Fragments

11 | The Job

11 | The Job

The blue loading sign swirls around as I click on the refresh button on the web browser. My gaze zooms in on the number at the bottom of the screen. That can't be right. I shouldn't have money in this account but the number showing proves otherwise.

I click on the information section and notice the title of the payment has, 'we miss you, please come home.'

My heart twinges with pain, yet I can't bring myself to leave this place. I lived in a world where I only saw the black and white slicks of pain and masked perfection. Now that I'm standing away from them, I'm beginning to see the sparks of red.

I knew my parents would catch onto the fact I was stealing money from their account. It was never going to be a reliable source of income, but I took the gamble. I packed my bags, stole their money, and ran.

Leaving Scarlett isn't an option right now. I will return home but until then, I need to find a job.

There's no business at the motel, so that's an easy no. I don't have experience or qualifications for bartending, but maybe I can flip burgers for a minimal wage? I just need enough to cover the expenses of the room.

I have to try. I won't leave unless I really have to.

Closing my laptop, I slide the chunky device under my bed and wander towards the set of draws pressed against the wall.

I grab a fresh set of clothes and walk to the bathroom to change. I button my black polo shirt and run my fingers through my hair to neaten it. Spraying cologne, I step out of the bathroom and head towards the lobby.

As I descend the stairs, I hear the faint tune of music radiating from the secret room behind the desk. I can't make out the words, but the base gives me the impression it is pop music, perhaps the radio is playing.

Wandering across the road, I step into the diner and look around. It's mid-afternoon which leaves the diner with a lack of customers.

The one face I do recognise is Gloria. She's tucked behind the counter scrubbing something sticky off the countertop.

I tug on my biggest and brightest smile and casually cough to grab her attention. Gloria jumps to attention, her own bright smile playing on her tired face.

"Hi Gloria, can I please speak to the manager?" I inquire.

"Sure, just take a seat in one of the booths."

"Okay, thank you." I grin.

I hesitantly take a seat and look towards the kitchen. Gloria pokes her head through a small rectangle window that has a docket stuck to the side wood panel.

After a moment passes, Gloria moves away from the window and grabs a pot of coffee and treks towards a waiting customer.

"You wanted to speak with me?" a gruff voices booms in my direction.

I look across the table to see Bruce already seated in my book. He rests one arm on the table and takes a deep breath. I notice the white apron is dirty with grease stains and his black top drenched with sweat.

This could be me. I could be dressed in a sweat-soaked shirt with a dirty apron from a long shift in the kitchen. This isn't the future I'd dreamt about, but the prospect of hard work renders me hopeful. I'd never worked under these circumstances before.

"Truthfully, I need a job," I explain. "I was wondering if you had something going. I'm a hard worker and I'll do whatever needs doing. I'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."

"I'm sorry kid-" he begins to say.

"Anything, and I really mean anything. You say jump and I ask how high."

"You seem like a good lad." Bruce looks around the quiet diner. "But Gloria and I, well, we manage just fine by ourselves. There isn't a lot of business that runs us off our feet."

"Oh." I sigh.

"I'll keep you in mind if circumstances change," Bruce replies.

Gloria storms down the aisle and slams her hand on the table. My heart erratically thunders in my chest. Her brown eyes gaze into mine quizzically which makes me nervous. What is she doing?

"Are you good with numbers?"  

"Yes, I took an accounting class in school." I sharply nod.

"Great, you can be our bookkeeper." Gloria smiles.

"Really?" I gasp. "That's perfect, I'm great with numbers and books."

My gaze hesitantly flickers towards Bruce to gauge the reaction playing on his face. A small smile filters onto his thin lips.

"Good, because I don't have the mind for numbers. Gloria is always telling me off about it." Bruce pouts.

"I love numbers," I repeat as if my life depends on it.

"We'll get started then!" Bruce claps his hands.

Gloria wanders off to greet a new customer while Bruce walks towards the kitchen. I don't know if I should follow, so I remain seated.

Bruce shortly returns with a large overflowing lever arch folder and dumps it on the table. My stomach twists and turns with knots. This is going to be a lot of work.

"This needs to be sorted." He pats the top. "And I have three more like it."

"Did I mention I also love a challenge?" I nervously laugh.

"You can work your own hours and have the back booth since we don't have official office space," Bruce explains.

"Thank you so much."

"I can pay you fifteen an hour and provide you one free meal per day. Does that sound good?" he asks.

"Yes! Thank you once again for the opportunity."

Bruce shoots me a smile and walks away. I take the folder and walk to the back booth to begin work. Gloria gives me a pen, calculator, and a few other utensils to help me.

I take a deep breath and sigh. I've gotten myself into some serious work! It doesn't look like Bruce has looked into this folder in years. Though, it means I'll have work for the next couple of months.

The smart thing would be to go home, but I've never been smart and not when it comes to Scarlett. 

What is something dumb you've done or someone else?