I was by my coach, sitting there in my underwear and oversized cropped tee shirt, plus a bag of half-eaten potato chips with the salt and vinegar pinching my tongue quite badly. This was just about the only flavor I adored, so I had been snacking for a few minutes with that business card sitting there on my coffee table.
I had my rough curls up in a bun or better yet an attempt at it as I had some tendrils tumbling over my forehead and sides, my face bare of any make-up–I was far from professional. Or a job. I had no other option, I had to call the guy. I guess my sisters had already preached to me about this, going on about how I needed it and how this was a sign. I hated when they took advantage of that Jesus card and unfortunately, it often worked. They lived well aware of it too. I was staring at the business card, a large bag of Lays potato chips sat on top of my lap, and the TV was just basically off as it had nothing I was interested in.
I had the volume turned down a bit.
My sister had sold it to me and I also didn't want to sit in my apartment all day by myself, I wanted to be busy.
I wanted to not think.
The visit to the hospital had woken up napping ghosts, I had barely slept last night.
I needed something to distract me from that.
I so needed a job, soon.
I bit my lower lip as I went for the business card, my phone already sitting a bit too close to my bare thigh and it wasn't even my choice at this point–I had to make this call, unfortunately. So, I dialed the number.
My eyes sort of raked over my ugly walls as I listened to it ring.
I hated my lease, I hated its stiff rules and the fact that it left me no choice but to have to live with that awful paint–the ugliest shade of yellow I'd ever seen. It looked disgusting and although my furniture had been bought at some second-hand shop, and some from a yard sale or two, it still didn't deserve the punishment it got. They practically screamed in horror, I hated them and I didn't judge anyone else who lived in the building, but beholding this I was sure of one thing–I was dead broke for sure.
I went for a chip as I attempted the number again, disappointment welling up inside my chest.
I regretted it, however, because while I was chewing the person answered, leaving me to slightly choke on a piece of the chip while trying to swallow fast, my eyes watered.
"Hello?"
I tried to wash it down as I swallowed, but regardless I felt the discomfort.
I was afraid the person was going to hang up as I tried to breathe properly, the chip having blocked down my airway for a second.
It finally went down as I wiped my eyes, clearing my throat–my voice sounded funny.
"Oh, hi." I wanted to slap myself right there and there.
This was quite uncomfortable, I suddenly sat up straight so aware of the fact that I was in underwear.
I even wiped my free hand down my shirt.
"You know, I don't have all day." I heard some shuffling in the background as I gulped.
"I'm sorry, you must be busy. I don't know if Miranda told you, but she told me you needed someone to help you out with–"
"I need a PA," he said, his voice sounding so deep.
"She told me that. . .and I don't mean to call at such an odd time. " I nudged a lock behind my ear and it sort of returned shortly just like a boomerang.
I bit my lower lip waiting as additional shuffling rang in the background, the bit of silence crying out at me to just hang up and to simply give up already. I just didn't do it, however.
"By the way, you're not bothering me. I'm just tired," he clarified, quite calmly to my surprise. "I would hate to discuss this on the phone with you, but. . .I want you to know what you're getting yourself into first."
He sounded tired, I sort of felt sorry for him. "Okay."
"I sort of forgot the name she told me to call you by, sorry." There was something careful yet firm to the way he spoke, his every word sort of light.
I tried to move without disturbing the bag of chips on my lap, I was careful of every sound I made really. "Grace."
"What?"
"My name's Grace, you said you forgot it." I wiped my palm down my crop top, clearing my throat.
He let out a chuckle to my surprise, it sounded so soft despite the deepness of his voice. "No, I mean to ask you. . .your last name."
"Of course, sorry. I forgot" I laughed too. "It's Richmond."
"This is so awkward on the phone, usually I'm more social than this. I'm selling myself a certain way here," he said, letting out another chuckle. "I don't mean to sound so stiff, sorry."
"It's fine."
"Are you okay now?" His voice sounded again.
I tried not to get upset about it, but I could already tell from his tone just what he was referring to. "I fainted, I'm fine."
I didn't want to go into detail and probably ruin my chances of getting this job, especially with the doctor suggesting I take it easy and the upcoming test results, maybe that was better unsaid.
I guess he finally decided to say something and sort of surprised me. "I bet it's more than that, but you want to shrug it off until it becomes something more, right?"
I sat up straight and the bag of chips made a sound as it slipped from my thigh.
I placed the phone on loudspeaker and sat there as if the person I was talking to could see me. "What makes you say so?"
"My brother is like that."
I laughed. "Is that a good thing?"
"For you? Yes." He chuckled again with ease.
"So, it's a problem for everybody else?" I asked, bringing my knee closer to my chest.
"He doesn't. . .won't take care of his migraines, says it's nothing. I mean, to him it isn't," he said, his voice still carried off such graceful ease that it made it so much easier to listen. "But, when they hit him. . .er. . .we all feel it quite a lot."
"How so?" It felt easy to ask.
"They make him moody, he drinks more than five cups of coffee a day. . .though he shouldn't." He let out a soft chuckle last.
"How bad do these migraines get? Is he taking something for them?" I asked, eyeing my bag of chips.
He let out another chuckle. "My brother? You try getting him to take this seriously, maybe you might be lucky."
"Is he that difficult?"
"It depends."
"It depends?" My brow arched involuntarily.
"Whether you can handle it or not, I mean. . .he's not that difficult, just picky and often moody," the man said, with the background noise still audible in the distance.
I rubbed my hand down my knee. "Why?"
"I guess, in some strange way I have a good feeling about you," he stated, openly.
"I hope that's a good thing."
"It is," he sounded with a lightness to his tone.
"I don't mean to be rude, but I hope it has something to do–"
He cut in quite swiftly to my surprise. "The job? It does."
"I see," I said, trying my best to not come across as desperate and I guess I was, to be honest, but he didn't have to be aware of that.
"My brother is my boss. . .and hence why I did bring up his migraines, they'll be your problem," he declared.
"As in. . .?"
"I did say I liked you," he said, letting out a soft laugh.
I guess it was a bit surreal but it was better than all the other jobs I had applied for.
"I guess your brother has to like me as well then," I said, leaning forward and close to my phone.
He let out that laugh. "I'll make sure he does so he can give me some space for my actual job."
"And sleep," I added, quickly.
I heard him sigh. "And that too, I had started to forget what it feels like to get a good night's rest."
"Do you need my information. . .and resume?" I asked, bringing my arms to myself. "I mean, I don't want you to make such a big decision based on just this conversation."
"I wouldn't, your sister has already done that for you. I've just not –"
"My sister?" I was surprised but far from impressed.
"I guess my fiance has great communication skills because she got her to send her your resume," he told, barely bothered by this as I was. "And I will go through it later."
I sighed. "I can't believe she did that, I'm not in kindergarten anymore."
"I feel for you, but in her defense. . .I think it worked out well," he said, sounding humored by this.
"I guess so, but you'll have to see my face before you decide anything." I shoved my hair from my face to no result.
"My assistant will call you about further details. . .and then I'll set up a meeting for the rest," he said. "And then I'll see you. . .about your duties just to catch you up on some details."
I nodded. "Okay."
"Does. . .next week sound good?" he asked me of all people.
"Uh, of course." I nodded.
"I will see you then," he said, then hung up.