Silver / clay

⊱ 13 ⊰

Eyeing Caleb, the receptionist picked up the phone. "City Auto Dismantlers. This is Nikki, how can I help you?"

Caleb twiddled his thumbs on the torn couch as the hum of heavy machinery wafted past the yellow-stained window. He wasn't nervous, nor excited, merely tired. He'd been up late, volunteering to close the restaurant for Tony, yet again.

He ironed out the long sleeves of his clean shirt, pressing over the creases of prolonged bunching, before flicking his face clear of a wild fringe.

"Cameron?"

"Caleb," said Caleb, rising, smiling, holding out a hand.

"Right," said the questioner, pencilling over the form in his hands, neglecting to feign interest in the correction. "Johnno."

They shook hands, firmly, Johnno leading Caleb to his dishevelled office.

"How's your morning been?" said Caleb.

"Tiring," said Johnno, flinging resumes off his busy desk. "But, new policy -- we have to interview every single person who applies. It's what sets us apart, apparently." The bitterness dribbled from his lips.

Caleb took a seat, smiled politely.

"Don't normally get guys in for this kinda job," said Johnno.

The expression remained planted on Caleb's face.

"All right," said Johnno, with a sigh, studying a small list of questions painted on a dog-eared scrap of paper. "What do you know about cars?"

"Oh, loved them all my life," lied Caleb.

"What do you drive?"

"Erm, I'm in between cars at the moment."

The man eyed him. Returned to his list. "What have you done?"

It took Caleb a moment to understand. "You mean job-wise?"

Johnno sat back, a contorted contempt in his scrunched face, hissing through a wet mouth.

"Lately I've been in hospitality," said Caleb. When it didn't elicit a response, he tried another tack: "I work hard."

The promise was met with a grunt, and a whiff of ice-coffee, which Johnno scooped up once more and poured liberally into his mouth, wiping it clean with a stained sleeve. "What relevant experience have you got?"

"I've completed an accounting degree," said Caleb. "During the course, we examined every type of--"

"We need someone with experience," said Johnno.

"I'm confident I can perform the required tasks," said Caleb.

"Yeah," said Johnno, stretching the word out, "we really need someone with experience."

"My work history has shown I can take on new tasks and--"

"Sure, you'll have ta clean the kitchen now and then, take care of the boys, but this is a proper office job."

"I know," said Caleb.

Johnno took another long swig, his neck contorting from the mass of liquid. "I'll level with ya--" He scoured the resume. "Caleb. Most of you lot have come in just to tick it off the list, just so you can keep gettin' ya Centrelink payments."

"That's not me," said Caleb.

"The other lot are scared off when they see the place, that's the females."

"I'm not scared," said Caleb.

"No, I guess not," said Johnno, laconically. "And you've dressed up for it and all." He took a deep breath. "Rightio. I'll let ya know what we-- Where's ya address?"

"I have a phone number," said Caleb, rising enough to helpfully point in the general direction.

"Nah, nah, we have to do it by the book. Ever since we got taken over by that other mob, they wanna check up on everything we do." Johnno shook his head, annoyed.

"I don't mind if you send a text," said Caleb. "It's still recorded, if that's what they're after."

"Nah, nah, I'll need an address," said Johnno, punching through unsorted invoices in search of a pen. Once discovered, he held it poised in the air, an expectant look on his face.

Caleb flirted with the idea of giving his last residence, but quickly dismissed it, that part of his life in the past, where it belonged.

He knew how this was going to end.

"I'm between homes at the moment," he said, his smile mostly gone, but his eyes fixed, not a large enough blow to remove the dignity, not nearly enough to destroy his faith in providence leading him on the right path.

"Yeah," said Johnno, "we can't have some bum working here, not when you'll be approving payment to suppliers. You could just make some shit up and send the money to your drug dealer or whatever."

It didn't offend Caleb. Despite the manifest falsity of the claim, his honesty -- and lack of drug-taking -- didn't need to be defended. "I understand," he said, drenched in the confidence that this was still the best avenue forward for Amala. He'd never been this driven in his life, and it felt energising, like he was an unstoppable force of nature. This wasn't even a bump on an uneven surface, let alone a roadblock.

Johnno's expression was at once lighter and more grave. It was as if the two sides of his face had switched.

"Thanks for the opportunity to come in and chat," said Caleb.

This time the pressure of the handshake barely registered for Caleb. The other man's grip was limp, forgiving.

Johnno scratched the back of his neck, eyes down, before hesitantly waving Caleb toward the door. "Yeah," he said.

"No, sorry, you'll have to try some place else," said Nikki, to the phone, as Caleb wafted past the receptionist desk.