Saving Grace [Jesse Fforde]

[Charlie]

Charlie pondered the proposition for a few quiet seconds, fingers itching to tap to the beat given her firm footing on the dusty floor. It was nothing she couldn’t do; as a duty manager she’d been charged with orders, sometimes coming in as early as 8AM after knocking off hours prior. Responsibility was not something she shied away from, nor was it something she inherently sought out. Her fingers curled into her palms, nails digging into the warm skin. There was a fine layer of sweat building up along the creases, prompting her to hook her thumbs over the edges of her pockets.

The change of posture allowed her to reign in her sarcasm, the sharpened edge of her tongue pressing to the back of clenched teeth. It was subtle, momentary, and rewarded by a safe answer once she opened her mouth to speak.

“Aye, twenty-three.
I’ve got references, including from me last job as duty manager.
What about remuneration?”

There had been a time when talk of money would have been a topic she’d avoid, but after so many months of getting quasi-swindled and negotiating fair compensation many times over, it was no longer off limits. Money was, after all, a necessity.

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse’s smile was thin. There was a gap in his teeth that he never had liked, though it was visible when he laughed without care. When he laughed because he genuinely was amused. Now, he smiled because he recognised that kind of attitude. He couldn’t judge Charlie for it – it was an attitude he had had, once. Probably one that he had again, now. It wasn’t I would like a job, these are the things I can do for you. Instead, it was I would like a job. What can you do for me? It was the way of the new generation, they said. No work ethic, they accused.

But Jesse got it. He understood. Who the **** would want to work without reward? Sometimes it had nothing to do with work. It was there in every kind of relationship. He’d done a whole fuckload of giving in his life and had got no acknowledgement. Instead, he had only ever been slammed for what he lacked.

No more. Yes, he got it. He understood. Regardless, in the end, he would be the boss. He had the power. If Charlie did not give what was expected of her as an employee, then she would not last long. Now? It did no harm to tell her what she would get if she were a loyal and trusted employee.

”Depends on where you flourish,” he said, slowly.

”If you turn out to be no good, you’ll get less hours. If you turn out to be better than good, you might get full time. You’ll get holiday pay, RRSP, sick leave, all the usual suspects. We do everything above board, here,” he said. It wasn’t a lie, not entirely. They did as much as they could above board so that any unwanted attention could be kept away – so that the below-board things could be kept secret, and away from prying eyes.

”Does that meet your expectations? Is that doing enough for you?” he asked, clipped, sarcastic amusement rounding out his words.

[Charlie]

Charlie would have much preferred to be paid in the black. There was nothing about paying taxes that she enjoyed, but especially when it was taking longer than she’d hoped to get her tax papers sorted out. Though she was content with earning enough to cover costs and save up for travel, the percentage they’d draw from her salary would be higher until she had her tax filing number. Not to mention it took too long to reclaim it once all was said and done. She was still waiting on the Australian taxation office to reclaim her money, not to mention her darned superannuation. It’d make her life much easier if she had that money.

Though he was standoffish at best, the lad didn’t seem particularly dishonest. If she found herself exploited, it’d be one hell of a shite situation to be in, but it was a risk she should be willing to take. After all, this was the only job offer she’d stumbled upon in a week.

“Aye, fair’s fair.”

Shuffling her hands inside her pockets, she glanced about the interior once again. It didn’t look cheap. In spite of his ordinary attire, he probably had the money if he was remodelling. He didn’t make it sound like it was strictly business; there was a sliver of fondness when he’d spoken of his plans.

“Do I get a tour of the place?”

[Jesse Fforde]

Jesse fell back on silence. A tour? A tour, Jesse thought, would be reserved for those who’d already got a job. Jesse hadn’t yet looked at Charlie’s CV; he hadn’t called or contacted her references. He had no evidence whatsoever that what she told him was true. The artist knew that he was within his rights to tell her to go away and come back at an appointed time; to organise a proper interview, with preconceived questions and paperwork.

In the end, Jesse cracked a grin.

He didn’t wear suits and nor was he ordinary. He couldn’t conduct ordinary interviews because ordinary interviews often took place during the day. Although Jesse could stay awake during the day, he still had to stay out of the sun. It just… wasn’t feasible. Besides, he knew from experience that staying away all day and all night was about as good for vampires as it was for humans. An insomniac vampire was not a pretty thing.

”Yeah okay,” he said, finally, the tension of his lean body easing into sudden movement. He twisted toward the stairs, expecting Charlie to follow. His feet thundered on each step as he descended into the basement. The lights were all on; bright, but not too bright. They created a comfortable kind of atmosphere.

”The gym! There’s glass sections of the floor upstairs that look down into the gym. The storeroom is down here as well. There’ll be paintball nights, too,” he said. The gym was a veritable jungle of wooden blocks and monkey bars, of all different shapes and sizes. There was even a foam pit in the upper levels of the maze.

”Obviously, I’ll hire security - we’ll keep the drunks out of the gym and out of the tattoo parlour,” he said. The smile on his face could almost be sinister, as if he looked forward to being security himself. As if he personally looked forward to being able to break some wrists.