It's Complicated

Chapter 6

My phone rang right as we hit the food court around one. I rushed to answer. "Miss Jenkins?" came a familiar voice.

"Yes?"

"This is Mr. Scott from the salon. I spoke to my wife, and she wants to hire you."

"I got the job?"

"Yes. I'll discuss the particulars with you in person. Would you be able to come by this afternoon?"

"Yes, I will. What time?"

"Would an hour from now work with you?"

I glanced at the girls. "That should work fine. I'll see you at two, sir." We said our goodbyes and when I hung up, the girls began pelting me with questions. I told them to wait until we sit down to eat. They managed to contain themselves at least that long. Once we were all seated, I glanced around at them. "I got a job working for Mr. Scott at the salon."

Amanda squealed. "Yay! He's a dream to work for. He treats all of his employees like family. I would work there, myself, but I'm no good at anything related to nails, hair, or makeup. Rebecca is, but she's content to just do my hair and nails."

Susan, going into her usual theatrics, gave me a huge squeeze and then held me at arm's length. "You are going to be so good, Daisy. Do you know what that means?" Before I could respond, she answered herself. "It means that you're going to be a manicurist and makeup artist before the end of the year!" She sat back down and began calmly eating a burger, the dramatic actions dropped.

It was all I could do to not rain on her parade. I was pretty sure I wouldn't be that good, and there was no way I was going to be learning all of that immediately, anyway.

---

Mr. Scott was waiting at the front desk for me. He checked his watch. "A minute early. Good," he said. "Follow me." I followed him down a short hallway and into a cluttered office. An older woman around his age sat inside. She looked as if she were extremely tired. Mr. Scott instructed me to sit and, once I did, walked behind the lady and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Betty, I want you to meet the girl that wants to be our new receptionist."

"Nice to meet you, Miss Jenkins," Mrs. Scott said. "I hear you're up to eventually becoming one of our stylists."

"Yes, I am," I told her in my politest voice.

She nodded. "Well, I suppose you can start tomorrow. Trial basis, of course. If we're not satisfied with your progress after a couple of weeks, we'll let you go with good references. In the meantime, Patrick will give you some paperwork to fill out for us. Once you get that done, you can go on home. I'm sure you've probably got friends to hang out with or homework to do."

After that, she left to man the desk, and her husband provided me with a pen and so many papers for me to sign that I forgot what was on everything before I got to the last one. He informed me that when I came in tomorrow I'd begin training and some of the stylists would test me out to see what I could and couldn't do as far as nails and makeup went. Monday would be my first official day on the job.

When I left, I wanted to call George and tell him so badly, but he was working. Instead, I called Mario. The moment he answered his phone, I shouted, "I got the job!"

A moment later, he said in a pained voice tinged with excitement, "Aye, woman, tone it down. I think you may have damaged my hearing, brought deafness a year closer." He sighed with a chuckle. "Which job did you get?"

"I got the job at the salon. You know, Mr. Scott."

"That's great! When do you start?"

"I start Monday, but they want me to come tomorrow to gauge my skills."