Aja thought of her own mother. Hiring teenage nude models. Didn’t people get arrested for that? “No, she’s probably just normal.” Aja sighed and looked away. Wondered how she’d have turned out if she grew up in a real home with a real family.
Walker changed the subject. “You should apply at the nursing home where my grandparents are. They really need help there. Plus, you’d really love all the residents.”
“I don’t think so. I can’t relate to kids or old people.”
“Sure you can. Didn’t you just rescue a kid today?”
“Not the same thing. I didn’t have to wipe drool and snot off her face.” Aja shook her head. “I don’t have what it takes to change diapers—old or young.” She grimaced. “Yuck.”
“Two waitresses quit, so I know you’d get hired for that. No diapers. Maybe a little drool though. Especially when they put their dentures on the table on soup night.”
“Ugh, no thanks.”
“Think about it. You’d be perfect. The residents would love you.” Walker’s phone rang again. He punched the button without even looking at the caller ID.
“Important call?” Aja asked.
Walker got serious and looked at Aja. He sighed and said, “Long story.”
Aja noticed his mood shifted down-gear after the call. “Thanks again for driving me home. I owe you.”
“Hey, my pleasure. It was fun.” Walker stood and threw their cups away. “Maybe we could do it again sometime.”
Aja nodded, hesitant. She was reluctant to get involved with someone who could waylay her plans.
“And I hope you really consider a job at the retirement center. You’d enjoy it.”
“No way.” Aja shook her head emphatically. “Not in a million years.”
Chapter 6
Two days later, after school, Aja sat in the HR office of the Golden Leaves Retirement Community. The director of the home was reviewing her job application. Frustrated, Aja had not been able to find another job at the mall. Her car was chugging and coughing more than ever. She needed money to get the car fixed, or better yet, buy a newer one. And she had to pay back the stolen money.
Plus, every time she was in the mall applying for jobs, she saw a uniformed officer that she feared was keeping an eye on her.
Principal Carlisle had called her mom, telling her that if Aja didn’t finish her assignments she wouldn’t graduate. They were still considering holding her diploma because of her attendance record and would review her file with the school board. He also said Mrs. Dempsey wanted to press charges but hadn’t yet because the counselor, Mrs. Burnett, had given Dumpster Dempsey the money out of her own pocket. Aja needed to pay her back soon, or he’d bring charges against Aja.
Her mom had hung up on Carlisle when he called Aja a bad seed.
Aja could handle the lecture from her mom: “Stealing is never okay and you reap what you sow. You’ll only create bad karma for yourself.” Yada, yada. And it was up to Aja to make it right.Her mother insisted Aja take care of it herself. To get out of karma jail.
So, right now she was hoping to get this stupid job with drooly old people. She’d pay back the money, get a car that worked, and be a beach bum. Who needs college anyway?
“And why did you leave your last job?” Edna Jones, the director of the retirement center asked. She was a roly-poly apple of a woman and Aja saw the colors of her aura as a mix of butterscotch yellow and orange. Aja could often see objects in auras if she stared hard enough and if she focused on one object she’d learn what it meant to that person. It was distracting and got her into trouble a lot with teachers thinking she was spacing out in a daydream. Aja shut down the image immediately before any objects came in to focus. “You were only there two months.”
Aja looked away. “Personal differences.” She watched Edna make some notes.
“Can I call them for a reference?”
Aja shrugged and shook her head. “Probably not.”
“I see,” Edna said, scoring the page with another black mark.
Aja could see her career sliding to continued unemployment forever.
“Aja! I’m glad you decided to apply here.” Walker appeared at the door, his cute face bore a smile that lit the room.
“Walker, sweetie,” Edna blushed a Gala apple red. “Do you know”—Edna looked at the application—“Aja?”
“Yeah, I thought she’d be perfect to work here.” Walker strode into the room and took a seat next to Aja. “Did she tell you why she got fired from Abercrombie?”
Edna’s blush cooled. “Fired?”
Walker nodded. “Yeah, she’s a real hero. Some lady was smacking her kid around, and Aja told her to stop.”
