by Kit Morgan
At the end of the hall was the one she was looking for. “MacMos International Educators,” the plaque on the door read. Tory took a deep breath. “Okay now, Phelps, don’t blow this. You need this job.” She opened the door –
– and stopped dead in her tracks. The most beautiful woman she’d ever seen was sitting on the other side of a desk typing a letter. She looked up as Tory unfroze and approached. “Good afternoon,” she greeted. Her voice gave Tory an odd tingling sensation, like champagne flowing through her veins.
Tory blinked twice. “Uh, yes. I was contacted about a teaching position …”
“Oh, you must be Miss Phelps,” the woman stated.
Tory nodded. “Um, yes. That’s me.” Her voice sounded like a clunker truck starting up compared to the receptionist’s beautiful lilt. She studied the woman more closely. Her long auburn hair was thick and curly with streaks of gold, cinnamon and saffron. Such incredible highlights couldn’t be natural. But how could she have colored it that way? And her eyes were even more amazing – almond-shaped with an upward slant, and a fluorescent green that had to be tinted contacts, because no one’s eyes were that color!
Then Tory remembered she had business to attend to. “I have a 4:00 appointment with Mr. MacDonald,” she said, almost stumbling over the words.
The woman smiled. “Yes, I am aware. I will let him know you are here.” She stood. “Would you like some water or tea?”
“You have tea?” Not that she wanted any, as hot as it was. Thankfully, the office had air conditioning.
The woman went to a small counter at one wall. “I can make you an iced tea if you would like,” she said as if reading her thoughts.
“Iced tea would be great, thank you,” Tory said with a smile. She loved iced tea.
The woman nodded and headed to a door near the counter. “I will let Mr. MacDonald know you are here, then bring you both some tea.” Before Tory could comment, she disappeared into the other office.
This gave Tory a moment to study her surroundings. The office wasn’t fancy but looked respectable enough. She noted several packets on the desk similar to the one she’d received and wondered how many people had applied for this particular job. Or were there several openings? The one they’d chosen her for would be a dream come true … if she got it.
The woman returned, went to the desk, and picked up a sheaf of papers. “If you will follow me, Mr. MacDonald will see you now.”
Tory watched her head for the other door with a pinch of envy. The woman wore a simple white blouse and black pencil skirt, but filled it out in all the right places. But her jealousy didn’t stem from the woman’s looks – Tory did okay on her own in that department, thank you very much. It was that the woman didn’t so much walk as glide across the office and into the next. Tory didn’t have a graceful bone in her body.
Once in the adjoining office, she stopped short again. “Oh wow, it’s a loft,” she said in surprise. The room was huge, at least forty-five feet long, with high arched windows along one whole wall and a high ceiling, maybe twenty feet, But most of all, sitting behind a desk at the other end of the long room was a huge man that seemed to define the words “drop dead gorgeous.” Oh my Lord, Tory thought, how am I going to get through this interview without drooling all over myself?!
The man looked at his secretary admiringly and hinted at a smile before turning to Tory. So they had a thing, huh? she silently mused. She looked at the man’s left hand, and sure enough, he was wearing a ring. Figured – all of the good ones were taken.
The man stood. “Miss. Phelps, I’m Mr. MacDonald. ‘Tis good to finally meet you.”
Tory stared at him a moment. His accent was Scottish. He was very tall – six-five, easily – and his hair was dark, wavy and longer than what she expected a businessman to have, tied back in a ponytail. He was fierce-looking, like some barbarian warrior from a movie, but wore a business suit like he’d been born in it. His voice was deep and smooth, and his eyes were the same bright green as his secretary’s.
“Thank you,” she finally said, remembering her manners. “It’s nice to meet you too. So, uh, do you live here in Stockton?”
He chuckled. “Nay, lass. I’m no from here. I …” His eyes flicked to his secretary. “… came here to do the interviews. My accent always makes people ask me the same question, though.”
“So this isn’t a permanent office?”
“‘Tis for now. We’re recruiting in the area, ye ken. Have a seat.” He motioned to a chair on the other side of the desk and she quickly took it. He smiled again, then turned to his secretary. “Shona, I could do with some water.”
Shona smiled at him, and Tory swore she felt something pass between them. She glanced at his secretary’s left hand … ah, all was clear. She was wearing a matching ring – they were a married couple. So nepotism ran in the family around here? But what business was it of hers? She was there to get a job, not judge the interviewer.
Shona left the room with the grace of a doe to fetch his drink. With my luck she’ll bring the water and forget all about my tea, Tory thought.
Mr. MacDonald rifled through the pile of papers Shona had put on his desk. “So ye attended the local college?”
Tory opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Oh, how embarrassing! She smiled and swallowed. She could really use that iced tea about now. “Yes, I’ve, um, taken classes there.” Which was a stupid thing to say considering he was looking at the papers that said so. “Community college. Not the University.” Okay, now she wanted to hit herself – that would be in the papers too.
He smiled gently, continuing to look through the stack. Finally he set them aside, picked up a file and opened it. “But ye don’t have a license or a credential?”
