Chapter 004: Crossroad

Monday morning in New York hit him like a freight train. It was just after eight, and Midtown was already alive with suited commuters hopping over puddles from last night’s drizzle. The air carried the usual mix of exhaust, burnt coffee from street carts, and that sharp, metallic smell that always seemed to hang over the city at the start of a new week.

Shawn tightened his grip on his phone in the back of the yellow cab, the cracked vinyl seat squeaking every time the driver hit a pothole on the way toward Fifth Avenue. The tie around his neck wasn’t even his, and it felt more like a leash than part of a professional outfit, but it was what he had.

This was the second stage: the in-person interview after his resume and documents had somehow made it through the first round. It was a real corporate firm this time. Glass tower, security badges, daylight hours. If he didn’t mess this up, maybe… just maybe, he could start digging himself out of the mess he’d been drowning in.

The call connected on the third ring. Celeste’s thin voice came through. She sounded weak and breathless.

“Shawn? Baby, are you okay? I hope you’ve not been running around too much lately.”

“I’m good, Ma. You’ve got enough on your plate without stressing about me too.”

He tried to sound normal, like nothing was chewing a hole through his chest. Outside the cab window, buildings blurred past, gray on gray, until the Empire State Building sliced into view.

Celeste had been the one holding everything together since their father vanished ten years ago. One day he just didn’t come home. No call, no note, nothing. Shawn was fifteen. Mariella was nine. They waited for weeks, then months, while the police asked questions and chased leads that went nowhere. Eventually, the visits stopped. The case went quiet.

After that, it was just Celeste. She worked, paid the bills, kept food in the kitchen, and made sure her kids never felt the ground give way beneath them. She held the family together because she refused to let them fall apart.

By the time he was twenty-five, the burden had fallen on him. Celeste, battling stage three breast cancer, was thinner every time he saw her. The chemotherapy had dulled the glow from her once-bright skin.

The initial rounds and the surgery had been paid for by the fundraiser, but the bills never truly stopped. Every scan, session, and new medication meant that there was always another charge with his name on it, waiting somewhere.

They were always short. Something was always one missing payment away from falling apart. Somehow, it had become his job to keep that from happening.

He exhaled slowly. He’d managed to save a little, scraping it together from side gigs, late shifts, and fixing whatever people in the neighborhood needed fixing. It wasn’t much. It never felt like enough.

“I’ll send fifteen hundred tonight,” he said. “That’s what I’ve got in savings.”

“Shawn, no,” Celeste started. “You need that for yourself.”

“For what?” he replied quietly. “There’s nothing I need more than this.”

Mariella didn’t argue. She just went quiet on the other end, and he could almost picture her sitting beside their mother’s bed, phone pressed to her ear, trying not to cry.

“I’ve got an interview today,” he added, forcing some life back into his voice. “Corporate admin job. Real office, real pay, actual benefits. I passed the first round already. If this goes through, things start looking different for us. Just… wish me luck, Ma. Give me a month, and we won’t be scrambling like this anymore.”

There was a soft sniff on the line. Then Celeste’s voice, warm despite everything. “You’ve always taken care of us, baby. I’m proud of you. No matter what happens today.”

“I’ll do anything,” Shawn said, his voice catching just a little. “Within reason or not. I don’t care. You’re beating this, Ma. Stage three isn’t the end. You’re strong. We’ll get the rest. I promise.”

There was a small rustle on the line, like she was shifting against the pillows.

“Hold on,” she murmured. “Before you go in there.”

He heard her inhale, slow and careful, the way she did when the chemo made her chest tight.

“Lord, watch over my son today,” she said quietly. “Let the right doors open for him. Amen.”

They’d grown up in a small, churchgoing household, so prayers like that were as normal as saying goodnight.

“Amen.” Shawn swallowed.

“We love you, Shawn. Just… be careful out there. And good luck today.” Mariella’s voice came through.

“Love you both. Talk soon.”

He ended the call just as the cab rolled to a stop in front of the sleek glass tower, the address from the email glowing on his screen. He paid, stepped out into the cold, and straightened the borrowed tie at his throat, briefcase in hand.

The driver, an earpiece tucked into one ear, had caught pieces of the conversation—cancer, treatment, money. As Shawn headed toward the revolving doors, the man watched him in the rearview mirror, his expression softening.

He shook his head quietly. Another young guy carrying more than he should.

***

The interview didn’t start the way he’d hoped. They didn’t bother with small talk or the usual “tell us about yourself.” The first question was challenging.

“Why did you resign so suddenly from The Carlyle?”

Another followed before he could even finish that answer. “And why are there no references listed?”

