Page 3 of Coach
“The pay is thirty an hour, and you will have a credit card for repair expenses and cleaning supplies.”
Thirty?
I was hoping to score a job at the state minimum wage, which was somewhere around sixteen. And according to my math, that would be enough to keep me comfortable. I mean, I’d still have to chase sales and get things from the thrift stores and free marketplaces, but I wouldn’t be hurting.
Getting twice that?
To do work I actually liked?
That was a dream.
“That sounds great.”
“Good. Then you start tomorrow. Three p.m.”
With that, the man walked toward the door. He sidestepped the still-setting brick, then stabbed a key into the lock.
“I’m Este, by the way,” I called to his back.
His head swiveled.
“Konstantin Novikoff.”
With that, he was gone, disappearing inside the darkened pool hall.
I was left alone, standing on the street, staring at the reflection of myself in the mirrored window.
How I nabbed a job from a man in a suit like his was beyond me. What with my coppery hair mostly falling out of its claw clip, my face completely bare, save for the smudge of dirt I must have rubbed on my cheek, wearing my ancient overalls, I looked like I’d just fallen off a boxcar somewhere.
You know, if people still stowed away on those things.
I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, though.
I quickly cleaned up my supplies and then got out of there before the Konstantin guy could second-guess his decision.
“Maybe the hall bathroom?” I asked Trix, who let out a big yawn and dropped her head down on her paws. “Right? I think the darker color might look nice contrasted with all that white. If I hustle, I might be able to get both coats done before work tomorrow.”
Fate had other plans, though.
I was on my knees trying not to get any paint on the trim because I was too lazy to tape it off when my cheap little burner phone started to ring loudly on the counter.
“Hello?”
“You need to come to work,” a female voice with the same accent as my boss, barked.
“Oh, uh, sure. Did something break?”
The line went dead.
“Alrighty then,” I said. I carefully tapped closed the paint can, then took the brush with me to the kitchen to wrap in a plastic bag for later use.
“I’m sorry, my girl, but we are going to be late for a w-a-l-k today. Mama has to go in to work, according to the rude lady on the phone.”
I’d only been at the pool hall for three days, so I was still getting to know everyone. There were a surprising number of people who seemed to be working there. Or hanging out with the owners. I wasn’t quite sure what everyone was doing. I just knew they were all dressed to impress and always hanging on Konstantin and Mikhail’s every last word. So I had no idea who the woman was, but she seemed to have some sort of authority, if she was being so clipped with someone else who worked there.
I rushed into my bedroom, pulled my hair up into a high ponytail, then looked for one of my three new all-black outfits. The only one clean was the one I was least sure about wearing to work, given how much Konstantin hated my overalls. It was a black sleeveless jumpsuit that cut close in the legs, so it wasn’t some sort of hazard while working. But I was worried it gave more of a customer vibe than an employee one.
Oh, well.