And this was it. The final blow. The. End. She might as well get up and walk out. “No, I’m afraid not. In fact you’ll note on my application that I’ve only had some college. I never finished. I don’t even have my associate’s degree.” If she was going down in flames, she might as well throttle up and get it over with.
“Ye put in this application months ago. Have ye taken any classes since?”
It was an odd question, but what the hey? “No, I’ve been too busy working. Not that I didn’t want to take any,” she quickly added. “But paying the bills came first.”
He scribbled something, then tapped the end of his pencil against the file. “But ye still desire to teach English abroad?”
Her heart leaped at the word “abroad.” It was the reason she applied for such a position in the first place – she wanted to teach, and jobs like this didn’t require a bachelor’s degree and a teaching certificate, at least not at this company. “Yes, I certainly do.” She tacked on a smile for good measure.
He smiled back, and was about to comment when his secretary entered with a small tray. She set it on the table and gave them each a glass – Tory her iced tea, Mr. MacDonald his water. There was also a plate of chocolate chip cookies, big, fat, and chewy-looking, like the ones you get after donating plasma. She’d done that a few times, literally giving blood to make ends meet. The big Scot eyed them, glanced at his wife(?), bit his lower lip and shoved the plate towards Tory. “Cookie?”
“Oh, I shouldn’t …”
“I would take one now if I were you,” Shona commented as she turned to leave. “Otherwise he will eat all of them.” Yes, definitely his wife.
He narrowed his eyes at her retreating form. Once she left, he took three cookies and got back to business. “The position is in Sussex, England …”
* * *
Tory left the interview feeling downright confident. Mr. MacDonald might be big and angry-looking, but once she got him laughing he made her feel right at home. And it was nice to see a couple that seemed so happily married. Maybe they were newlyweds. Who knew? All she knew was that she had a good chance at getting this job. She’d find out in a few days – Mr. MacDonald said he’d call her either way to let her know.
Everything h
inged on her taking a few classes, but that was no problem – they were at night, which fit her schedule. She got off work early enough that she’d still have time to go home, grab a bite to eat and get down to the building near the airport where the classes were held. She just hoped Benny didn’t ask too many questions. The job would pay very well, but it meant leaving the United States. Poor Benny would be totally on his own, to sink or swim. Perhaps to sink and take her house with him.
Of course, that was if she got the job to begin with. If she did, she’d go to England, starting as a private tutor for a sort of probation period. Survive that, and she’d be in charge of a classroom. The United Kingdom had an influx of immigrants whose English wasn’t very good. She wished she’d thought to ask what countries the immigrants were from, but she’d been so excited over the direction the interview was going that she didn’t want to press.
Once home, Tory changed her clothes and made a sandwich. She had no idea where Benny was, and part of her hoped he didn’t come home for a while – she wanted time to think before she went to bed. On the other hand, the rest of her wanted her car back. Taking the local bus to her interview had not been a pleasant experience.
After eating she went into the living room with pen and paper and made a list of everything she’d need to take care of before she left. She also made a list of everything Benny would need to take care of after she left. Needless to say, both lists were long. How to break the news to him? She didn’t want him to pitch a fit and break something. She glanced around, wondering what she ought to put out of sight for safety’s sake.
She stopped herself. “Tory, you’re being ridiculous. He’s an immature jerk, but…” She remembered him flipping the couch over. “… okay, he’s a jerk who breaks things.” Tory got up and moved the vase and pictures from the mantle to a corner, then did the same in the kitchen and dining room. If he asked where everything was, she’d tell him she’d been dusting.
She was thinking about Benny-proofing her own room when the phone rang. She picked it up on the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hey, doll,”
Tory mimed gagging. “Mr. Smith. What do you need?”
“Oh, doll, I’d love to tell you what I need, but this isn’t a personal call, this is business. I need you to come in an hour early tomorrow.”
She ignored his lurid line. “An hour? Why?”
“On account Maria’s having her baby tonight. You’d think she could wait until next week.”
Tory rolled her eyes. “Fine. Don’t worry, I’ll get the laundry done in time.”
“I knew I could count on you, doll.”
Tory cringed and rolled her eyes again. “Is that it?”
“That’s it. See you tomorrow.” Click.
Tory groaned and hung up. Her employer might be a perv, but he did do his share of the work around the place. She’d seen him step up when he was needed. Maybe Benny could take over her job – Mr. Smith wouldn’t be as ticked off at her departure if she’d lined up a replacement. Of course, Benny was lazy and slow, but that would be Mr. Smith’s problem, not hers. Besides, Benny would have to learn to hustle if he was going to take care of himself. With any luck, it would stick.
Tory smiled at the thought, grabbed the remote, turned on the TV and settled in to watch some Law & Order.
Three
Three days later she received the call. “I got it! I got it!” Tory yelped afterward, throwing in a few jumps for good measure.
Benny sauntering through the front door, on the other hand, killed her excitement. “What’s going on? You got what?”
Tory froze. What should she tell him? No matter how she put it, he’d probably freak.
“Sis?” he prompted, eyes narrowed as he pulled a joint from the front pocket of his shirt.
For a moment he reminded her of Mr. Smith, her greasy employer … that was it! She smiled. “I got you a job.”
