“It pays well. Plus, you know how slow things get in winter.”
“How well?”
“Three thousand a week well.”
“Holy shit.”
“See why I couldn’t turn it down.”
“What about your business? And the restaurant?”
It’s like a stake to the heart. The thought of giving up both my job at the restaurant––a job I will never be able to replace later or get back––and putting my beloved business on hold hurts so much I can hardly stand it, but there’s no use in torturing myself. This is my chance to hang on to my properties. I have to make it work. There’s no alternative and there’s no turning back time.
“Forget that now. I need your help.”
“Anything.”
“Clothes…I need to look the part. What do I wear?”
Chapter Five
Riley
“You got this…no sweat…this is EZ street compared to the foundation you poured by yourself for Mrs. Torrano’s new garage…” I mutter at the image in the mirror.
My nerves are shot right now. My stomach is acting up, a bad case of the nervous jitters. Facing down two junkies on a crime spree does nothing to my sensitive stomach, but a job interview with a cold tech billionaire has me reaching for the Pepto-Bismal. Veronica’s right, there’s something wrong with me.
There’s no time for psych evaluation now, however. I’ve got to get it together or there’s a very good chance my stomach will fail me at some point on my way uptown to West’s apartment and I can’t have that.
“You’re gonna wreck this interview”––my stomach gurgles––“or maybe not.” I’ll definitely have to pop another Pepto.
At least, I’m dressed for the occasion. Thanks to Vern, I barely recognize the person staring back in the mirror. As promised, she came by the house before leaving for work and did my hair (low bun, not too tight) and my makeup (work appropriate). She also lent me her Dolce & Gabbana navy blouse with the mandarin collar and her black slacks that look cropped on me since I’m four inches taller than the Puerto Rican princess.
I look the part of a successful tech guy’s personal assistant, but then what? What if he asks me to do something I have no clue how to accomplish? Like…set up a Zoom meeting? In that case I’m f––
“Who are you talking to?” my mother says, barging into my bedroom. She’s still wearing her robe which indicates she doesn’t have a temp job lined up for today.
For years Bonnie was a librarian at the famed New York City Public Library, but after my father died she had to resign. Too many sick days. Too many leave of absences. She’s been working temp jobs ever since.
“No one.” Grabbing my messenger bag, I make for the door.
Eyeballing me, she brushes her shoulder-length curly bob behind her ear and crosses her arms. Bonnie knows something’s afoot.
“I still don’t understand why you would take an office job? You’ve never been good behind a desk…”
Always the cheerleader, my mother. I can always count on her to make me feel less than good. It’s not that she’s malicious. She’s just a glass half empty kinda person.
“…and you have your own business.”
I can’t tell her how much West is paying me otherwise she’ll get the wrong impression and assume all that money is going into the family till. It’s not like she oversteps about my finances; I’ve been earning my own keep since I was a teenager so she really has no standing. But she’s still my mother. Besides, lying takes effort and energy that I don’t have to give. I’m also not very good at it. So I generally tend to stay away from it. There’s not much I keep from her…except, you know, the big stuff.
Sigh. I’m juggling a lot of balls here.
“Like I said, it’s a stable paycheck during the winter and…and I’m getting great medical insurance.”
Suspicion fills her brown eyes. She doesn’t look convinced. Oh, well, it’ll have to do for now.
“I’ve gotta go,” I say, leaning in to kiss her cheek while I move past her and out the door. “Love you. We need food.”
“I’ll try to go food shopping if I feel up to it,” she throws over her shoulder.
If she feels up to it…if only she would feel up to seeing a doctor would be even better.
On that note, I head for the ferry. Fingers crossed I have a job waiting for me in the city.
Manhattan is considered another world for those of us who were raised in the Burroughs. Think of it as The Capital city in The Hunger Games––everyone wants to live there but very few are entitled to.
Today, it’s not so glamorous, however. The subway may as well be a sauna. Or, as I like to think of it, the devil’s urinal. With the heat and humidity at record highs, the smell of piss is strong today.