Kade

Nolen and I stand at a counter in the kitchens with our tips sprawled out. I didn’t make triple what he did, although I got very close.

“Congratulations,” he says, keeping annoyance out of his voice but not his twitching eyebrow.

“What was it you said earlier?” I lean over to adjust his bowtie. The heat of his glare intensifies when I pretend to dust off his shoulders. “It makes sense that I’m number one because the job isn’t that hard? And yet here we are; me winning and you embarrassing yourself.”

Without missing a beat, he demands, “Best two out of three.”

I laugh. “What?”

“You have the advantage here. I’ve never served before, so best two out of three.”

The adult in me says this is childish. The child in me says fuck that, this is fun.

“Okay, what do you propose?” I grab the cash from the counter to slip into my wallet.

“We will do something to my advantage next. Do you run?”

“No. You see, my idea of fun and strenuous activities lies elsewhere.” I smile at his exaggerated eye roll. Maybe he doesn’t agree? Pity. I wouldn’t mind us partaking in said fun and strenuous activities.

“We’ll meet at Greensbury Park tomorrow in the parking lot at seven pm for a run. Should take twenty minutes,” he says. The mention of tomorrow makes my palms sweat.

“Alright,” I agree, confused when he presents his hands as one would when making a business deal. Snorting, I grasp his hand, that is more callous than expected.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, then pivots on his heel to head for the exit.

What a weird guy, says the guy who agreed to two more competitions. I’d say I’ve got too much time on my hands, but I need this distraction. My phone has buzzed consistently tonight. I’ve avoided the messages because I focused on beating Nolen. The challenge was oddly relieving.

Just then, the kitchen doors open. Marge enters, pushing the mop bucket. I have to finish cleaning up the kitchen, which I thought Nolen would help with, but apparently he was only here to help with serving. Lucky bastard.

“How did the competition go?” Marge asks, laughing to herself.

“I won, as expected.” I show her my tips, that result in an approving nod. “But he challenged me to a run tomorrow since I had the advantage here.”

“Wow.” She whistles. “Men and their competitions. You should just pull out your cocks and measure them to get this over with quickly.”

“I actually wouldn’t mind that, and I hope things wouldn’t end so quickly.” I grin at her expression of disgust. “What? He was hot. It’s his personality that needs some work, but there’s no need for personality when sex is involved.”

“Ugh, you’re ridiculous,” she groans. “And I don’t want to hear that when you need to throw your entire personality away and buy whatever is on sale because it’s better than what you have.”

I playfully kick the back of her thigh.

“Speaking of better than what you have, are you ready for your big day tomorrow?” She asks while rummaging in the cupboard where she stores the mop.

“I’ve been ready. I’ve been waiting tables and scraping by long enough. If this new job somehow doesn’t work out, I’m taking it as a sign from the universe that I chose the wrong career path.”

“Kade.” She laughs, hopping on the counter I just cleaned. She grins at my glare and slips off, allowing me to wipe away her ass imprint. “You got an amazing job at the Ackley Corporation. That is already proof that you have chosen the right career path.”

“Maybe, but somehow that makes me more nervous. They own, like, a third of the food products in every grocery store. Not to mention they have their toes dipped in this very hotel. They supply most of the food. Hell, they probably own it too.”

“Yep, and you.” She taps my nose. “Got in.”

“Out of sheer dumb luck,” I remind her, tossing my cleaning rag into the sink. “The only reason I got a chance is because of that stupid Manny’s Munchies competition that you read about on the back of a cereal box. I happened to design something suitable for a kid’s cereal compared to others who probably designed a hundred products more than me.”

She tilts her head. “It’s not like you to be this worked up about something, especially considering you already got the job.”

“Yeah, well, when you’re twenty-nine buried in college debt and no prospects, that overwhelming confidence becomes a wee bit fragile. New job or not, I can lose it with one screw up.”