Benny blanched. “You … you what?”
“You heard me,” she said with a satisfied nod. “I got you a job.”
“What kind of job?” he replied cautiously.
“Mine. At least we both know you’re capable of it.”
He stared at her a moment, then burst out laughing. “Your job? Are you out of your frigging mind? Wash a bunch of sheets with God only knows what on them? Clean floors? Make beds?”
“Uh-huh. It’ll be perfect for you – not too hard, decent money. And they don’t drug-test.”
He almost seemed to consider that last part, then shook his head. “No. Uh-uh.”
“Benny, you haven’t worked in months. I’m handing this to you, because I’ve got some classes to take for my new job.” Let him swallow that, she thought.
His eyebrows shot up. “You got another job?”
“Yes, I did,” she said with a hint of pride. Her excitement was rising again, making it hard to hide it.
“That’s great!” he said, flinging himself on the couch.
“There’s a lot of training involved. And then I go overseas for the job. That’s why you’ll have to work. You’ve been living off me long enough, little brother. It’s time you grew up.”
“I am grown up!”
Tory’s happy face disappeared. “Really?” she sighed, hands on hips. “You haven’t worked in months. You do nothing around here except make a mess. You spend all your time running around with your friends and sponging off them. What part of any of that says that you’re grown up?”
He grimaced. The truth hurt. But then, so did the book he picked up and threw at her. She ducked, but it clipped her in the forehead. “You brat!” She snatched up the book and was ready to throw it back, but stopped. What good would that do? He’d just lob it at her again, maybe break a window in the process. At least she had the foresight to put away the breakables.
Benny jumped off the couch and headed for the door, then stopped. “Where are the keys?”
“Where are my keys, you mean?” she replied. “Somewhere you can’t get at them.”
He stormed back, looking ready to spit nails. “Give me the keys.”
Benny was taller and stronger, but Tory was fed up, and willing to gamble that he didn’t have the guts to actually hit her. “No. Benny, you are going to work and that’s that. I’m no longer supporting you. Things are going to change around here. And frankly, you can take the bus or walk if you want to get somewhere. Cope.”
He glared at her, then turned again and walked to the door. “Fine!” he spat on the way out, slamming the door behind him.
As soon as he was gone, she let go the breath she’d been holding. “Lord help me, but if he doesn’t get it together, he’s going to get himself killed. Possibly by me.” She took a deep breath, noticed she still had the book in her hand, and put it on the newly duct-taped coffee table. It wobbled under the weight but held together.
She shook her head in dismay, but was still glad she hadn’t caved to Benny’s demands. She had too much at stake, too much to lose. She never realized how much she wanted to change her life until the opportunity presented itself. Her dream was suddenly a reality and she wasn’t going to blow it – or let him blow it.
She went into the kitchen, got a glass of water and downed it. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as visions of Benny trashing the house while she was in England ran through her head. Would he - could he – take care of business while she was gone, or would he destroy everything? But she couldn’t keep taking responsibility for him. He was an adult – physically, at least … “Oh, what am I thinking? How can I do this without him screwing things up?”
Frustrated, Tory got another glass of water and went into the living room. She thought of putting the knick-knacks back on the mantle, but decided against it. Instead she went into her room, retrieved the employee packet from MacMos International Educators and started to read through the instructions for her classes again. There would be time enough to think about what to do with Benny later.
* * *
Sev
eral days went by, and Benny had calmed. He even began asking questions about her job – his job, once he had it. He’d questioned her about her duties at the motel, what kind of boss Mr. Smith was, (Benny didn’t think that was his real name either) and, of course, what her fellow female coworkers looked like. After she informed him they were pretty cute, he was more interested in taking over the position. He’d said so just as she left for class.
It made Tory suspicious. He never chilled out that soon after a confrontation, especially one that concerned him actually having to lift a finger. She couldn’t help but wonder what his angle was. After all, someone like Benny didn’t just grow up overnight.
Tory arrived at her destination, parked the car, and once inside the building, looked up the room she needed. She went up a set of stairs to the second-floor classroom to discover a half-dozen people milling around, including a man she assumed was the instructor. He was very tall, but not as tall as some of the other … students? Applicants? He had a lanky build, a boyish face and prematurely gray hair, but was clearly the oldest person there. He looked like Jim Carrey if he’d decided to become a computer engineer instead of a comedian.
She looked at the others, and tried not to make some stupid sound to embarrass herself. Some of the guys were hot! They also looked a few years younger than her, and were quietly speaking another language, making it hard to figure out where they might be from. She wondered if they were students of the sort she’d be working with. She certainly hoped so! The rest of the group, mostly female, looked like locals. She recognized the Hispanic girl that was speaking to the instructor from around town – maybe she lived in her neighborhood.
The instructor gave the girl a parting nod. “If you would all take your seats, we can get started,” he declared. Everyone claimed a desk and sat. Tory made sure she grabbed one up front. She knew she was easily distracted and didn’t want to miss anything. She’d brought a notepad from home and even bought a new pen for the occasion. She pulled both out of the backpack she’d brought and set them on her desk.