“Do you work on commission?” the customer asked me.
“No,” I said. He was working my last nerve, though. I popped my headphones over my ears without flipping them on, then sat in the chair to focus on ‘work.’
Ten seconds later, he left with his stuff, and Ash leaned on the desk. “Well, that was horrible,” she said.
“Yes.” The customer and the drone crash. I sighed and lifted my hat long enough to swipe some flyaway hairs from my forehead before sealing it over my crown again. “What’s the window made of? Tempered glass?”
She nodded. “Steel-reinforced.” Her lips rolled inward. “Expensive.”
Of course it was. I pushed up my glasses. “Well, I may be able to buff out the scratch. If not, the pane is ruined anyway. Of course, we could always go through insurance instead.”
She wrinkled her nose. “You think you can fix it?”
“I…might.” I had tools at home. “Tomorrow. Presuming my schedule hasn’t changed.”
She tapped the heels of her loafers against the cabinet. “I’ll think about it.”
I clutched the mouse, my insides grinding like ill-fitted gears when she strolled to the man conducting the bubble show.
Fuck. Did my fate depend onhisopinion? The man solved problems with water guns and turkey plushies. But he was nice, so maybe he’d vouch for me. I scooted as close as I could to the open doors to eavesdrop without them noticing me.
“Hey, Sal,” she called.
“Hey. Want a little bubbly?” He pursed his lips and fired a bunch of bubbles at her.
Laughing, she swiped at them. Then, she got close. Talking low. He tilted his ear to her lips, his brow flattening in concentration.
He looked at the wall and shook his head.
No? He didn’t think I could do it? I balled my fists on the desk.
He pulled back and nodded, then he said something and gestured to the store. Why hadn’t I learned to read lips?
They both glanced at me. I stiffened, then flung myself back in my seat. Shit. I had to at least pretend I was fixing something. A worthwhile employee. Might as well look up how to actually work with temperedglass. Whoever cleaned the robotics battle arenas would know, but I had no desire to find those organizers for their contact information.
No. For this one, I was on my own. The internet would provide.
A few minutes later, Ash strode up to the tech desk. “Email me your plan. I want to run it by housekeeping and make sure it’s nontoxic before I give the go-ahead.”
“Sure. I can send it tomorrow…after my shift.” I peeked up at her without turning my head. I would still have a shift, right?
“Yeah. Sounds good. You can take your actual break now, if you want.” She tapped the ledge twice, then patrolled the center console.
My shoulders sagged with relief. I lived to tech another day. I clasped my wrist over my head and stretched back until something popped into place.
I could do this.
I didn’t have to. But I could. I could function.
My brother sent a thumbs up emoji.
Good. Having him around meant I wouldn’t have to wear headphones to ward off nosey weirdos.
I retrieved my retro arcade game lunchbox, then popped my instant ramen in the microwave and scoped out an empty table by the exit. Easy to get out. Not as easy to see. This place was a little pathetic though. Vinyl booths. Old tile floors. A crappy, loud TV played daytime court shows. A lady ate fries without tearing her gaze off the screen.
Why didn’t they update anything here? True Tech had better lighting, and we didn’t even have access to windows. Well, not ones that led outside anyway. I researched the glass as I made my way to that table.
