Chase: That’s probably for the best. Hey, client just showed up. Gotta run. Just wanted to hear your voice.
Me: Uh, Chase, this is a textchain.
Chase: Fine. I wanted to see your words.
Me: Lawyers are weird.
Chase: Can’t argue that. See you soon.
I smiled and set my phone down.
Tomorrow. I’d find someone tomorrow. Someone competent. Someone reliable. Someone whose entire resume wasn’t written in neon green Comic Sans.
How hard could it be?
Chapter 22
Finn
The bar was quiet—the calm before the storm. Mark was setting up for the evening rush, restocking beer coolers and checking inventory. From the kitchen, I could hear the familiar sounds of chopping and sizzling that meant Rod and Carlos were already deep into their prep.
“You’re early,” Mark said without looking up from the wine cooler he was organizing.
“I’m prepared.”
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m not—” I stopped. “Okay, maybe I’m a little nervous.”
“About the interviews or about texting Chase seventeen times since you woke up?”
I felt my face heat. “I haven’t texted him seventeen times.”
“You’re right. Sorry.” Mark pulled out his phone and scrolled. “It was nineteen. I counted.”
“How do you—”
“You get this look every time your phone buzzes, like someone just told you they were bringing you free tacos.” He grinned. “You’ve got text neck, Finn. It’s tragic.”
“Text neck isn’t a thing—”
“It’s absolutely a thing. You’re going to need physical therapy by the time you go on this date.”
“I hate you.”
“No, you love me and my ability to see through your bullshit.” Mark closed the cooler and leaned against the bar. “So. Four interviews. You ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be to meet more professional spring breakers.”
“At least today they have to show up in person. It’s harder to fake credentials face-to-face.”
“We hope.”
The door opened, and a woman walked in. She looked to be in her early thirties, was dressed professionally, and carried a portfolio. Morgan Hayes was right on time.
“Here we go,” I muttered.
“Good luck,” Mark said. “Try not to panic-hire the first person who walks through the door.”
