I would be fine as long as Jackson didn't approach me in the same way again. How I was going to feel when I had to touch him while working on him was something else entirely. I’d cross that proverbial bridge when I came to it, though, which if Lance wanted me to start right away, would be upon me soon enough.
He fell into step beside me and walked me to my car, neither of us saying a word until I stopped next to the driver’s side.
“Thank you for the opportunity. Despite today, I’m looking forward to being a part of the team. Speaking of, what is your role?”
“I’m Jackson’s man of reason.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’m the one who talks him down when need be. The one who’s been by his side since the beginning, directing him when he won’t listen to anyone else.”
“Have you known him for a long time?”
“Since he was fifteen. Jackson and I come from similar backgrounds. The first time I saw him fight, I knew he was special.”
Even though my curiosity was piqued, I didn’t press him to elaborate, doubting he’d spill secrets to a stranger.
I shifted from one foot to the other, unsure of how to end our conversation. This was by far the oddest interview I’d ever been on, but as long as he hired me, I wouldn’t complain.
“I’m assuming I have the job?” I tentatively asked.
He’d indicated as much, but I needed clarification before I drove away.
“Yes, if you want it. You’re available to start immediately, correct?”
“Yes.”
A rush of relief washed over me, but the emotion soon battled with worry. Would I have another unpleasant encounter with Jackson? Would I be able to do the proper job required? Would this all end before it even started, leaving me back at square one?
“Great. Seeing as how it’s Friday, I’ll give you tomorrow to prepare. Come by Sunday night around six and I’ll show you the apartment. We’ll need you up and ready to go at seven the next morning.”
“I’ll see you on Sunday.” I gave him my hand in parting. “Thank you.”
“Thankyou. I think you’re exactly what he needs.”
Lance walked away as his comment settled over me, and I couldn’t shake the feeling his words held another meaning altogether.
3
As I stepped onto the porch of my childhood home, the one I was now temporarily sharing with my dad and sister, I couldn’t stop replaying every detail of my interview. I’d like to think that if I’d known beforehand that my future client would greet me in the nude, thinking I was there for sex, I wouldn’t have even bothered to show up. But that was the first interview I’d been to in months, and the harsh reality was, I had no other options left. I was thankful Lance had hired me, but deep down, I wondered if I would regret my decision.
“Just make the best of it,” I mumbled as I opened the front door and stepped inside, leaving the day’s events behind me. The aroma of freshly baked cake filled the air, mingling with the sweet scent of vanilla frosting.
From the entrance I could see straight into the kitchen, and there on the island was a lit birthday cake. My dad and Abby greeted me with glowing smiles as I walked toward them, our grins mirror images.
“Happy birthday!” they shouted, the numbers two and nine flaming brightly on top.
Another year had passed, and sadly, I was still no closer to the dream I’d had for myself. I’d wanted it all: a satisfying career and a family, but I would’ve settled for at least one of them. But here I was, childless, in the middle of a divorce, and starting all over again with a job I was unsure of.
“Make a wish,” Abby said, pointing toward the cake.
As I blew out the candles, I whispered a silent prayer, hoping that the universe would conspire to make my wish of finding some meaning for my life come true.
Our dad plucked the two wax numbers from the cake and tossed them on the counter, licking icing from his finger.
The man was fifty-eight years old and had a full head of chocolate-colored strands. He didn’t have a strand of gray hair. I suspected he colored his hair, but never found any evidence to support my assumption.
“How did your second interview go?” he asked.
