Coasting

Chapter 5

Day 12

An unknown number called me at ten in the morning the following day. I was sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee. Monica had just left for work-Michael was always gone by seven in the morning-and I was already bored out of my mind, reading the comics from the Sunday paper, two days old.

I was surprised to see an unknown number, but answered it anyway. "Hello?"

"Is this Jamie?" came the voice of a man. A voice I did not recognize.

"This is she."

"You came into Beach Brew, uh, a couple days ago?"

"Yes," I said quickly and thought of Courtney.

"I'm Donald, the owner. Courtney Dickson mentioned that you stopped in, looking for a job."

"Yes, I-I am."

"Would you come in today, for an interview?"

"Of course!" I said, standing up. "What time?"

"How about one this afternoon?"

"Perfect," I said since my entire day was free.

"See you then," he said and hung up.

I placed my phone back on the table, completely and utterly surprised that Courtney actually gave that stupid napkin of my name and number to her boss. I considered that maybe she changed her mind about me when she met me the other night at Kyle's, but didn't think too much into it.

At 12:57, I walked into Beach Brew. Courtney was behind the counter, her eyes downcast, and I could tell by subtle movement that she was texting. When the door slammed shut behind me, she looked up and set her phone down on the counter.

"Jamie."

"Hey, Courtney," I said, walking to sit on one of the bar stools at the counter.

"Ready to meet Donald," she said with a sigh.

"I guess?" I said. I was about to ask her more about her boss but then a man came out from the back room. He was older; his hairline was completely gray, only bits and pieces of black shining through. The wrinkles on his face were well worn in and he smiled at me with a closed mouth.

"Jamie!" he said, and raised his arms in the air to form a sort of W.

"Hi," I said, looking at Courtney for answers, but she was staring at the ceiling.

"Come," he said, walking from behind the bar to one of the tables closest to the window. "Come sit. I'm Donald."

I met him at the table and shook his hand. "It's nice to meet you," I said respectfully.

We both sat down and he began to ask me the typical questions of an interview. I felt Courtney's eyes on me the whole time, as if she was judging my every answer...I couldn't tell if she wanted me to work here or not-much less her feelings toward me in general. She gave my name and number to Donald though, right? So she must not be completely against it...

"Well," Donald said, finally, "how does starting this Thursday sound?"

"That sounds great," I said and couldn't stop myself from smiling.

Donald sighed happily and turned to Courtney. "Hear that, Dickson? You'll finally get more breaks."

"Thank god," Courtney muttered and I realized she hadn't given Donald my number because she wanted to be my co-worker. She did it because she wanted more time off.