Jordan squared her shoulder as the elevator dinged. Grabbing her crutches, she stepped out of it with a ridiculous amount of confidence. The moment she had stepped into the majestic building, it was like she was all eyes. The attention was overwhelming. The atmosphere did not change on the particular floor neither. Receptionist, clerks, executives, breakfast-cart boy; she felt like Erin Brockovich. "Nice people," she muttered, while hopping her way to a crisp-looking secretary. "Can't imagine the looks they would be giving if my neck is broken."
Smile, Jordan, smile. Don't put your Darlie out of business, girl! "Excuse me. I'm Jordan Woods and I'm here for an interview with Mr. Johnson." Jordan gave herself a mental pat on the shoulder. It seemed like the public speaking workshop that she had attended had a vital use after all. Smiling awkwardly, the blond woman picked up the phone, her eyes darted between Jordan's Darlie grin and her bandaged ankle. "In a minute," she replied distractedly.
Jordan breathed deeply and stared at the gold-plated namepiece on the teak door. C.T. Johnson. The name screams black suit and crisp tie. Jordan looked down on her own midnight blue pant suit. It was simple, yet classy and hot, or so said Kara. Kara had eagerly helped her picked it out during their emergency visit to the mall and she had almost fainted upon seeing the pricetag. But Kara had had always had her way. So there went a low cut jacket over a white tank top and flare cut pants. Kara's review: totally cute. Her review: waste of good McDonald's money.
"This way, Miss Woods."
She didn't need introduction to the giant company 'The Firm'. She was well-aware that the Backstreet Boys, her most favorite thing after ice cream, signed their contracts with the very company. They were singers, they should have some deals going on with the company. The thing that lost her was she, Jordan Woods, would have anything to do with the record company. "Miss Woods?"
Jordan snapped her head up. A middle-aged man sat perched behind a sleek glass table. He was wearing a black suit, alright. Jordan smiled. "Yes, I am."
Mr. Johnson flashed her a smile. Somehow it seemed like a smile of relief. "I am Cole Johnson. And these are the Backstreet Boys."
Jordan nodded her head, shaking Mr. Johnson's hand briefly. "The Backstreet Boys," she repeated absentmindedly. Ice breaking session, she could handle that. The Backstreet Boys. Something clicked in her head. "The what?!" Her eyes searched frantically for a familiar face. If it did to boost her self esteem, he seemed to recognize her too. "You!"