Among a few other current issues. I haven’t had the best month and the struggles are weighing on me.

“Hey.” Marge grabs my shoulders, forcing me to meet her firm gaze. “You are the most stubborn bastard I know and I say that with the utmost love. That stubborn nature, even the one you showed tonight, is going to make sure you keep this job. Whatever they throw at you, you’ll make it work.”

She sways us side to side, smiling until I smile, too. “Thanks, Marge.”

“No problem. Now, can you finish up? I wanna go home.” She hops towards the door, stopping to stare at something on the counter behind me. “Don’t forget your tips.”

“I have my tips.”

“Then whose are those?” She points at the counter. I follow her gaze to find Nolen didn’t take his money.

“Shit. That’s Nolen’s.” I grab the cash, then follow Marge out. She locks up the kitchen and the restaurant.

“You said you’re meeting with him tomorrow, right?” She asks as we walk through the hotel lobby towards the exit. “Give it to him then.”

I slip the cash into my back pocket. “Yeah, I’ll let Steven know too, in case Nolen calls in to ask about it.”

Marge and I make it to the bus station in time for her to catch the bus. I sit on the bench, waiting for mine, when my phone buzzes. I’ve ignored the messages all night, but that’s harder to do when my mind is clear, when there’s nothing and no one here to distract me. Even when I know it’s a bad idea, I grab my phone.

Alex: Come on, babe. Don’t be like this. I’m sorry. I miss you. Can’t we talk?

Grinding my teeth, I click on his name. My finger hovers over the block button as it has done many times before, but then another message pops up.

Alex: Please. I love you. I love you so much. It won’t happen again. I was stupid and I’m sorry. Don’t ignore me.

My chest aches with a familiar pain that I must be addicted to because I don’t block him. I shove my phone back in my pocket when the bus arrives. I don’t have time to be thinking about him right now. Tomorrow is important. Life changing, even, and that’s what I need now more than ever; an event to change the shit trajectory of my life for good.

*

Ackley Corporation stands as the tallest building in the city, also known simply as Ackley Tower. A mighty skyscraper casting a long shadow across the tired morning workers. I’ve never been one to enjoy waking prior to noon, but today is different. The nerves of yesterday have vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sensation of excitement. This is it. I’ve got a job with fucking healthcare. Who saw that coming? I’m making more than double what I made as a waiter. Maybe I’ll be able to move out of the closet that is my apartment to a semi-decent place.

Adjusting the lanyard around my neck, I head for the front doors. I’m a little early, but good impressions are necessary, especially on your first day. Workers pile through the pristine white lobby decorated by modern architecture and a surprising amount of greenery. At the back of the lobby are a few sets of elevators that I find myself crammed into and loving every second. I’ve never cared much about personal space, as I’ve often found myself exceedingly close to quite a few strangers. I step out on the seventh floor, the Design Department, which luckily has an enormous sign on a wall of clouded glass directly outside of the elevators. A couple of workers brush by me to enter the double doors to the right. My future co-workers, perhaps. I put on a charming smile and follow them, eager for this new beginning.

Inside, desks line the windows, setting front to front. There’s a person on either side of the desk, focused on their computer screen or drawing pads situated beside them. Designs of bestsellers line the walls either as motivation or a giant fuck you to those whose designs corporate passed up. Guess it depends on how one looks at it. While the furniture matches the modern aesthetic of the lobby, the lighting does not. Lights along the walls pass off colors of blue, green, purple, and pink. At the far end of the department are a pair of double doors that hang wide open and a woman stands over the desk within, overlooking papers until she raises her gaze.

I recognize her as Ji-ho Park, one of the women who interviewed me, and an inspiration of mine. Her black hair is cut into a stylish bob that tickles the base of her cool beige neck. Her killer heels clack across the office floor. Seriously, she could cut someone with those, and look fabulous while doing so. I’ve followed a lot of her work since high school. Now here I am, her underling. Life might actually be good after all.