Carl lowers the paper slowly, his icy blue eyes rising to judge me. Noah makes what sounds like a derisive snort and disappears to one of the stations, shaking the hand of a bulky man in a leather vest waiting there.
“I’m Kyla,” I say, stepping forward and holding out my hand. “My friend Dawn told me you’re looking for an administrator. She told me to come for an interview.”
Carl’s eyes drift to my hand, and he stands, rising to a height that should be impossible. I thought Noah was tall, but Carl is more wall than man. When his hand envelopes mine in a brisk and firm shake, it’s like a giant shaking hands with a child.
Clearing his throat, he draws his hand back. “You’d better come through to the back.”
He turns before I have a chance to respond and makes his way deeper into the shop, leaving me with a view of his retreating form. And what a form it is.
In his snug gray shirt, the V of his back is like an ancient marble carving of Hercules. His powerful ass and thighs are almost fighting to get out of the confines of his jeans. And his arms…oh Lord, his arms. His biceps are bigger than the widest point of my leg.
As I finally find the brain cells to tell my body to move, I feel eyes on me. I don’t turn to look at the other men who are staring at me with interest. They’re supposed to be working, and I’m supposed to be making a way more professional impression than I’m making right now.
Carl disappears through a door, and I stumble to keep up, finally stepping into an office space that is nothing like the customer-facing side of the business. In here, it’s sterile white, with a mishmash of generic office furniture and piles and piles of paperwork.
Two chairs are tucked under the desk, and Carl pulls one out, offering it to me before slumping into the other. When I take a seat, I find myself sitting really close to him without the protection of a table between us.
Awkward.
“So, Kyla?” He sounds uncertain that he’s remembered my name correctly.
“Yes. Kyla.”
Carl nods, jotting my name down on a scrappy piece of paper. “Have you worked in a tattoo shop before?”
Shaking my head, I feel the dread of failure already creeping in, but I straighten my shoulders and channel Dawn’s confidence. “I don’t know anything about tattoos, but I do know admin. I have experience in organizing small businesses, and I can put in place systems for bookings, finances, and human resource admin. I know how to get you out of this mess.”
My eyes drift over what is frankly disorganization and chaos.
“Do you have a résumé?”
“Not with me. This was kind of sprung on me this afternoon, but I can send it to you when I get home.”
Carl studies me carefully, the ice blue of his eyes scanning me like an x-ray machine. What’s he thinking right now? I’d love to know what’s going on in his head. He’s probably wondering why a scruffy woman has wasted his time without any evidence of being qualified.
“Well, you come very highly recommended,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
“By Dawn,” I smile. “She’s always singing my praises, but she’s not exactly a previous employer.”
“And this isn’t exactly a traditional small business. We’re all here because we love our art. The business side is just taking over. All I want to be able to do is hand it over to someone and get on with what we started this business for in the first place.”
“Well, I’m certainly happy to take it on.” I scan the office again, already itching to order some pretty pastel-colored files and one of those machines that prints out labels. I’ll have this place organized in no time if Carl will just see that I’m made for this job.
“One-week trial,” he says with determination in his deep voice.
“I have a job,” I say, “And I can’t give it up for a trial.”
“Can you stay now? Work three hours and take me through what you’ve done. I’ll pay your rate for the time you spend, regardless of whether you get the job at the end.
“Three hours?” I’m already exhausted from a long shift, but if that’s what it’s going to take for Carl to see my skills in all their glory, I’ll do it.
I tell him my rate, and he doesn’t even blink at the amount Dawn suggested. With a simple nod, he stands and stares at the worst pile. “It’s all yours.”
And then he’s gone, and I’m left to sift through the worst disorganization I’ve ever seen in my life.
3
CARL
Kyla sorts through the surface mounds of paperwork for three hours, forming piles amongst the chaos. There’s so much dust in that room that I almost head in there with a cloth for her to wipe her hands on but to be honest, I’m too embarrassed. It’s not like me to let life get into a disorganized state, but I’ve just taken on too much that I don’t enjoy, and I’m craving to get back to my passion.