Locked In Silence (Pelican Bay 1)

There was a hint of something besides disappointment in his eyes when he said that last part, but he didn’t expound on the comment, so I left it alone.

After the tour, he led me to his office. My nerves began to kick in, because despite his openness on the tour, there was a certain distance he’d kept between us. I knew it was likely just me overreacting, since it was admittedly hard to gauge the reactions of someone who couldn’t talk, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite offering me the job, he wasn’t happy to have me around.

I was half-tempted to tell him the feeling was mutual, since I hadn’t been able to escape the humiliation I’d been feeling ever since I’d driven away from the center the day before. By the time I’d arrived home, my pride had insisted at least ten times that I turn around and return to the center to tell Dallas I couldn’t accept the job.

I’d even composed an email that I’d planned to send to him via his website, but every time I’d tried to hit the send button, my eyes had fallen on the pile of unpaid bills sitting on my nightstand. When I’d told my mother this morning that I’d finally found a job, she’d told me that was nice to hear, and then she’d told me I needed to be home by three to watch my father so she could go with Edith to the hairdresser’s.

I’d left the house without saying anything.

She’d figure it out soon enough at three. At least she’d have more fodder to share with Edith about her good-for-nothing, ungrateful, Hollywood-crazed son.

A light tapping sound had me dragging my eyes from where I’d been staring at a wall full of framed photos of various animals. I recognized Gentry in one of them.

I turned my attention to Dallas who’d been rifling through his desk for the paperwork I needed to fill out.

I still couldn’t believe the guy I’d been crushing on for two long, miserable years (and maybe still a little now) was my boss. All the work I’d done to escape the shame and humiliation I ever felt around Dallas Kent and his friends, and none of it had made a difference.

I was right back where I started.

Only, I wouldn’t be able to pretend to ignore the man when he came to the realization that he’d made a terrible mistake in hiring me. Not only did I know nothing about animals, I had next to no experience doing any kind of manual labor.

God, this was so very, very bad.

I ignored the urge to confess to Dallas that I was a fraud and took the paper he handed me. I scanned it and realized it was a pay period schedule. My eyes automatically fell to the bottom of the page where the hourly rate was listed.

And barely managed not to cry.

It was too much.

Way too much.

I should have been relieved to know I’d be making so much more than minimum wage, but all I felt was embarrassment. There was no way in hell a position cleaning up after and feeding animals paid so much.

I could feel my skin heating as I handed the paper back across the desk. “It’s too much,” I said. I hated that my voice carried notes of both humiliation and anger in it.

Dallas held up his hand and shook his head.

I wanted to laugh at the irony of it all. The salary was pittance compared to what I’d been making just a few short months ago as the First Chair violinist in the San Francisco Orchestra. I’d even made considerably more my first year after finishing Juilliard. But if I’d learned anything over the last two weeks of job hunting, it was that being able to play Bach’s Chaconne from Partita in d minor to a roomful of San Francisco’s elite wasn’t worth the sheet music the notes were written on in a town like Pelican Bay. And it sure as hell wouldn’t come in handy when I was cleaning up dog shit or scooping litter boxes.

“It’s too much,” I repeated softly, though I didn’t try to hand the paper back to Dallas again. I swallowed around the lump in my throat and tried to count down the minutes it would take for all this to be over. At least once I was out there cleaning up shit or filling water bowls or whatever, the animals wouldn’t pass judgement on me.

When Dallas tapped his fingers on the desk again, I forced my eyes up because that was my job now. I expected him to hand me the forms I needed to complete, but instead he was studying me like a bug under a magnifying glass. I forced myself not to look away, though it was really fucking hard. It wasn’t until I straightened my spine in some kind of silent act of defiance that I saw Dallas’s mouth twitch into something that almost looked like a smile.