Edna looked over her reading glasses at Aja. “Now why would you get fired for that?”
Aja glanced at Walker. His energy radiated throughout the room. “I guess because I yelled at her.”
“Did you hit her?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Good.” Edna made a few notes. “We can’t have anyone here with a short temper.”
Walker laughed. “She fights for the underdog. She’ll be perfect here.” He squeezed Aja’s arm.
“Do you have any experience working with the elderly?”
“No, ma’am.”
“One must have a great deal of patience,” Edna said. “Our residents need someone to keep up with their pace. Usually slower than what you may be used to.”
“You’ll get to know everybody here. They’ll love you,” Walker said, standing to leave. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll show you around.” He turned to Edna. “I’ll introduce her to everybody. You’re a doll for hiring her.”
Edna blushed again. “I still need to do a background check. But if you recommend her, she must be special.” Edna giggled.
“I highly recommend her.” Walker put his right hand over his heart.
Aja smiled nervously at the mention of a background check and glanced at Walker. He had only met her a few days ago, picked her up as she was running from the law and gave her a ride after she’d been fired from a job. Maybe he wasn’t such a good judge of character. But at least he was cute.
She considered asking Edna if she was interested in taking a drawing class. That poor woman would have died and gone to heaven had she been in her mom’s studio.
“It’s not that hard,” Janie, the woman training Aja in the kitchen said. Janie was probably in her early thirties, had short thick hair, and a warm energy that Aja could practically feel. Her aura was green-hued, nurturing and comforting; filled with hugs. “You ask if they want soup or salad, what kind of dressing, and what they want to eat. Two dinner choices: beef, chicken, or occasionally fish. Sometimes we’ll have pork chops, but when we do most of the residents need them blended to mush. Then you take it to their table.”
Aja tied the apron over her white shirt and black pants she had to use the rest of the stolen money on. The ugly orthopedic-looking shoes she’d found at Payless for under ten bucks were already hurting her feet. She’d better start making some money soon, or she was afraid she’d be looking at the world from behind bars. Her mother would not help pay back the loot. “Karma,” she’d said. “You need to make it right.”
“Drinks are easy,” Janie went on. “Water, juice, coffee, tea. Have you ever been a server?”
“No, this is my first time. I was a hostess at a steak restaurant once.”
“Just don’t drop anything, especially on one of the residents.”
“Okay.”
“This place is like a soap opera. It’s hilarious to see who’s eating with who. It’s worse than high school—they have the popular table and the nerd table.” Janie hoisted a tray of water pitchers. “And everybody gets dressed up for dinner.” She shook her head. “I can barely get dressed up for a date. Come, follow and learn.”
“What did you mean when you said you blend stuff to mush?” Aja asked, trying to keep up with Janie, who was a head shorter than Aja but moved
with quick efficiency.
“A lot of the people here can’t chew their food, so Gabe, the cook, blends it down. Tastes the same, but looks gross.” Janie handed a water pitcher to Aja. “Go fill the water glasses on the tables. Hurry, the line is starting.” Janie nodded to the entrance, where a few people hovered over walkers or on motorized scooters.
Aja took the pitcher and started filling. The dining area was big; tables had linen tablecloths and napkins and were adorned with flower centerpieces. It looked like a nice restaurant. Aja could also sense ghosts of others here but focused on her work to keep her intuitive powers quiet. Her brain could barely deal with her own problems, she didn’t need others in there too.
“Who’s the new girl?” a woman with steel blue hair coifed to a hardened football helmet asked Janie. She wore a red silk dress with lipstick to match. The coral color feathered into the lines around her lips.
“This is Aja. Aja, say hi to Mrs. Poston.”
Aja stood behind Janie and waved. “Hi.”
“I hope you’re better than that last waitress. She was a lazy bore. You’ll have to hop to keep up with this crowd.” Mrs. Poston stood ramrod straight. “And no back talking either. Young people are so impertinent these days.” She looked at Janie. “I’ll have cranberry juice tonight.” She walked to a table in the middle of the room and took her seat.
