Pieces

Huntington certainly wasn't home, but it came close. Palm trees still lined the streets and the sun shone just as bright. I guess the only difference was the fact that I knew it wasn't home.

The large house I pulled up to was a lot different from my coastal apartment. Though I adored my living space, this house seemed like a castle compared to it. I parked my car along the curb, directly behind a similar car to mine, before stepping out. I smoothed down my shirt and made sure the wind hadn't made my hair frizzy. I grabbed my portfolio before locking my car and turning towards the house.

I sighed deeply. I had been in Huntington for three weeks already, and no job could be found. All the design firms were looking for someone with more experience, despite my honorable degree from an art school. I didn't have experience, or at least not enough. Even local coffee shops didn't want my help, because I had a design degree, not a typical academic degree. It was useless.

I began the walk up the front steps towards two large, dark, wooden doors. I once again took another breath before raising my hand to knock, when the door was suddenly ripped open. I jumped, startled, before looking at the person standing there.

She was a petite brunette with long straight black hair. Her eyes were a dark brown and seemed to be black with the anger emitting through her. Tears ran down her cheeks and she looked like she could very well murder me at the moment, "Ugh!" She cried before rushing past me, unlocking her car, and driving off in a fit.

If I were a world-famous rockstar, I probably wouldn't have invited potential employees to my house. But that's just me.

A large and buff guy stepped out and shrugged at the girl who left, "Who are you?" He asked.

"I'm Violet," I smiled and held my hand out. He shook it with a firm grip and a smile.

"Dan," He introduced, "You here for the interview?" He questioned.

"Yeah, but I can come back," I stated, "It looks like you might need a break after that one," I stated and he let out a deep chuckle.

"Oh no," He shook his head, "That wasn't an applicant. That's Zack's fiancee," He laughed and my eyes widened.

"Oh, well then," I coughed awkwardly.

"Don't worry, she shouldn't be back any time soon. Let me let Zack know you're here and I'll bring you back," He walked me into the house where several chairs were lined against a wall. I could tell they didn't belong there usually, but I assumed they were put there due to the number of interviews he had given that day.

"Sure," I smiled and took a seat.

Dan disappeared for a longer amount of time than I expected. I couldn't hear anything from the other side of the large thick door he had stepped behind. It was a whole fifteen minutes before he came back out with another one of his big smiles, "You can go on back. He's expecting you," He smiled and pointed towards the door.

"Thanks," I nodded and stepped inside.

It was an office. A well-decorated office might I add. He had several guitars on display, all protected by sheets of clean glass encasing them. He had an array of old rock memorabilia and just about anything you could imagine from a horror film.

My eyes wandered to the desk and I had to stop myself from my jaw dropping. He looked like a mess. Dark bags underneath his dim green eyes. His hair hadn't been combed and he didn't attempt to impress in his wrinkled t-shirt. I put on a smile anyways, "Hello, I'm-"

"Sit," He stated, cutting me off. I frowned, ready for an interview from hell with what I assumed to be a cocky rockstar.

I did as I was told, sitting down in a leather chair as his eyes wandered a computer screen that was directed away from me. I waited patiently for him to glance over at me, then back at the screen, "Violet, right?" He asked.

"That's me," I shrugged and he nodded.

"Art school, huh?" He noted and I nodded. He read through what I was assuming my resume before turning back to me, "Which one?"

"California College of Art in San Francisco," I noted and he nodded. He obviously didn't know the school, because if he had he wouldn't have shone some sign of being impressed. It was a damn hard school to get into, and even harder to finish.

"And now you're here," He smiled sarcastically before turning his full body to me, leaving the computer screen to place his hands on the desk, "Why do you want to work for Vengeance University?" He asked.

"I'm a designer," I started, "Unfortunately, all of the larger companies I want to work for deem me as inexperienced. I need experience at some sort of clothing line to get my foot in the door. However, I'm not going to work for some surf side clothing company that I won't feel at home with. Your line seems to fit my artistic ability better."

For some reason that answer seemed to impress him more than the college I graduated from. His eyes searched mine for some sort of lie, but I had none, "You an Avenged Sevenfold fan?" He asked.

"Yes," I replied simply. I wasn't insane, that's for sure. I had been to two concerts total, but was never one to wait outside for them to show up and sign my shirt. I was perfectly content with just listening to their music.

"It didn't say that on your resume," He stated and I furrowed my eyebrows.

"No offense, Mr. Baker, but my resume shouldn't concern my musical interests," I replied and he leaned forward a bit.

"You didn't think it was useful when applying for a clothing line owned by the guitarist of Avenged Sevenfold?" He questioned.

"I wouldn't have put it on any other resume, so what makes this one any different?" I asked. He opened his mouth to speak but I cut him off, "I'm applying to be your design assistant, not a backup singer for your band," I added.

He nodded, "Fair enough," He smiled and leaned back in his chair, "Here's the job offer," He started, "I pay you full-time for your services as my assistant. What ever I ask, you do. Even if it has something to do with the band. In addition, you'll intern as a designer until I see your skills put to work. If you can prove yourself as a serious designer, then I'll add you to the team."

"That sounds reasonable," I stated.

He stood up and opened the door, which I assumed he was telling me the interview was over. I instantly assumed that he was not impressed by my work and was giving me the boot, just like all the rest.

"You'll start Monday," He said and I felt a smile spread across my face, "Every day will start at nine and end whenever we're done. I'll give you Sundays off. Don't be late," He warned.

"I won't. I promise you won't regret this, Mr. Baker," I smiled and he laughed.

"Call me Zack."