The Gift Read Free

interview. She'd gone over his experience, or rather lack of it, and stepped around the whole school topic without getting too personal over the why's and how's of him "probably" not going back. And through it all Doren had sat on the office chair, turning left and then right, left and then right on the swivel, hands locked behind his head, gaze on the ceiling tiles. He hadn't said another word until August got up to leave. Then Doren had dropped his hands and spun to the door where Diana had been seeing August out. "So, can I call you Auggie?"
    He might be good-looking. He might be sexy. But Doren was obviously a bit of an egomaniac if he thought he could make someone feel like an ass for what was, August had by then decided, a silly little indiscretion. August lifted his chin and set his jaw. "Not if you expect me to answer."
    Doren had grinned at the reply and suddenly all the self-important-ism melted away and he was back to the sweet, gorgeous thing August thought he was when he'd first walked in. Doren had winked in that cheesy, hateful, yet oh-so-sexy way that cocky guys always seemed to manage so effortlessly. "Okay, August. Talk to you soon then."
    So that had to be a good sign, right? He hadn't been totally dismissed? He'd been glad to be the first one called in. The wait had been long enough as it was and the day was already half over. At least the apartment would be empty. His roommate, Guy, didn't start class until eleven a.m. so he'd be already gone. At the same time it was kind of a letdown. It would have been nice to gloat about meeting Doren. That was going to get him a few days of jealous questions even if he didn't get the job.
    He took the stairs two at a time as he laughed at the thought. Even if? Why was he teasing himself with the idea? He wasn't going to get the job. He didn't have a snowball's chance in hell of matching wits with any of the rock zombies from the lobby. Or maybe—he nodded at the grease-smeared door of level six, pushing it open with his sleeve-covered fist—maybe what he should be thinking was that he just didn't have the capability to lower himself to their level.
    The door to the apartment was no cleaner than the door of the stairwell and was wrestled open in the same slippery, cloth-sheathed manner, while the phone from within pleated sadly. He should probably run for it; no doubt Guy had forgotten his notes or his textbook or his goddamn student I.D. and needed August to immediately drop everything and rush said item over. At August's own expense and trouble, of course. Instead, he let the phone die off to voicemail, clucking his tongue at the unexpected click instead of the usual frazzled chirps and squawks of his roommate's harassed voice. Then his cell phone started.
    It only took a quick look at the display to know the number his heart had already memorized and August's chest skipped painfully. "Relax," he mumbled. "They're probably calling everybody just to say thanks for your time, but ..." He took a deep breath and pressed the talk key.
    "Hello? Can I … help … I mean, August speaking."
    Diana's smooth voice bubbled out of the receiver. "August, hi! I hope I didn't catch you at a bad time. Are you driving? I tried you at home but I couldn't get you, so I hope you don't mind me calling you on your cell?"
    "No, no. I'm good." August shook his head at himself. He couldn't help it. His hands were shaking so hard it was hard to hold the phone. His heart was tap-dancing.
    "Oh, excellent!"
    Excellent? Excellent that I'm good, he thought, or excellent that I'm available? He closed his eyes and struggled with his reasoning. He wanted this. So was he just hearing the smile in Diana's voice? Or was it really there?
    "So, I was talking to Doren and I have another question for you, if you don't mind."
    August's voice came out too high and timid. "Please, anything. Go ahead."
    "Would you be available for travel this Sunday?"
    The line was quiet but August could hear Diana smiling