“I’ll bring it right out, ma’am,” Janie said. She turned to Aja and raised an eyebrow. “Queen Bee. Don’t piss her off. She’ll have the whole place turned against you.”
As soon as Mrs. Poston took her seat, the rest of the crowd shuffled or drove in.
“Janie, have the new girl bring me my drink,” Mrs. Poston called across the room.
Janie poured a wine glass full of juice and handed it to Aja. “Don’t spill a drop. I don’t want to deal with her complaining tonight.”
Aja took the glass in two hands and walked to Mrs. Poston’s table as if she held combustible liquid. Her hands shook as she carefully placed it in front of Mrs. Poston. Not a drop was spilled.
“My right. Put it on the right side of my setting. Don’t you young people have any idea about how to set a proper table?”
Aja leaned over, picked up the glass, and set it next to the water glass. A drop, a mere smidge, plopped onto the white tablecloth. Red seeped into the fibers looking like a crime scene.
Mrs. Poston looked on with a horrified expression as if Aja had just committed a bloody murder on the linen.
“Get me a napkin. Now!” Mrs. Poston pushed back from the table.
“Oh, get over yourself, Bea. You’re going to scare this pretty girl off before she even gets started.” A tall gentleman in beige slacks and a maroon sweater walked to her. He took a cloth napkin from another table and handed it to Mrs. Poston. “Don’t sweat the small stuff, Bea.”
“Hello, Miss, I’m Dr. Brad Landers.” He held a hand out to Aja. “Welcome. I’m sure you’ll do just fine here.”
“Thank you,” she said, shaking his hand. “I’m Aja.”
“Asia?” What kind of name is that?” Mrs. Poston grumped. “You don’t even look Oriental.”
“It’s spelled A-j-a.”
“Oh, like the Steely Dan album?” Dr. Landers asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“You’re named after a record album? That’s dumb.” Mrs. Poston waved spidery fingers in the air.
Dr. Landers winked at Aja, “I’m learning iTunes and will be happy to burn you a CD of some of my favorite music. Steely Dan is high on that list.”
“Evening, Doc, what can I get you to drink tonight?” Janie came up behind Aja.
“Since we’re having chicken, I’ll do white tonight, Janie. Thank you.” He tilted his head and winked.
“Apple juice it is, sir,” Janie said and pulled Aja along with her. “We’ll have it right out.”
Janie took Aja’s arm and dragged her along to the kitchen. “Take Dr. Landers his juice and start asking the others what they want to drink.” She pointed to a tray of pre-made salads. “Find out who wants soup or salad.”
“What if I spill again? This is a tough crowd.”
“You’ll be fine. Before you know it, you’ll know what everybody eats and drinks. They’ll love you.” Janie pushed her to the dining room, which was almost full.
Once Aja got in the rhythm of it, she served the drinks without too many mistakes. Janie had Aja dole out the salads while Janie served hot soup, in case Aja dumped a bowl on someone.
After everyone had been served dinner, Aja and Janie went to the kitchen to cut cakes and pies for dessert. “How did you find out about this job?” Janie asked.
“I met this guy, Walker, who told me about this place needing help.”
“Walker? What a dreamboat.” Janie tasted a finger full of chocolate frosting. “Just don’t get near his girlfriend, Kendall. She’s a piece of work.”
“Oh, he never mentioned her,” Aja said, more disappointed than she would have expected.
Janie paused and wiped chocolate from her face. “I don’t know the whole story with them, but she’s always coming to visit him. I think she lives in the Chicago area.” She stacked the dessert plates on a big tray. “Just be careful with her. She’s the type that would cut you with her claws.” Janie meowed, and scratched the air at Aja. “Come on, let’s get these desserts out before our guests start falling asleep in their plates.”
Aja took a smaller tray of sugar-free apple pie while Janie hefted the platter of chocolate cake. They’d just gotten out the door of the kitchen, and Aja noticed a frail gentleman standing alone near the door.
“Hey, Mr. Jenson. How’s your wife?” Janie set the tray down and said to Aja, “She just had surgery.”
