Niam Smut

» Working Under The Table «

Niall dug the heels of his hands against his cheeks and rubbed furiously.

Don't cry. Do not cry!

The computer screen was the only light in his tiny apartment. He couldn't afford to waste electricity. He didn't run the refrigerator, didn't turn the lights on, and didn't watch television. He was cabled into his router so he could disable the Wi-Fi and save his laptop's battery life. He lived off canned food and fresh fruit.

Look on the bright side, he thought humorlessly. You've lost thirty pounds. You look fitter than you ever did at university.

A lot of good that did him.

Niall stared up at the screen again, but nothing had changed. The only emails he had from his hundreds of job applications were a small handful of rejections. But at least that small handful of employers had bothered to let him know. Most of his applications were like bottles thrown into the ocean, potentially lost forever.

His gaze dragged itself to the letter next to his keyboard.

Oh, sure! You want to go to university, kid? You wanna learn about computers and work in I.T. where the big bucks are? Well, that'll cost you! But it's okay, you can get loans, and then you'll earn the big bucks and those loans will be easy to repay!

Well, here he was, with a Bachelor's in Computer Science from NYU and the debt to prove it. The letter from the loan company was just the icing on the shitty cake that Niall's life was transforming into.

Thanks a lot, recession.

He sucked in a breath and rubbed at his eyes again. All he could do now was get some sleep, and try pounding the pavements in the morning.

Again.

* * *

Niall only had one suit. Wearing it was a calculated risk. The more he wore it, the more frequently he had to clean it, but cleaning it ate into his funds because it couldn't go into the washer at the laundromat. It was also too big for him; he'd spent part of his loan on it for graduation, thinking he'd have a work suit out of it when school was done with, but six months eating ramen and apples had dropped him to a 32" waist.

He looked like his mom had dressed him.

So he used a belt to tighten the pants, and wore a thick wool coat he'd got from a thrift store the other day instead of the jacket. Hopefully the shirt and tie were enough to pass for professional.

Niall tucked a folder under his arm and set off to get a bus into the city.

* * *

He was running out of résumés. Getting more printed at the library cost money, and unemployment cost more money. The math wasn't favorable either way. Most times he was just leaving them with receptionists who probably dumped them in the trash the moment he was gone.

His cellphone peeped and he dug it out of his coat, flipping the cheap plastic shell open quickly. "Hello?"

"Good afternoon. Is that Mr. Niall Horan?"
The man's voice was warm. Chocolatey. It dripped with decadence, and for a moment Niall was utterly confused by it.

"Uh. It is, yes..."

"I'm Liam Payne, from Fischer-Joso. I have your résumé. I understand you're looking for I.T. work?"

"Yes!" Niall stopped in his tracks, then stepped into the shade of a doorway.

"You got a Bachelor's from NYU, is that right?"

"Yessir, that's right!"

"But you've got a gap after graduation. Are you unemployed?"

Niall's grip on the phone tightened. Here it came. "Yessir, I am," he said, his shoulders slumping.