tonight. If you don’t think you will, I’m
sure Erika can give you something for that as well.”
I want to tell him to come upstairs
and put me to sleep, but I’m pretty sure Erika would kick my ass. She looks
like she could, despite her stature.
“Goodnight,” Erika chimes in.
“Once that potion wears off, you’ll be sleepy anyway.”
“And when will it wear off?” I ask
her as I step out of the car. “Am I in danger of my mother telling me to clean
the house and actually listening to her or something?”
Erika laughs as I shut the door and
Ash opens his window. “Good night, Miss Holt,” he tells me. “I hope you wake
up tomorrow and find a job and some friends and money to go along with it.” He
turns his headlights back on and backs out of the driveway. I stand shivering
without my jacket, watching him take off and wish I was going with him instead
of returning to my mother’s house.
When I walk inside, my mother is
standing in the foyer, looking livid. “Who dropped you off?” she asks me.
“What happened to Gabriel Locke?”
“I got a ride home,” I tell her.
“It’s a long story.”
Chapter 6
Monday morning and I’m driving in
Betsey, dressed in a dark brown pants suit and coral silk blouse in hopes of
finding a job. I have the brilliant idea to go straight to Blackwater Memorial
Hospital and see if my expertise in medical billing and coding will get me
anywhere. I have no idea if there are any actual job openings, but the only
marketable skills I possess are health care billing related. The hospital
seems like a good place to start, otherwise I’ll have to go get a retail job or
something. I hate retail jobs. The last time I worked retail was with my
friend Eleanor at a store called “Young At Heart” that sold lingerie to old
ladies. Fitting an eighty six year old woman for a bra is a great weight loss
method. You’ll never want to eat again.
I find a spot in the visitor’s
parking lot, then grab my portfolio with my resume and start to walk toward the
entrance, unsteady on my one inch heels. Whatever Erika gave me last night
knocked me out cold, and I’m still feeling the effects. I feel confident
enough that I can slur my way through an interview, should one come from this
venture. The air is brisk and my lips feel chapped by the time I walk through
the sliding glass doors and up to the guard at the front desk. He’s an older
man with a droopy white moustache and mismatched reddish hair. “Excuse, me,
can you please direct me to human resources?” I ask him.
“Sure can,” he says. “Down that
hallway and it’s the last door on your left.”
I thank him and head in that direction.
Perhaps this will be easier than I thought. I expected him to ask whether I
have an appointment, but I just get waved right through.
In heels, the hallway goes on
forever and ever and ever. When I walk in through human resources, my heart
sinks when I see about twelve people waiting and filling out applications.
They probably have appointments.
“May I help you?” the receptionist
asks. “Can you please sign in?”
“I’m actually here to inquire about
any open positions,” I tell her, signing my name and the time on the sheet. “I
checked online and in the newspaper but Blackwater Memorial doesn’t seem to
post any jobs.”
“We post them when we have them,”
the receptionist replies cheerily. She’s one of those people who delivers
sarcasm in the same tone that she would say “happy birthday!” Her tight red
shirt is low cut and practically painted on, and her hair is so bleached that
it could probably walk off her head if it wanted to. I stand uncomfortably
wondering if I’m supposed to turn around and walk out at this point or stare
her down until a job magically appears. “But here,” she blurts out suddenly,
as if my stare has broken her willpower. “Fill out this application and we’ll
see
sure Erika can give you something for that as well.”
I want to tell him to come upstairs
and put me to sleep, but I’m pretty sure Erika would kick my ass. She looks
like she could, despite her stature.
“Goodnight,” Erika chimes in.
“Once that potion wears off, you’ll be sleepy anyway.”
“And when will it wear off?” I ask
her as I step out of the car. “Am I in danger of my mother telling me to clean
the house and actually listening to her or something?”
Erika laughs as I shut the door and
Ash opens his window. “Good night, Miss Holt,” he tells me. “I hope you wake
up tomorrow and find a job and some friends and money to go along with it.” He
turns his headlights back on and backs out of the driveway. I stand shivering
without my jacket, watching him take off and wish I was going with him instead
of returning to my mother’s house.
When I walk inside, my mother is
standing in the foyer, looking livid. “Who dropped you off?” she asks me.
“What happened to Gabriel Locke?”
“I got a ride home,” I tell her.
“It’s a long story.”
Chapter 6
Monday morning and I’m driving in
Betsey, dressed in a dark brown pants suit and coral silk blouse in hopes of
finding a job. I have the brilliant idea to go straight to Blackwater Memorial
Hospital and see if my expertise in medical billing and coding will get me
anywhere. I have no idea if there are any actual job openings, but the only
marketable skills I possess are health care billing related. The hospital
seems like a good place to start, otherwise I’ll have to go get a retail job or
something. I hate retail jobs. The last time I worked retail was with my
friend Eleanor at a store called “Young At Heart” that sold lingerie to old
ladies. Fitting an eighty six year old woman for a bra is a great weight loss
method. You’ll never want to eat again.
I find a spot in the visitor’s
parking lot, then grab my portfolio with my resume and start to walk toward the
entrance, unsteady on my one inch heels. Whatever Erika gave me last night
knocked me out cold, and I’m still feeling the effects. I feel confident
enough that I can slur my way through an interview, should one come from this
venture. The air is brisk and my lips feel chapped by the time I walk through
the sliding glass doors and up to the guard at the front desk. He’s an older
man with a droopy white moustache and mismatched reddish hair. “Excuse, me,
can you please direct me to human resources?” I ask him.
“Sure can,” he says. “Down that
hallway and it’s the last door on your left.”
I thank him and head in that direction.
Perhaps this will be easier than I thought. I expected him to ask whether I
have an appointment, but I just get waved right through.
In heels, the hallway goes on
forever and ever and ever. When I walk in through human resources, my heart
sinks when I see about twelve people waiting and filling out applications.
They probably have appointments.
“May I help you?” the receptionist
asks. “Can you please sign in?”
“I’m actually here to inquire about
any open positions,” I tell her, signing my name and the time on the sheet. “I
checked online and in the newspaper but Blackwater Memorial doesn’t seem to
post any jobs.”
“We post them when we have them,”
the receptionist replies cheerily. She’s one of those people who delivers
sarcasm in the same tone that she would say “happy birthday!” Her tight red
shirt is low cut and practically painted on, and her hair is so bleached that
it could probably walk off her head if it wanted to. I stand uncomfortably
wondering if I’m supposed to turn around and walk out at this point or stare
her down until a job magically appears. “But here,” she blurts out suddenly,
as if my stare has broken her willpower. “Fill out this application and we’ll
see
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