interviewing to be a secretary.”
    Juan finally turned down his music and touched her arm through the car window. “My ma’s been a secretary all my life. Ain’t no shame.” He passed a wad of dollar bills into her hand and then took off down the street again, waving at her. A police officer at the nearest intersection focused his binoculars on Jasmine. A man handing her money while she was dressed nicely? God knew what he was thinking. Whore on patrol. You’re next, officer.
    The next bus arrived on time, and Jasmine was more than happy to ride three stops down the avenue. Amazing to see the world change so quickly. Just two intersections away from her inner-city living sprouted the CBD, rising higher than any other in that part of the great U. S. of A. Glass walls, immaculate topiaries, fancy cars riding through… if Jasmine didn’t know any better, she would say that some fairy godmother had boarded that bus at the last stop. She looked to the woman sitting next to her, a large lady wearing a bank uniform and texting. She’ll do.
    Jackson-Cole was the biggest building of them all. Jasmine could see it from a mile away outside the bus window, more glamorous than anything Hollywood could come up with. I guess dreams come true there. She would find out soon enough.
    For as peppy as she felt on that chilly winter morning, a quick shiver of anxiety shot down Jasmine’s spine the moment she disembarked the bus on the corner of the sidewalk. She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and stared at the monster building before her. She also stared at the men and women coming in and out of it, all of them dressed in business finery. Men in designer suits. Women with their designer bags. I wish I had a designer bag. In truth Jasmine thought they looked silly, but it was a status thing. She wanted to have the status of owning such an item more than anything else. So it can get stolen. There went her smile.
    And there went her confidence the moment she walked into the atrium where she was to meet her interviewer.
    Lines of men and women wearing lower-end suits and dresses filled the atrium, each of them poring over résumés and searching for something frantically on their phones. Pens whipped through the air over papers. Security guards attempted to keep them orderly. More than one person looked at the others amassing in the room and started sobbing.
    “What in the world is going on?” Jasmine asked the guard standing at his post.
    He didn’t bother to look at her. “Job interviews. Guessing you want a turn, huh? Stand over there.” He pointed to the end of the line far, far away from any office where interviews could be taking place. Jasmine thanked him but it did not inspire any confidence as she slinked over and asked the girl in front of her what she was applying for. As it so happened, it was the same exact position Jasmine wanted.
    They were all there to interview for one freakin’ job.
    “This sucks. ” More people lined up behind Jasmine. How many were there? Five dozen? More? How many of these people had more experience than Jasmine? A better degree? I’ve been assisting the administrators of many fine offices these past two years, thank you! Of course none of those had anything to do with working for such a prestigious company. Didn’t matter if Jasmine was looking to be a desk clerk for the damned mailroom in the basement.
    As the minutes ticked closer to nine, more businesspeople wandered into the building and took the elevators behind Jasmine up to their offices. She didn’t want to be distracted by them, but standing so far in the back of the line it couldn’t be helped. Old men in suits. Young women in dresses. Older women in better suits and dresses. Some of them were by themselves, but others had mini-entourages taking calls and talking about what was on the docket for the day.
    One such man looked considerably younger than the rest. At first he walked in alone,