Blondie Wannabe: A Billy Hargrove Fanfic

Job Listings

"Are you going to get a job or something?" Sal asked me a few days later at breakfast.

"Yeah, probably," I said, biting into some buttered toast. "Do you happened to know of a certain establishment looking for extra bartenders..."

"Not a chance."

"Or maybe just someone to mop up after?" I pleased.

"No, I prefer to keep my personal and professional life completely separate," he said, looking me dead in the eye. "I hope you understand."

"I do," I sighed, nodding. "I just have no idea how to start."

"Did I hear my favorite daughter's looking for a job?" my dad asked, coming up behind me. "You should check the classifieds; I have a copy of today's paper in my study if you'd like to take a look."

The pointlessly defiant part of me wanted to turn him down, but I truly had no idea how to get a job (I'd never needed one before), so I followed him to his personal office. It was a spacious room, an annex to the rest of the house with nothing built above it, so the ceilings were higher than the rest of the ground floor. It had one wall of bookshelves, and his desk near the windows, a PC taking up most of the space on it, the rest cluttered with documents.

"Here's the classifieds," he said, handing it to me. "You're lucky I hung on to them."

I forced a smile and took the newspaper section and left, sitting down on the couch to look through it, my brother watching TV next to me.

Most of the jobs were either something full time or involved manual labor that I couldn't imagine doing, quite a few required college degrees, and several were located in towns neighboring Hawkins that I couldn't manage the commute to.

The first one that seemed doable was a teaching assistant for an art class at Hawkins High, the only degree necessary was a High School diploma.

"Hey Steve," I said, nudging his shoulder. "How would you feel about me working at your school?"

"Huh, what'd you say?"

"I said, how would you feel about me working at your school?"

"What, no, no way!" he sputtered, looking at me as though I'd completely lost my mind.

"I'd be working in an art class. You're a senior, are you even taking art class this year?"

"That's not the point, you're my sister. It'd be so embarrassing for you to be there while I am."

"If you remember, we did go to school together," I reminded him; I was a senior when he was a freshman.

"But it's different, I've finally made a name for myself on my own. If you come back now, it'd mess all of that up." He saw my sad eyes and hastily added, "It's not that I don't want to see you, I just... can you please do this one favor for me?"

I nodded, turning the page to see if there was anything else I could make do with. One daytime secretarial position, no experience required. I could do that. "Alright, found something else."

"What is it?" Sal asked, sitting in the armchair to watch Magnum, P.I. with Steve.

"A secretary job."

"Ooh, a secretary," Sal said, grinning. "Not the most feminist position. You prepared to where a tight pencil skirt and get spanked by superiors?"

I just rolled my eyes, but Steve shot him a disgusted look. "Gross dude."

Sal laughed and sipped something bubbly from a can. "Where are you going to be working when you get the job?"

"If I get the job," I corrected, but I couldn't help my smile at his confidence in me. "I'll be working from ten to four at Hawkins Lab."

"No!" Steve shouted, practically jumping out of his seat. "You can't."

"What, why not?"

"You just can't."

"What the hell is wrong with you? Before you said I can't work at the school, now I can't work at some friggin' science lab-"

"Work at the school."

"Huh?"

"Work at the school, I don't mind, you love art anyway."

"I don't understand what's going on. First you freak out at the idea of me working at Hawkins High, and now you're all gung ho about it?"

"Deb, you're just going to have to trust me, the lab isn't a good place to work. I knew someone who did, and they fucking hated it."

I cocked an eyebrow. "Who do you know who works?"

Steve dabbed some sweat off his upper lip. "Friend of a friend."

"Well if it means that much to you, I'll take the job as a teaching assistant."

My brother exhaled in relief and grabbed my arms, hugging me tightly to him. "This means so much to me, you have no idea."

And he was right; I had absolutely no clue why it meant anything to him.