Page 117 of Wanted Beta

Beth is quick to cross her arms under her chest when I let go of her hand to unlock the office door. I probably shouldn’t be acting like I’m interested in her while she’s working, at least until it feels like she’s comfortable enough to be told the truth about what she means to us.

I don’t want to apologize for it, but I’ll try harder to ignore the instinct to touch her.

“We probably don’t need to do anything with the office,” I tell her. “It’s just meant as a place to lock the cash away at night.”

“It wouldn’t be a priority if it made the list. Your front of house is where most of the work is needed to be honest. If you wanted to save money, you could honestly just replace that glass and get a real sign for above the door. Something that’s easy to read and identify this as an Italian Restaurant.”

There she goes again, trying to talk herself out of a job.

“Do you want to be a Librarian?” I ask, catching her off guard.

She blinks at me. “Uh … I … Not really.”

“Would you rather be in business for yourself?”

“It’s not practical, or secure, or …”

“But is it what you want?” I ask, trying to figure out why she’s at college on a course she’s not into, to end up with a job that doesn’t sound like it would suit her strengths.

“Maybe,” she finally admits, not quite looking me in the eye. “I don’t know. It’s what I used to want, at least. Having my own business. Working hard so I could build something that’s mine. Something no one else could take away from me.”

“So, what changed?” I open the office door and switch on the lights while I wait for her answer.

She doesn’t respond immediately, and when she does it’s reluctant.

“I realized it was risky, I guess.” She shrugs, and I know it’s not the full story.

“And your backup choice was Librarian?”

She laughs. “No. I just wanted something that would be an easy pass and going by my skillset that was the career path that lined up.”

“Easy can be boring.”

“It can be,” she admits.

That might be as far as she’s willing to go with this conversation.

There’s at least one thing I can do to make her see it could be worth thinking about her options.

I hold the door open, and she steps into the tiny office.

It’s more like a closet with a desk and chair pushed against one wall, and a safe screwed into the floor in the corner. There’s an old 14” TV peeking out of a box on the desk, with a set of old rusted over-ear headphones tangled up with the aerial. That should have been taken out to the trash with the rest of the old owner’s junk that he left lying around, but because I would have had to walk all the way through the restaurant and kitchen with it, I kept saying I’d do it later.

Beth squishes herself against the wall as I step inside and let the door close.

“You okay?” I ask, getting a vaguely weird vibe from her.

She nods slowly. “It’s just … warm in here.”

She starts to scratch at her sweater sleeves.

I sink to my knees and take my keys out of my pocket.

The sooner I get her check cut, the sooner we can leave this tiny room.

It only takes a minute to grab the check book, and another to pick a pen up from the desk and write out the check. I looked up consultant fees last night to make sure I could give her an appropriate amount of compensation for her time. Then, I added on a bit extra, because she’s our mate and I want her to have everything she needs.

“Full name?” I ask, glancing up at her.

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