minimum wage would be good right now.
She pointed a purple nail at him. “But if you’re late or you miss a shift, you’re out of here. I have a small staff and I can’t afford no-shows.”
“I promise not to flake.”
He filled out the form, and then he and Tabby discussed schedules. He wanted to keep the deli job, but they were able to work around that. She told him he could begin Monday.
Maybe he didn’t quite have a song in his heart when he left Gifted—maybe just a ringtone—but he certainly felt less hopeless. He had a paying gig close to home, so no trauma if his car was being an asshole. And this time, he vowed he wouldn’t fuck it up.
He still had time before his evening shift at the deli, but he felt too lazy to walk back to his apartment. Besides, if he went there, he’d be in danger of being seduced by a nap and not waking up on time. That had happened before. So he strolled awhile longer, peering at window displays of stuff he couldn’t afford. Several years earlier he’d maxed out three credit cards buying unnecessary crap. Sam had bailed him out that time too, but only with the proviso that Austin cut up the plastic. Although Austin had chafed over it at the time, now he was thankful. Being a grown-up would suck even worse if he was buried in debt.
But thoughts of Sam reminded him that he had a task to do. He pulled out his phone and called his father, who hated to text.
“What’s up?” Sam asked. He sounded a little wary, which wasn’t fair. Okay, maybe it was fair.
“I thought you should be the first to know I’m now gainfully employed.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. Full-time, not slave wages, close to home. So I can’t come in to the factory anymore. But when I get a little ahead on the bills, I’ll pay you back.” Austin leaned against the exterior wall of an ice cream place and tried to decide whether he was hungry.
“You don’t have to pay me back, Ozzy. Just… I’m glad you found a job so quickly.” He didn’t actually warn Austin not to screw up again, but Austin could read his father’s thoughts even from across town. Who needed texting when you had intrafamily ESP?
“I’m glad too. And this place is going to work out. It’s just up the street from Rosenberg’s.”
“Sounds perfect.”
It was. Except there was something niggling at Austin’s brain, some tiny little voice telling him he should feel less contented with his new situation. Shut up , he wanted to tell the voice. It’s not like I’m qualified to do anything better. But the voice only lifted its eyebrow at him—and how the hell could an inner voice lift an eyebrow?—indicating that Austin was full of shit. The desire for a more prestigious or better-paying job was not the problem here.
“There is no problem,” Austin said. Out loud, into his phone, which probably confused the hell out of Sam.
But Sam must have been used to Austin’s odd outbursts, because he ignored this one. “Best of luck with it, son.”
“Thanks, Dad. Say hello to Bill for me.”
After they disconnected, Austin decided he wasn’t in the mood for ice cream after all. Instead, he walked a couple of blocks to the indie coffeehouse with the funky art on the walls and the cute hipster baristas. He nursed a large iced coffee, watched the pedestrians wander by outside the window, and pretended everything was just peachy.
W ORKING AT Gifted turned out to be fun. He liked working for Tabby, and his coworkers were nice. Most shoppers were in a good mood in a store like that and very few came in with obnoxiously specific desires, so pleasing the customers was easy. The traffic was heavy enough that he kept busy, which meant the days went by quickly. And he got paid to play with toys, which was always a plus.
One of the waitresses at Rosenberg’s was stricken with appendicitis on Wednesday, and when Gopal called to offer him extra shifts, Austin couldn’t say no. By the time he dragged himself home each night, all he
She pointed a purple nail at him. “But if you’re late or you miss a shift, you’re out of here. I have a small staff and I can’t afford no-shows.”
“I promise not to flake.”
He filled out the form, and then he and Tabby discussed schedules. He wanted to keep the deli job, but they were able to work around that. She told him he could begin Monday.
Maybe he didn’t quite have a song in his heart when he left Gifted—maybe just a ringtone—but he certainly felt less hopeless. He had a paying gig close to home, so no trauma if his car was being an asshole. And this time, he vowed he wouldn’t fuck it up.
He still had time before his evening shift at the deli, but he felt too lazy to walk back to his apartment. Besides, if he went there, he’d be in danger of being seduced by a nap and not waking up on time. That had happened before. So he strolled awhile longer, peering at window displays of stuff he couldn’t afford. Several years earlier he’d maxed out three credit cards buying unnecessary crap. Sam had bailed him out that time too, but only with the proviso that Austin cut up the plastic. Although Austin had chafed over it at the time, now he was thankful. Being a grown-up would suck even worse if he was buried in debt.
But thoughts of Sam reminded him that he had a task to do. He pulled out his phone and called his father, who hated to text.
“What’s up?” Sam asked. He sounded a little wary, which wasn’t fair. Okay, maybe it was fair.
“I thought you should be the first to know I’m now gainfully employed.”
“Oh?”
“Yep. Full-time, not slave wages, close to home. So I can’t come in to the factory anymore. But when I get a little ahead on the bills, I’ll pay you back.” Austin leaned against the exterior wall of an ice cream place and tried to decide whether he was hungry.
“You don’t have to pay me back, Ozzy. Just… I’m glad you found a job so quickly.” He didn’t actually warn Austin not to screw up again, but Austin could read his father’s thoughts even from across town. Who needed texting when you had intrafamily ESP?
“I’m glad too. And this place is going to work out. It’s just up the street from Rosenberg’s.”
“Sounds perfect.”
It was. Except there was something niggling at Austin’s brain, some tiny little voice telling him he should feel less contented with his new situation. Shut up , he wanted to tell the voice. It’s not like I’m qualified to do anything better. But the voice only lifted its eyebrow at him—and how the hell could an inner voice lift an eyebrow?—indicating that Austin was full of shit. The desire for a more prestigious or better-paying job was not the problem here.
“There is no problem,” Austin said. Out loud, into his phone, which probably confused the hell out of Sam.
But Sam must have been used to Austin’s odd outbursts, because he ignored this one. “Best of luck with it, son.”
“Thanks, Dad. Say hello to Bill for me.”
After they disconnected, Austin decided he wasn’t in the mood for ice cream after all. Instead, he walked a couple of blocks to the indie coffeehouse with the funky art on the walls and the cute hipster baristas. He nursed a large iced coffee, watched the pedestrians wander by outside the window, and pretended everything was just peachy.
W ORKING AT Gifted turned out to be fun. He liked working for Tabby, and his coworkers were nice. Most shoppers were in a good mood in a store like that and very few came in with obnoxiously specific desires, so pleasing the customers was easy. The traffic was heavy enough that he kept busy, which meant the days went by quickly. And he got paid to play with toys, which was always a plus.
One of the waitresses at Rosenberg’s was stricken with appendicitis on Wednesday, and when Gopal called to offer him extra shifts, Austin couldn’t say no. By the time he dragged himself home each night, all he
Similar Books
