Beg Me-Sold to My Dad's Boss

“Got it!” I called back, going into my room to take the call. “Hello?” I said breathlessly into the receiver. My heartbeat accelerated uncontrollably. Maybe it was Chris, maybe he was calling to check up on me, maybe he missed me already and wanted to hear my voice.

But reality dropped like a ton of bricks.

“Hi honey!” came my mom’s cheery voice. “How are you? How’s the job going? Are you ready for school?”

Oh right, my parents thought I’d been on campus this entire time working at Mo’s, they had no idea of what I’d been up to in the last ten days. Right. My heart stopped its thudding, coming almost to a standstill instead.

“Things are good,” I lied with a small, sad twist to my lips. “Things are good.” Hopefully my parents would never know about what happened, that my secret would be hidden forever.

“Oh good,” trilled Brenda. “And are you ready for school to start? When does it start again, baby?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” I breathed into the phone, suddenly feeling extremely tired. “Listen Ma, I gotta get to work, and then I need to go to the bookstore, then the laundromat, there’s a ton of errands I have to run.”

“Oh sure, sure,” my mom gushed. “Your dad and I, we just wanted to check in, we hadn’t talked to you since you left here last week. We’ll be up for parents’ weekend, see you then?”

I groaned internally. Of course my parents were going to visit in two weeks’ time, they never missed stuff like parents’ weekend because I was the living manifestation of their dreams, a student at a four-year college. And I desperately wanted to avoid them, I wanted to mope and be alone instead, nurse my heart in privacy, but there was no deterring Jim and Brenda.

So I gave in.

“Sure Mom,” I said listlessly. “Sure, no problem. I’ll see you then.”

But it was then that Brenda threw me for a loop.

“And Lindy,” she added, almost breathless now with excitement. “We’re going to celebrate that weekend because you know what? Daddy just got a promotion at work! Can you believe it? He’s worked for Chris Jones for years now and never gotten a promotion, but the boss just told him today, Daddy’s going to be a VP in the company starting next week!”

My mouth dropped open, my fingers almost losing hold of the receiver. I knew that my ten days with Mr. Jones had guaranteed my dad a couple more months, he wasn’t going to be let go right away. But my dad was still going to be fired, it was just a question of when.

So this was a complete turnabout and I was cautious. Chris had never promised this, so I asked gently.

“Mom, are you sure? I mean, I thought Dad was having a hard time at United Electric.”

She just squealed again.

“Of course I’m sure! Chris Jones told Daddy himself, called him into his office today and made it official with a letter and a raise. Can you believe it?” she asked excitedly. “Daddy made so little before and Mr. Jones tripled his salary just like that! I had no idea being an accountant could be so lucrative, but you know, Daddy’s always worked so hard …”

Her voice babbled on and on but I was only listening with one ear. Chris had called my dad into his office, and personally given him a promotion, throwing in a raise to boot? I could hardly believe it, hardly believe the windfall that my family had just received. And it’d make a huge difference for sure, because now Brenda was babbling on about my job.

“Honey, you won’t have to work at Little Mo’s anymore, you can quit your job. With Daddy’s new salary we’ll be safe, you can concentrate on school and getting good grades. Didn’t you want to be an architect baby? You were always so good with building blocks, always building little houses and barns, even tepees and igloos when you were small.”

I was silent, motionless. I couldn’t believe what was happening, that Mr. Jones had done all this, that my family’s finances had turned on a dime, all because of the big man’s generosity, his appreciation for my ten day stay. And that brought me back to reality with a jolt. Because this wasn’t generosity, this wasn’t a gift because Chris Jones was a good man. This was payment for my services, we’d negotiated a bargain and I’d exceeded expectations, so the big man was rewarding me for my excellent work.

And knowing that only made the bottom drop out of my stomach, made me miserable, a nauseous feeling rolling over me. Because I was nothing but an employee, I’d performed well and deserved to be compensated, to see the fruit of my labor. Sadly, I was nothing more than a minion to Christopher Jones, one who slept in his bed, but a paid employee nonetheless. And the knowledge made my head hurt, another wave of nausea overtaking me.