Rented {SLOW UPDATES}

4 - Interview - Jack

 September 

         "Jack," she slurred. "I need you to take me home."

        "You're drunk." I caught her by the arm before she could face plank onto a stool. "I don't even know where your house is."

        "Here." she fumbled with her car keys and then unsteadily threw them at me. "You drive, I'll drink."

        She grabbed a wine bottle from the cabinet, popped the cork, and took a swig. Her face twisted in delight.

        "That's how wine is supposed to taste!" she yelled as she waved her arm around, nearly splashing the alcohol on an expensive looking painting. "At least these bitches know how to throw a party."

        "We really need to get you home." I pried the bottle from her hand.

        "That's mine Jack!" As soon as those words left her mouth, she collapsed onto the floor, face first.  

        I lugged her out of the house and eventually found her car. Setting her down onto the chair, I grabbed the seatbelt and buckled it for her.

        Before I pulled myself out, her hand shot out and grabbed my face.

        "You know, Jack," she said half asleep. "You're a really good kisser."     

        For a second, my heart stopped. Her golden eyes glittered sleepily and her tousled platinum hair fell from her high bun. Her warm hand on my cheek made me want to lean in and...

        "MF!" Olivia's cheeks puffed out.

        Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

        I tried to back away but her hand was clasped around my neck, making me unable to flee. She threw her other hand up to her mouth, but that wasn't enough to stop her dinner from flying all over me.

Two weeks before

        "Your name?" The girl smacked her gum at me.

        "Jack. Jack Matthew Cooper."

        She gave me a scan that started from the toes of my feet, all the way up to the tip of my dark hair. I restrained myself from squirming like a caterpillar that was taken hostage by a kid with a magnifying glass.

        "Take a seat in the waiting room." She motioned with her pen to a lounge that consisted of leather chairs.

        I slowly made my way into the room with my clipboard and sat down. There were a few other men lounging around making awkward glances here and there. They all seemed desperate for a job.

        I started filling out my form that started out with the basic information. Name, birthdate, eye color, hair color etc.

        Then, things got interesting.

        What are your talents? How much can you lift? Can you play any instruments?  Do you know how to fix a sink? What is your foot size?

        I frowned. Foot size? Why the hell does that matter?

        After finishing the form, I turned it in to the gum-smacker at the desk. Absentmindedly tracing the crescent shaped scar on my forearm, my mind began to drift.

        What if I don't get the job? How am I going to pay the land owner? Why did Claire get me into this mess?

        "Hey," a deep voice greeted me.