Page 6 of The Wild Card
I open my mouth to roll this all back, ready to leave the interview with my proverbial tail between my figurative legs, but Kelvin sets down his pen and speaks first.
“Your boyfriend lives here?” he asks, finally sounding hopeful. Positive. Like this tiny detail—which hasnothingto do with my ability to act—is the thing that matters most.
I bite the inside of my cheek and nod. “Yup. He sure does.”
Welp. Can’t roll it back now.
“That’s … good,” Vespa says. “Is it serious? I mean, clearly we aren’t hiring based on your relationship status.”
“Of course we aren’t doing that,” Kelvin adds quickly.
They both give little fake laughs, like this will convince me they aren’tactuallytrying to hire based on relationship status. Even though I’m pretty sure they are doing exactly that, for whatever reason.
I honestly don’t know why Vespa and Kelvinwouldcare about my relationship status—er, myfakerelationship status. And I don’t care, as clearly, this does matter to them. It’s somehow the tipping point.
The mood in the room is shifting from asorry but noto apossibly yes. I can practicallysmellthe job offer in the air.
Or maybe that’s just the funnel cakes.
“So, you’d say you have strong ties to the area,” Vespa says.
Kelvin leans forward. “You’re putting down roots here?”
“Definitely. I am anoak.” They totally miss myTombstonereference, which is slightly disappointing. So few people these days appreciate the genius of that movie.
I should really talkless. I’m not doing myself any favors here. But I’m relieved that it seems as though they’re asking about a boyfriend because they want insurance that I won’t ditch them and run off to L.A. or something. They’re looking for stability, it seems, and I can give them that.
Or I can pretend to.
Stability with a side of imaginary boyfriend.
I’m not good at playing hardball, so I’ll keep this in my back pocket for now.
“And you won’t just leave if you and your boyfriend break up?”
“Oh, there’s no way we’re breaking up.” I say this with full confidence. Because it’s not a lie! No boyfriend, no breakup. My mental gymnastics game isstrong. I’ve already hitched my wagon to the imaginary boyfriend train. Might as well take this baby for a ride.
Panic starts to rise in my throat. I’msoclose. I can almost taste the job. Or the part. Whatever. Heck—I’d be the coffee-delivering gopher so long as it means not going home.
What I can also almost taste is freedom. The sweetness of not having my dad dictate every move and keep me under a bell jar of unnecessary protection. So I just keep babbling.
“My boyfriend is great. We’re actually here at the festival together. He promised to win me a stuffed animal while I’m auditioning.”
I smile, channeling the character I just auditioned for. She’s quick on her feet but also sweet as pie. Kelvin and Vespa look interested. Why not double-down?
“Actually”—I lower my voice and lean forward—“he’s about to propose. I think. I’m not supposed to know, but I saw the ring.”
Stop talking now, Molly! Before you upgrade to married with two-point-five kids and a golden retriever.
“That’s wonderful,” Vespa says, exchanging a look with Kelvin.
“Congratulations,” he adds, leaning back in his chair.
They both look pleased, but when there’s no immediate offer, I decide to add a little pressure.
“Can I ask why you’re asking so many questions about my relationship status?” I widen my eyes and attempt to look slightly confused. “This isn’t part of the official interview process … is it?”
I hope I sound innocent enough not to make them dislike me but on target enough to deliver an uncomfortable reminder about hiring legalities. I’m pretty sure it would give me grounds to sue the pants off of them over this. I may not know much, but I do know there are discrimination policies.
