The Intern Novelas e Histórias

What kind of intern drove different kinds of luxury cars to work? “I can get back myself.” “I want to come.” I pointed to the car and shook my head. “You don't like the car?” He turned to his assistant standing there. “Get a new car...” His eyes trailed back to me. “What kind of car do you...” I pressed a finger over his mouth and shook my head. “I am an intern here. I am supposed to be poor and not come into work looking like I have millions.” “But you have...” “Nobody should know.”

The main door had a digital keypad, but the lock had already been opened with a piece of tape covering the latch—a classic sign of someone working late who didn't want to keep swiping their card. We pushed the door open and went straight for the intern. The guy was a third year medical student, according to the badge pinned to his desk, sitting in a spinning chair with three large monitors glowing in front of his face. He was alone at that time in the office, the rest of the desks empty and dark.

... "Casper, got a form here that needs your signature." That familiar voice of the intern rang in my ears, and I snapped my eyes open. I froze for a second, then realized that I had been reborn. The sight of Oscar Kaufman's phony grin made rage boil up inside me. My face fell, and I refused flatly, "I'm not signing it." In my previous life, while I was buried under a mountain of work, he had shoved this form at me just like this. I had scribbled my name without looking closely.

--- The eighth floor. I know this floor. I know the carpet, the lighting, the specific arrangement of desks and cubicles and the coffee machine in the corner that never works right. I interned here for six months. Cherry Scoop. The entertainment news agency where I learned how to write, how to investigate, how to hold a microphone in someone's face without blinking. Joe White is at his desk when I walk in. He looks up. His coffee cup stops halfway to his mouth. "Allie?" "Hey, Joe."

He stretched out his hand to me, and I took it, exhaling sharply. “You know this is my job as an intern, right?” I looked up at him after taking a sip of my coffee. “Of course not,” he protested, and I raised my gaze to him. “It's my job to serve my lady.” I shook my head. This man is irredeemable. I walked away from him, staring out the window, trying to sound nonchalant despite the flutter in my chest. “So, what do I have on my schedule today?” he asked, walking up to me.

Since our marriage, it had become something more—our secret playground, a space reserved for small adventures, a place we returned to again and again when the ordinary grew stale. And now, someone else was in it. Through the narrow crack of the half-open door, I saw Brian, the new intern. He jumped when he heard me push open the door, quickly letting go and standing upright. His voice was nervous, eager to explain. "Mr. Laurent, please don't misunderstand. I saw Ms. Kinsey making a few mistakes in her steps… I couldn't help correcting her." He paused a while, then added, "If you're uncomfortable with it, I won't do it again."

Whatever this was, he didn’t want to be a part of it. “Who hired you?” He asked instead. “I wasn’t ‘hired’, sir,” the intern said, stifling a laugh as if Xavier had just said something ridiculous. “I’m an intern. We don’t get hired. I’m here to learn because I’m studying business administration in school.” This couldn’t be real. However, the boy’s apparent cluelessness made Xavier chuckle. “I apologize,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. “Who invited you here?” “I sent an application and I was accepted,” he said with pride in his voice.

I instantly saw the pain in her eyes. Shit. Ignoring the knot in my stomach, I rose to my feet and took my jacket from the rack. “You will behave while I’m out. You will answer calls and take note of everything you receive from the other line.” “Got it. I was an intern at Cornelius Marks & Co. Finance.” “Good.” That made sense. I walked to the door, but I had to stop to look at her one more time before I headed out. I bit my lip to fight back the smile. Fuck.

The young man said, wearing a wide smile and demonstrating with his hands. “Oh, really?” she asked, surprised. She wasn't actually supposed. She thought her fame had earn her the spot already. She concealed her thought with a shy smile and took not her gaze from the handsome young man as he spoke. “I know right? I’m surprised too. You are the only applicant he seems to be interested in.” He went on, leading her to the elevator. “Hmm.” She sounded, following after him. “Oh,” He quickly punched the floor number in the elevator once they were inside and dusted his palm on his trouser. With an outstretched arm, he said, “I’m Nelson. I’m an intern; I work directly for the chairman.”

I stopped in front of the first desk to my right, where a pale looking guy was busy typing something. "You!" I said. "What's your name?" "Rod, Miss Alice," he said, gulping. He had a mop of dirty blond hair on top of his small forehead and a thick pair of glasses was covering his eyes. "I am the new intern." "Well, Rod, today is your lucky day. You are my secretary for a day," I said and his big eyes widened even more. I started walking back to my office but when I didn't hear any footsteps behind me, a frown appeared on my forehead. "What are you waiting for? I don't have all day."