Published by Gallery Books, an imprint of Simon and Schuster, in an anthology called Once Upon Now! Available on Amazon and at other other fine retailers.
Cupid has an epic party, but, whoops! He accidentally sinks Charon's Ferry. Hades is not amuse...
Phoebe chewed her pinkie, her mind racing, as Inaya pulled the Spider into the Bullseye Mattress showroom parking lot at five till eleven.
The final test was to take place when no one would be in the building, even the cleaning crew. But what was the test? Phoebe knew it had something to do with quality control, and this worried her. She was a business major, not a mattress major. What did she know about mattress quality? Every mattress in the store looked a thousand times more comfortable than her lumpy foldout sofa-bed.
"You'll do great," said Inaya, kissing Phoebe's head. "I'll be back at midnight. I have a place picked out to celebrate. My baby is going to be old enough to drink!"
"Mom, we should save that money for rent or food. I might not get the job."
"You will get the job. And my daughter only turns 21 once."
"Bye, Mom. I love you." Phoebe pushed open the heavy glass door at the entrance to the showroom.
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All the chandeliers were lit, casting a dappled glow over the sea of mattresses. Mr. and Mrs. Fitzgerald, both in red jackets—his Member's Only, hers probably Chanel, beamed at her as they exited the elevator. "You're right on time," said Mrs. Fitzgerald.
"Welcome, Phoebe," Mr. Fitzgerald nodded his bald head.
"Good to be here, and thanks for the opportunity."
"We're impressed with everything you've done so far," said Mrs. Fitzgerald.
"Thanks."
"As you know," Mrs. Fitzgerald smoothed her hair, "Bullseye Mattresses are known for our impeccable quality. We have a twenty-year guarantee. We use only the finest materials. Each mattress is handmade by experts. Every mattress that leaves our store must be perfect." She cleared her throat and glanced at her husband.
"I understand." Phoebe knew all this, having done her research. It was as if Mrs. Fitzgerald was delaying. Perhaps there was something about the test or the job she didn't want Phoebe to know.
"Excellent. So, the test is simple. Starting at 11 p.m. you'll have one hour to find the one mattress in the showroom that has a flaw." She pointed to a large digital clock mounted next to the one-way glass mirror, which Phoebe knew was the Fitzgerald's office. The numbers clicked from 10:57 to 10:58.
She heard a bumping sound coming from the office. "Um, how is Weston?" she glanced up at the window.
Mrs. Fitzgerald flashed a glance at the office and fiddled with her pearl necklace. "He's fine. No cause for alarm. We'll be watching from upstairs. Good luck." They called the elevator.
"How will I know when I've found the faulty mattress?"
"You'll know," said Mrs. Fitzgerald, well ... knowingly. The doors closed as the digital clock clicked over to 11:00.
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