Another voice joined in. “Your last role was in hospitality logistics. How do you handle pressure in a corporate environment?”

Shawn sat a little straighter in the chair, his hands resting on his knees so no one would see them tense.

With its muted carpet, glass walls, and the soft hum of air conditioning, the office was quiet in that rigid, businesslike way. The place had an air of luxury and control.

Mr. Hargrove, the department head, leaned forward across the table, his wire-rimmed glasses slipping slightly down his nose as he studied Shawn like he was trying to spot a lie before it even formed. Beside him, Ms. Parker from HR tapped her pen rhythmically on the glass table, like she was counting down to something.

Shawn answered carefully, picking his words like he was walking across thin ice.

“Things got… complicated. I needed something more stable. Something that could last.”

He gave them half-truths, the only kind he could afford. He talked about night shifts, difficult guests, tight deadlines, the kind of chaos he’d learned to manage without making a scene. He kept his voice steady, but sweat still gathered at his hairline. The room felt warmer as air thickened around him.

He could feel it slipping. The interview. The job. The chance to fix anything. He shouldn’t have said a word to his mom and sister. They’d sounded so hopeful on the phone. He didn’t want to imagine their faces if he walked out of here empty-handed.

Then the door opened.

A red-haired woman in a navy suit stepped in without knocking. She looked to be in her mid-forties, a few silver strands slipping loose at her temples.

She leaned toward Mr. Hargrove and spoke under her breath. Shawn strained to hear but caught nothing. Still, when Hargrove’s brows lifted and his eyes flicked toward him, he knew something had shifted. The three of them exchanged a quiet look. Ms. Parker hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod.

The air in the room loosened.

The next questions came easier. They asked about his coursework, how he kept himself organized, why he was interested in administrative work. Nothing meant to trip him up. He answered without stumbling, feeling the knot in his chest slowly ease.

A few minutes later, Ms. Parker closed her folder and offered a small, polite smile.

“Congratulations, Mr. McTavish. You’ve got the job.”

“I… sorry?” he blinked.

“Junior Administrative Assistant. Immediate start. We’re short-staffed and you fit the role. You’ll report to Senior Admin Ella Vasquez. She’ll walk you through onboarding.” Ms. Parker tapped the stack of files against the table to straighten them. “Welcome aboard.”

He blinked, still trying to process the words.

“HR will send the rest of the paperwork to your email,” she added, already gathering her things.

A minute later, the interview room emptied. Ms. Parker stepped out to take a call, and Mr. Hargrove headed down the hall with a folder under his arm. Shawn was handed a temporary access card and guided toward the admin floor on the twenty-fourth level.

When the elevator doors opened, a row of desks came into view near the windows.

A lanky redheaded guy with rolled sleeves leaned back in his chair and gave Shawn a once-over. “New hire?”

Shawn nodded. “Yeah. Just got in today.”

“Damn,” the guy said, glancing at the window beside Shawn’s desk. “They didn’t waste time giving you the good spot.”

A woman with braids and cat-eye glasses swiveled her chair around. “Seriously. Took me six months before I got near a window.”

Shawn blinked, a little embarrassed. “I didn’t ask for it. They just… put me here.”

Another woman, typing at the next desk, glanced over with a small smile. “Relax. We’re not mad. Just surprised. Usually the new people get stuck by the printers.”

The redhead grinned. “Yeah, next to the one that jams every ten minutes. That thing has ruined lives.”

A quiet ripple of laughter moved through the group.

Shawn raised his hands. “If it helps, I’ve been cleaning hotel suites at three in the morning for the past year. This already feels like a promotion.”

That earned a few nods.

“Okay, fair,” the woman with braids said. “What’s your name?”

“Shawn.”

“I’m Lila. That’s Marcus,” she said, pointing to the redhead. “And the one pretending not to listen is Priya.”

Priya lifted a hand without looking up from her screen. “Welcome to the circus.”

Marcus pushed a company mug across the desk toward Shawn. “You’ll need this. Coffee here is either life-saving or criminal. Depends on the day.”

“Thanks,” Shawn said, smiling properly now.

Lila tilted her head. “Nice tie, by the way. You look way more put together than the rest of us did on day one.”

He glanced down at the borrowed tie. “You should’ve seen me ten minutes ago. I was sweating through it in the interview.”

Marcus laughed. “Good. Means you’re normal.”

The tension in Shawn’s shoulders eased. He didn't get hostility, weird looks, but a warm welcome. They were just regular people, afterall. Shawn was convinced he'd love it here.

He sat down and took a long breath. For the first time since morning, the tight knot in his chest loosened all the way.