not interested in, come dance.”
I don’t bother dignifying that with a response. “I need another drink first. You want?”
“Nah, I’m good.” She grins and shimmies away.
A few minutes later, I have my drink in hand and am about to head to where Kelly and Meeka are dominating the dance floor when I realize who the tall blond standing beside me at the bar is. “Naomi?”
She turns with a haughty expression—probably expecting I’m another guy hitting on her—before recognition dawns in her eyes and they light up. She grabs me in a tight hug and squeezes me hard enough to crack my back. Massage therapists really should watch that around us mortals with normal upper-body strength. “You still working for those crazy assholes at Inner Space?”
“It was only my fifth day today.”
“I’m so glad I got the hell out of there. Worst seven months of my life.” She slurs her s ’s, and her eyelids look heavy. “I swear, the stories I could tell you would make you puke in your mouth just the tiiiniest bit.” She takes a large swig of her martini.
I frown. “If you hated them so much, why did you tell me they were hiring?”
“I’m so sorry about that, Sarah. I guess I wanted one coworker who wasn’t a crazy fucking hippie, and he said you really needed the job.” Her expression brightens. “Maybe it will be different for you being a receptionist rather than a therapist. But you need to know how nuts they are so you don’t get blindsided like I was.”
“I guess,” I say without much conviction. They’re a bit much at times, but they don’t seem like bad people.
“Just get out of there as fast as you possibly can, okay? There’s a reason they’ve gone through six receptionists in nine months.”
That’s a huge turnover rate, but maybe the other receptionists were incompetent. I know I’m a hard worker and can keep up with whatever they throw at me. I’m used to swimming with sharks. These hippies will be a piece of cake compared to the ruthless partners at the law firm. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep looking.” I’ve already started whipping them into shape though. Sure, the job is different than I thought it would be, but I can handle it. I can handle them.
Naomi smiles and waves at someone across the bar. “I’ll catch you later, Sarah—and if I hear about another job somewhere else, I’ll let you know. But remember my advice. They act like they’re all about love and understanding and honesty, but they’ll turn on you. And watch out for Crackie.”
“Crackie?”
“Phyllis.”
“Why? What’s she gonna do?”
But Naomi has already faded into the crowd.
Yikes. Maybe one more drink won’t be enough. Not wanting to spare one more thought for my job, I dance until my drink is gone, set the empty glass on a nearby table, then dance until my throat screams for water.
“There she is. How’s my tiny dancer?”
“Hey, Pete.” I lean back into the warmth of his arms as he wraps them around me. “I’m good.”
“I worried you’d flaked out.”
“Flaking is for fish.”
He peers around my shoulder without letting go of me. “My, we have been having a good time, haven’t we?”
“I may have had a drink or two. Guess my tolerance has gone down a bit.”
“Just a bit. See anyone bang-worthy?”
My gaze flits back to Jack. “Nope.”
“Me neither.” He leads me deeper onto the dance floor, and the music seamlessly switches to Pete’s favorite song. He grins up at the DJ booth, thankfully now Rhonda-free, and waves at his brother. From profile, their faces are identical; I could be dancing with Jack. Parts of me that have no business tingling start to tingle at the thought. Then Pete turns back, and he’s so undeniably my best friend that the attraction fizzles out.
I’m twenty-five years old. The layoff showed me I need to get my life together. I’ve got to get serious about my future. Inner Space is a job, but it isn’t a career. The next man
I don’t bother dignifying that with a response. “I need another drink first. You want?”
“Nah, I’m good.” She grins and shimmies away.
A few minutes later, I have my drink in hand and am about to head to where Kelly and Meeka are dominating the dance floor when I realize who the tall blond standing beside me at the bar is. “Naomi?”
She turns with a haughty expression—probably expecting I’m another guy hitting on her—before recognition dawns in her eyes and they light up. She grabs me in a tight hug and squeezes me hard enough to crack my back. Massage therapists really should watch that around us mortals with normal upper-body strength. “You still working for those crazy assholes at Inner Space?”
“It was only my fifth day today.”
“I’m so glad I got the hell out of there. Worst seven months of my life.” She slurs her s ’s, and her eyelids look heavy. “I swear, the stories I could tell you would make you puke in your mouth just the tiiiniest bit.” She takes a large swig of her martini.
I frown. “If you hated them so much, why did you tell me they were hiring?”
“I’m so sorry about that, Sarah. I guess I wanted one coworker who wasn’t a crazy fucking hippie, and he said you really needed the job.” Her expression brightens. “Maybe it will be different for you being a receptionist rather than a therapist. But you need to know how nuts they are so you don’t get blindsided like I was.”
“I guess,” I say without much conviction. They’re a bit much at times, but they don’t seem like bad people.
“Just get out of there as fast as you possibly can, okay? There’s a reason they’ve gone through six receptionists in nine months.”
That’s a huge turnover rate, but maybe the other receptionists were incompetent. I know I’m a hard worker and can keep up with whatever they throw at me. I’m used to swimming with sharks. These hippies will be a piece of cake compared to the ruthless partners at the law firm. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep looking.” I’ve already started whipping them into shape though. Sure, the job is different than I thought it would be, but I can handle it. I can handle them.
Naomi smiles and waves at someone across the bar. “I’ll catch you later, Sarah—and if I hear about another job somewhere else, I’ll let you know. But remember my advice. They act like they’re all about love and understanding and honesty, but they’ll turn on you. And watch out for Crackie.”
“Crackie?”
“Phyllis.”
“Why? What’s she gonna do?”
But Naomi has already faded into the crowd.
Yikes. Maybe one more drink won’t be enough. Not wanting to spare one more thought for my job, I dance until my drink is gone, set the empty glass on a nearby table, then dance until my throat screams for water.
“There she is. How’s my tiny dancer?”
“Hey, Pete.” I lean back into the warmth of his arms as he wraps them around me. “I’m good.”
“I worried you’d flaked out.”
“Flaking is for fish.”
He peers around my shoulder without letting go of me. “My, we have been having a good time, haven’t we?”
“I may have had a drink or two. Guess my tolerance has gone down a bit.”
“Just a bit. See anyone bang-worthy?”
My gaze flits back to Jack. “Nope.”
“Me neither.” He leads me deeper onto the dance floor, and the music seamlessly switches to Pete’s favorite song. He grins up at the DJ booth, thankfully now Rhonda-free, and waves at his brother. From profile, their faces are identical; I could be dancing with Jack. Parts of me that have no business tingling start to tingle at the thought. Then Pete turns back, and he’s so undeniably my best friend that the attraction fizzles out.
I’m twenty-five years old. The layoff showed me I need to get my life together. I’ve got to get serious about my future. Inner Space is a job, but it isn’t a career. The next man
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