Chapter 2: The Probation
I rolled over and groaned, hating myself for forgetting to switch my phone off last night. I tapped the phone with my thumb, accepting the call, and was greeted by my sister Marcella's version of a 'normal volume hello'. Needless to say, my eardrums were damaged. I mumbled incoherently and Marcella sounded like she was frowning.
"Were you still sleeping?"
"You know, Marcella, that's what people tend to be doing at five thirty in the morning."
"In my defence it's four thirty here."
I frowned, confused. "How is that a defence?"
"I'm up earlier, silly!"
"So you have a licence to wake the dead? Got it."
She laughed, a sound that reminded me of being six years old and being woken by it. Marcella had had sleeping problems from a young age and at that time we'd still shared a room. I'd wake to her either giggling at my drooling, or her high chime laugh at the dopey expression that had been on my face.
"So...?" she asked.
"So...?" I echoed, wiping my eyes.
"Did you get the job?" she all but screeched.
"Oh. Uh, yeah."
I placed my phone under my pillow to dull the shrieks as I sat up and stretched. After a few moments I took it out and cautiously raised it to my ear.
"Congratulations, sis!"
"Uh, thanks."
"You don't seem very enthusiastic." I could practically see the frown lines on her forehead deepening.
"Well, it is five thirty."
She laughed. "You never were a morning person." I scratched my head and listened to her typing something into her computer.
"So what company is it?"
"Oh. I was planning on doing some research on it, but if you want to do the honours..."
"That's a very long name."
I smiled. "It's Harbour International."
Silence. I frowned at my cellphone. "Marcella? You still there?"
"Are you freaking joking?" she screamed.
I dropped the phone in surprise. I scooped it up again and pressed it to my ear, keen to hear what had
my sister in such a tizzy this time.
"Whatsup, Marce?"
"You can't tell me you don't know Harbour International!"
"Uh..."
"Cam! They only own or co-own absolutely everything!"
I frowned. "You're exaggerating," I accused.
"Not by much. Seriously! How could you not know this! Their name is on everything! Property, cellphone companies, entire corporations, cereal, tinned fruit - toiletpaper!"
"What about laxatives?"
"What? Why?"
"Just wanted to check that they have the whole digestive process covered."
There was an outburst of familiar male laughter.
"Marcella!" I exclaimed. "I can't believe you let Tony listen again!"
"Awww come on Cam, don't be mean," Marcella said affectionately, "you know how much Tony loves
you. And your wacky sense of humour."
