I take about four steps before Henry comes strutting out from behind the red curtain.
“What’d you figure out? Because I think I need Tyler tomorrow for the Hightower family. There’s about fourteen of them, and I’ll need help with the setup. Actually, why don’t you come at nine and Jordyn’ll give you a tutorial on the books and all that crap. The Hightowers are scheduled for noon, so that’ll give us plenty of setup time.”
I look to Jordyn to try to figure out what to say, but she stares at the floor. I can still see the steam pouring out of her ears, so I know I should tell him it’s not a good fit for me or something. But I really need the job.
“Don’t be late, Tyler Blackwell.” Henry dismisses me with a heavy pat on the shoulder.
“I won’t.”
Jordyn finally makes eye contact with me. She looks like I’ve just killed her cat and she’s plotting a very elaborate and very painful revenge. This should be fun.
FIVE
I arrive early on Sunday for my first official day on the job, unsure what to expect besides outright hatred from Jordyn.
She shows up at ten till nine, wearing a long black skirt with this black leather motorcycle jacket even though it’s already eighty degrees out, and walks past me to the door like I’m not there. As soon as she’s unlocked it, I open it, trying to be nice. She makes a disgusted sound at the back of her throat. It’s a don’t-even-try-to-act-like-you’re-a-decent-person-’cause-I’m-onto-you sound. I hold the door for her anyway.
“So . . . paperwork?” I ask.
She sets her bag on the counter and places her hands on either side of it, looking at me. “You better be serious about this,” she says, “because Henry’s my family and I won’t have you—”
“Look, I didn’t even know you had anything to do with this. I didn’t even know you were you. I’m not doing this to ruin your perfect little life.”
“How Tyler Blackwell of you,” she says.
I’ll be surprised if I make it through the day.
Jordyn spends the morning explaining every detail of the appointment software she’s incredibly proud of writing. It’s so easy that even my dad in his drunkest state could use it, but Jordyn insists on treating me like I have the IQ of a monkey.
After she’s satisfied that I’m not a total idiot, we move on to the paperwork.
“Bring your birth certificate with you tomo—”
I place my birth certificate and driver’s license on the counter. “Do you want me to make a copy? Or maybe you should explain how a copier works, because I’m obviously a complete tool.”
She rolls her eyes as she heads into the back. I assume that’s my cue to follow.
The copier is packed into a claustrophobic “kitchen” behind the studio space. I expect Jordyn to give me a lecture about copier safety or something, but instead she goes to the fridge and pours herself a glass of orange juice.
I open the copier, place my birth certificate and license on the glass, and hit START.
Nothing.
I read the little bluish screen; everything seems in order, so I push START again.
Again nothing.
Well, damn. I just played right into that, didn’t I.
Sure enough, when I turn, she’s wearing a shit-eating grin so big, I have to remind myself how much I need this job.
She shoves me out of the way, punches in some numbers, and hits START. This time the floor beneath my feet vibrates as the copier roars to life. When it spits out the sheet, Jordyn snatches it and shoves it into my chest. “The code’s 10086, douchebag.”
I follow her back to the front, where I have the privilege of filling out all my paperwork as she gloats. The most messed-up thing is that it’s kind of nice to interact with someone who doesn’t *foot around my shit.
“What?” Jordyn snaps at me.
I didn’t realize I was staring. “Nothing. It’s just . . . What happened to you?”
Her dark, purple-rimmed eyes narrow. She takes a breath and parts her dark red lips to, I’m sure, tell me off—
The little door chime rings. Henry hums an atonal melody as he passes us, heading through the red curtain.
Jordyn and I stare each other down until the air in the room is so thick, I’m surprised it’s breathable.
“Tyler Blackwell, I need your muscles back here!” Henry’s voice booms from behind the curtain, declaring our staring contest a draw. I feel the corners of my mouth twitch up, then I shrug and saunter back to help my actual boss. I’m almost surprised nothing comes flying at the back of my head.