Page 4 of Side Hustle
I shook my head from side to side slowly, completely stunned. Thanks to my nemesis, Hazel, I’d finally found the push I needed to move my life in a positive direction.
“Not a party, Hazel. We found gold.”
2
Hazel
“Do you need another go at it, honey?” Mrs. Trudowski’s thin voice broke through my thoughts, making me nearly jump out of my skin.
She had her arm over her head, her liver-spotted hand holding the floral material away from her armpit to give me access. The poor dear couldn’t see well enough to shave anymore. Thankfully, there was only one lonely hair growing out of her armpit. I’d seen some bushes when it came to sniffing a few of the men. I wasn’t naming names—ahem, Clyde the tow truck driver—but some of the guys needed to YouTube manscaping videos in this town.
You see, I’d been blessed with a golden sniffer. Where some children have talents in sports, cooking, or memorizing facts, I excelled when it came to my nose. I could smell something—or someone—from a mile away. I could discern the smell of burnt toast from burnt roast. If I’d been born a German shepherd, I would have been hired by the police to find all the secret stashes of drugs. As it was, I’d finally found my calling as a human.
Professional sniffer at the Fragrance & Aroma Reformulation Testing facility.
F.A.R.T.
Yup. I sniffed armpits for a deodorant company looking to make a batch of products as diverse in scents as the Bath & Body Works candle display. The thing no one considered, outside of scientists and sniffers like me, was that scents changed when applied to people’s skin. Their unique pheromones, skin bacteria, and even the foods they ate changed the overriding scent, making each scent unique to the person. My job was to make sure that each new scent created by the scientists would actually smell similar no matter whose skin it was applied to.
“No, I’m good, Mrs. Trudowski.” I gave her a smile and checked off the box on my clipboard. That pumpkin spice latte deodorant was consistent, but a little too much emphasis on the spice for my taste.
She lowered her frail arm and patted me on the shoulder with a grin. “Such a dear.”
She shuffled off in her black-red-and-white bowling shoes, and I tried to get my thoughts back on my job. I mean, I was only sniffing for two hours. If I couldn’t handle a two-hour shift, was I even an adult? True fact: your sniffing capabilities diminish significantly after two hours of work. Even sniffing the coffee beans between armpits wouldn’t work to clear my palate after a couple hours. Hence, the two-hour shifts.
And also hence, the multiple side hustles to keep food on the table. Granny kept a roof over my head, for which I was eternally grateful, but I paid the rest of our bills. And good Lord did we go through a lot of cat food with Granny’s National Cat Protection Society. She provided a home for all the retired cats that no one wanted anymore, which was quite admirable. Unfortunately, we found out the hard way that even old cats can still get pregnant, which only padded our numbers and made for more mouths to feed. I tried to separate the boy and girl cats a few years back, but Granny wouldn’t stand for it.
“Let them have some fun in their golden years, Hazel,” she’d said, a gleam in her eye I didn’t wish to question. Some things were better left undiscussed.
And so, we now had cats coming out our ears. Once in high school, I’d run all the way to Rip’s house, crying that I couldn’t find Granny. Turned out she was just taking a nap and all the cats had sat on her, covering her from head to toe. Rip had been nice about it, but he’d given Granny a wide berth ever since that incident. She’d been completely covered, but her crazy had shown like a beacon.
“You gonna sniff or what?”
I jumped again, dropping my pen on the linoleum floor.
Bobby, the booking officer at the prison, stood there with his mouth in a snarl and his sweaty armpit on display. I schooled my features into a pleasant smile while I silently screamed inside, leaning forward to give his armpit a sniff.
Oh, sweet baby Jesus, the spice had left the building and the pumpkin had turned rancid. I waved him on and buried my nose in the little canister of coffee beans for a count of ten. Usually, I loved my job. Really, I did. Even with Bobby’s sweaty pits and Clyde’s nest of armpit hair. It was just today, I was distracted. Majorly. I mean, Rip and I found gold last night.
G. O. L. D.
Little nuggets of shiny metal that would mean zeroes in our bank accounts.
Not that the gold was mine. I actually didn’t know whose it was. But I sure liked that phrase “finders keepers.” I’d been humming the tune to “Money, Money, Money” by Abba all morning.
It was the strangest thing. We found it, I jumped for joy, Rip just stared at it in a trance, and then he’d covered it back up with the rocks. You’d think he’d be as jacked as I was. It was a Hell town legend that one day, after the right couple copulated in a sea cave, gold would be discovered in town again. Enough couples were having sex in the sea caves to make it happen, that much I knew. The big one by the cliffs even had a signup sheet on a clipboard next to the cave entrance. Auburn Hill citizensreallywanted to find that gold! Thankfully, I personally hadn’t had to get busy in a sea cave to find the treasure. Although the idea of that with Rip was making me as sweaty under the collar as Bobby’s armpit.
Like a good little sniffer, I kept sniffing until I got to the end of the line of volunteers, marking down my findings. The exact second the last volunteer filed out the door, I grabbed my cell phone out of my pocket and texted Rip.
Hazel:Oh my God, Rip! We have to talk! I’m dying here!
The bubble floated there for an excruciatingly long minute before he replied.
Rip:Fine. Meet me there in 15.
“Meet me there in fifteen? Like minutes?” I mumbled to myself, ditching the lab coat and finding my keys in the lockers in the break room.
Why couldn’t he use more words? Like, did he ration them? Only gave himself so many words to say in a day, so he had to be careful with how many he said at any given time or even texted? God, Rip was so weird. Why couldn’t I have found gold with someone more exciting, like Amelia? Or Lucy. Or even Bain, which wasn’t saying much because that guy was grumpy and scowly-faced all the damn time. Even the prison warden would have been more fun than Rip. Although he did smell good, I had to give him that.
