“Oh, yeah,” I answer quickly. “I’ve got my driver’s license if you want to see it?”
Ms. Atwood laughs. “You’re funny,” she says, shaking her head. “Is it contingent on anything, or do you have free rein? We always need to make sure.”
“Oh, I’m totally legal,” I assure her. “A citizen with free rein all the way.”
She smiles again. “Wonderful. Well, you do seem to be a diamond in the rough. We’re lucky you came in today.”
Surprise filters through me, but I don’t want to show it and make her reconsider. “Thank you.”
“You’d be required to work five days a week on a rotating schedule, and there may be opportunities to work overtime depending on the needs of the estate and your fit with the team. Would you be open to that?”
“My schedule is very flexible, and I’m always available to work on holidays,” I offer, because working on Christmas beats being alone, or worse, getting pity invites to someone’s house where you get a front row seat to how loved and happy their home life is. No thanks.
“That’s excellent to know,” Ms. Atwood beams. “So when can you start?”
I’m taken a little aback. Wait… That’s it? No tell us about yourself and why you think you’re worthy? No reference checks or drug tests? I swallow down the excitement that bubbles up in my chest and tap into the caution my mother always told me I needed to practice more of.
“Before I accept, I just want to be sure that there won’t be any kind of bait and switch type of scenarios here. I’m not going to show up and discover some webcam girl situation or find out that I have to partake in any other questionable activity like telemarketing or becoming an overly friendly Chick-fil-A order taker? Pretty sure they’re possessed by something, and I’m just not game to find out,” I add on a friendly yet suspicious chuckle.
Ms. Atwood laughs again, but it goes from a tinkling to a full belly laugh, and I have to stop myself from joining in, because it’s a tad contagious.
“They really are too polite to pass as human, aren’t they?” she agrees, and I give in and giggle with her.
“I have a really good feeling about you, Delta. I promise that all you have to do is guard the gate at the Perdition Estate. You wouldn’t be the first to question what the catch is, but I swear there isn’t one. It’s a draining position which can take a lot out of you, but I think you’re up to the task, and you’ll find it very rewarding,” she tells me with a wide reassuring smile that helps me feel instantly at ease.
I take a deep breath and smile right back. “I’m available as early as this weekend,” I tell her, and she claps her hands once excitedly and rises out of her chair.
Well, fuck. If luck be a lady, then I’m going down on her tonight.
“Perfect!” Ms. Atwood cheers, like it’s the best news she’s heard all day. “Missy will get all of the paperwork sorted, and you can start Sunday at dusk.” She reaches out, and I abandon the best chair ever to stand and shake her hand again.
“Excellent. I’m excited to get started,” I supply professionally as I bite down on the squee that wants to come ripping out of my throat.
Play it cool, Delta. Pretend that people offer you easy, well-paying jobs all the time. Nothing new here to get squealy about.
Any reservations I have over the fact that Ms. Atwood hasn’t expressed concern over my lack of experience or anything else is chased away by my daydreams of not having to avoid calls from debt collectors and being able to catch up on all my bills. Shit, I’ll finally be able to fund the repairs that my shack of an old house needs. And I might even be able to trade in my cantankerous moped for a new car in just a couple of months, especially if I can do overtime.
This job is perfect, and even though it has the feel of too good to be true, I’m not going to worry. Hell, I’ve earned this good luck break in my life. I’m going to be grateful for it instead of scaring it away with logic and suspicion. At this point, there isn’t much I wouldn’t do for this kind of money, so I chase away my concerns with a broom and shout good riddance as I slam the door shut on their ungrateful asses.
Ms. Atwood walks me to the glass door and pulls it open, and I thank her again for her time and the job offer before I trace my steps back out to the receptionist. As the receptionist, Missy, gets my information, I can feel all my pent-up financial stresses start to float away.
Things are turning around for me. I won’t be foreclosed on and kicked out. I won’t have to start over or try to file for bankruptcy. I’m going to have a new job, making a shit ton of money, and benefits. I can actually go to the dentist for that cleaning I’ve been putting off. Now all I need to do is find a boy toy who’s just as emotionally unavailable as I am but is mind-blowing in bed.
Yep, things are finally looking up.
2
“Could you send this back for me, Delta?”
I turn at my coworker’s voice, immediately noting the pinched expression on Vicky’s face. She’s golden-blonde and pretty, in her mid-thirties, and she’s been working here about as long as I have. It’s busy tonight at Ballpark Brew House, since Sean put up the Going Out of Business sign. I guess all the town drunks want to get in a few more times before we close for good.
I take the bottle of beer from Vicky and immediately see the sediment settled on the bottom. “Shit, he’s serving expired beer?”
Vicky nods. “Customer
