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Pride Cometh

Before A Fall

Millicent Trigar

Corey was unimpressed. His interview was supposed to start 15

minutes ago. If they didn’t call him in soon, he would be tardy for his

much anticipated lunch date. He had arranged to meet a bewitching

little blonde with flirtatious eyes at 1pm, and had reserved a table at a

lavish restaurant around the corner. It was now 12:45 and he was

going to have to leave if they kept him waiting much longer.

He jiggled his custom tailored Italian leather dress shoe on the

oak coffee table in front of him. The incessant tapping caused the

prim receptionist across the waiting room to squint her beady eyes

at him over her spectacles in a chastising manner. He waved a

dismissive hand at her, smirked, and kept jiggling. What was her

problem? She obviously had no idea who he was!

Corey was in the waiting room of his uncle’s notorious finance

company. He was there under protest. His parents had decided that

it was time for him to earn his own income and experience the

working world. It was a bit of a bore really, but he had agreed because

his father had promised him the use of their chalet that weekend if

he went to the interview. Perhaps if his date went well, the alluring

blonde could accompany him.

It wasn’t as if Corey needed a job. His family was ridiculously

wealthy and Corey had just about everything he required to live a first-

class life; sky-rise apartment, corporate box tickets to



stylish clothes, cars, silver spoons, and the renowned last name that

never failed to reel in the gold-digging ladies.

Corey Guradi had a handsome face. His teeth were alabaster and

perfectly straight thanks to the overpriced dentist his parents had

paid for in his childhood. His Armani suit curled snug around his

toned and tanned body, the new Rolex he purchased just for this

occasion encasing his wrist. He knew the blonde would be impressed,

and it had been impossible not to notice the envious and admiring

glances from the chump who had sat across from him in the waiting

room, and was now being interviewed in the next room. Corey could

not fathom why the interview with that poor excuse of a rival was

taking so long. It was inconceivable that he would ever be chosen

over Corey.

The door to the interview room swung open. The chump

practically fell out of the room, his pudgy face blotchy and with

obvious sweat stains on his puckered shirt. Corey didn’t even try to

stifle his disdainful snort at the sight. This was going to be too easy.

He would trump that poor excuse for a rival in 5 minutes tops, and