“Good, good.” He removed his hand and snapped his fingers at the sofa. “You can sit there for now. Don’t touch anything that doesn’t belong to you.”
“Understood,” I said as a new reflex.
He smiled. “You’re getting it.”
I sat on the hard green-leather sofa, my hands on my lap and my messenger bag upright beside me, scared it would fall over and everything inside it would fall out. I stayed quiet, and I tried not to look at anything for too long, but it was impossible. My eyes needed some stimulus, especially right now while it felt like I was being tested. I needed this job despite all the tests. I would pass them. I had to pass them.
“You’re gonna be in charge of organizing invoices,” he eventually said. “Sit over there.” He directed me with just a glance to the coffee table. “I read your resume. You went to college for business administration.”
I nodded, perking up as I stood, and as I did, the contents of my bag spilled. Like the nightmare I’d imagined, my sweet small plush panda, Pud, fell out and rolled right over to Santo’s desk. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
He smirked. “I hope that’s not some secret listening device,” he said, dipping into a squat almost to grab it. He squeezed it to within an inch of its plush life. “Mhm, you know,in this line of work—construction work—it’s important we don’t let our competitors know what we’re quoting.”
I nodded. “I’m really sorry. It’s um—it’s my good luck charm.”
Santo stared at Pud, looking into his black stud eyes. “What has it helped you with?”
“Getting this job,” I said with a shrug. “It also helped me with some of my exams. I mean, I graduated, so that’s a start.” I snorted a laugh, then quieted myself, seeing he wasn’t laughing with me. “I’m sorry, again. I really didn’t think this was all going to happen so soon.”
He placed it on his desk, right by the closest of all three monitors. “I guess I’ll have to see if this luck transfers,” he said. “Now, I have a job for you.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. It came naturally. I wanted him to know I meant business when it came to this job. I didn’t want him to think I was going to be one of the high turnover employees I’d heard about, even before Camille told me. I knew this was a demanding gig, and that’s why the pay was higher than a lot of other jobs in the same business admin assistant role.
“You’re getting the hang of it,” he said, grabbing a stack of papers from his desk. “Organize these invoices by date. Cross-reference with the payment schedules. I want them done quickly. If you can’t manage it, please let me know. I’m not here to waste time.”
“Of course, sir,” I continued. “I’m not going to let you down.”
I knew what this job was, and I was going to do it to the best of my ability. I looked at Pud on his desk as I sat in one of the equally hard armchairs with the messy stack of paperwork on the glass table in front of me.
“After that, I need a coffee,” he said. “So, quick.” He snapped his fingers and I—almost in a trance—went to work on the papers.
I noticed an odd pattern almost immediately. All the invoices were for large amounts. They were all made out to different items—fancy marbles, stone, woods—I knew those types of things existed, but according to the transaction sheets I was matching them to, those charges were inflated by a lot. After stapling all the matching documents together, I finally realized the rumors were true. This place... it was something darker. It was a place I was going to need all my teddies around me to survive.
Santo came over to me, Pud in hand. He placed him on the glass table and looked me over again. “Good work,” he said. “You look like you found something interesting.”
“I was just—”
He gestured with a finger in the air. “You’ll understand eventually. Don’t ask questions you’re not ready for.”
“Okay,” I let out softly, a whimper.
“Stand,” he said, and I watched as he smirked at me when I did. “You can’t wear this.” He placed a hand on my shirt. “It’s ill-fitting. And it washes you out. What are you? Hispanic?”
I nodded. “Yes, sir. But I—”
Santo snapped his fingers again. “Spit it out.”
“My father’s from Mexico, but I’ve only met him once or twice. I—I can speak a little Spanish, but I think I refused to learn because of how much I hated him. My mom is American, white, Irish I think. Maybe Scottish.”
There was a visceral reaction to that as his lips grew taut to reveal his teeth. “Irish,” he grumbled. “I hope for your safety, you’re not part of the Morrell family.”
Immediately, I shook my head. “No, I—I don’t even know who that is.”
He laughed and lifted hand to my face, then he rubbed my cheek and gave it a light pat. “Good,” he said. “They’re a rivalcompany, so it’s best to avoid them where possible. Alongside the Cordello family. Now, your clothes.” His hand stroked down my neck, reaching my shoulder where he plucked at the shirt. “It’s practically drowning you. No, I can’t have that. You’re probably a small; I’ll get you something.”
“Okay,” I said, trying my best to always respond to him. “You don’t have to get me anything. I’ll buy a new shirt. I promise.”
Leaving my side, he walked to a shelf and opened it with a push, and it swiveled to reveal a closet full of shirts. Santo was there for minutes, flicking through the shirts until he came back to me with a deep blue one. It smelled sweet. “There,” he said. “Change.”