“She came home today,” Mr. Jensen said. His voice was soft and trembled a little. “I was hoping to take some dinner to her.” He held his shaky hands up. “I just can’t cook like she does, and she’s too weak to come to the dining room.”
“Have you eaten today?” Janie asked, concerned.
“No, no. But I’m okay. I’m just worried about my Buttercup.” He smiled wistfully and said to Aja, “That’s what I’ve always called her. She’s my special flower.”
“Let me get some dinner for you both. And I’ll cut an extra big piece of chocolate cake for her. I know it’s her favorite,” Janie said.
“Thank you, love.” Mr. Jensen wearily sat in a chair near the kitchen door.
“China, or whatever your name is,” Mrs. Poston called across the room. “I’m ready for my coffee.”
Janie told Aja to grab the pots of coffee and start pouring. “We’ll get the desserts in a minute. I want to make sure the Jensens have a good dinner. He won’t eat without her, and look how thin he is.” She shook her head. “I hope Mrs. Jensen makes it. She’s been real sick for a long time, and this surgery may be the final straw. If anything happens to her it would crush him.”
Aja took the coffee, being extra careful with the hot liquid, and went to each table, pouring more decaf than regular.
“You’re the new girl?”
“So pretty.”
“You’ll love it here.”
“Oh, you know Walker?”
Everybody had something nice to say to Aja as she went to each table. Except Mrs. Poston. “My coffee’s cold. Get me a fresh cup.”
As Aja poured a fresh cup for Mrs. Poston, Janie came up, holding two covered dishes. “Can you walk Mr. Jensen to his room with these?”
“Sure,” Aja said.
“Why does he get his food to go?” Mrs. Poston griped. “Next thing, we’ll have a drive-through window.” She turned toward Mr. Jenson and yelled, “Steve, you need to get Leigh up walking. That’s the best way to get her back in shape.”
Mr. Jensen slowly walked toward Aja and Mrs. Poston. “She’s just too tired, Bea. We’re going to rest tonight, but thanks for the advice.”
“You shouldn’t mollycoddle her,” Mrs. Poston said. “I’ve had hip surgery, and now
both are titanium and stronger than when I was a teenager.”
Janie rolled her eyes and handed the dishes to Aja.
Aja followed Mr. Jensen out of the dining room. For every one of her steps he’d take three. His body was so thin his pants, belt buckle just below his nipples, still looked like they’d fall off him. The trek was painfully slow, and the hot dishes burned her hands.
Probably sensing her impatience, Mr. Jensen said, “If I had young legs, I’d sprint back to my Buttercup.” He smiled sadly. “How old are you, young lady?”
“Eighteen.”
“Ah, that’s how old my wife was when we met. I took one look at her and was smitten for life.” His shuffle slowed even more. “She’s been my sweetheart ever since.”
Aja couldn’t imagine being with someone for as long as they’d been together. He looked like a thousand years old. “Do you have children?” Aja asked.
“Yes, two daughters and five grandchildren. We’ve been blessed.”
The walk had taken so long the plates had cooled in Aja’s hands; either that or she’d lost feeling in them. The residence complex reminded Aja of a hotel. All the doors opened to an interior hall. Most of the entries had small tables decorated with flowers or photos. Again Aja felt spirits of others, strong, along the decorated corridors but she didn’t want to open her mind to them. Finally, they reached a door adorned with a wood sign that said “Welcome All” on it.
“Here we are,” Mr. Jensen said as he tried to fit the key into the hole, his hand shaking so much he couldn’t hit the target.
The heavy dishes strained Aja’s arms. Anytime, dude.
After a few tries, Mr. Jensen got the key in the tumbler, opened the door, and they went in. “Buttercup, I’m home,” he called out.
Aja followed him in and was shocked to see a wisp of a woman reclining, eyes closed, in a lounge chair. Aja feared they were too late and she was already dead. The small apartment smelled of old people and medicine.
Mr. Jensen went to her and said, “Janie got you an extra big piece of chocolate cake.” The woman didn’t move. “Let me get you upright, Buttercup.” He struggled with the recliner. Aja stood, holding the dishes, not sure what to do. She was tempted to call 911.
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