Out of Order. Barbara Dunlop

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ scanning for anything else that was promising. Not much to choose from. She sighed and dropped the felt pen. “Compared to me, even Joyce Vinton is a success story.”

      “I heard she’s doing makeup parties in Boise now.”

      “See what I mean? What was it we voted her in high school?”

      “‘Most likely to be photographed with snakes.”’

      Shelby shook her head, fighting a grin. “We were so crude.”

      “That we were, Miss Most Likely To Marry Money More Than Once.”

      “I’m still waiting for the first time.” Shelby scanned down the column of want ads one more time, just in case. “Think I’d make a good custodian?”

      “Bad choice.”

      “They get to work nights.”

      “If you want to marry money, you need to hang around rich guys.”

      “Neil was rich. Look where that got me.”

      “Neil was a slimeball, and the Terra Suma lounge was a dive.”

      “He pulled in thousands of dollars a night.”

      “And blew it all on expensive liquor and horse racing.” Allison had had enough e-mails and phone calls from Shelby over the past year to know about Neil’s shortcomings.

      “Well, that’s true enough.” Shelby had to agree.

      “You need a job that puts you in contact with classy guys.”

      “Balloon deliveries?”

      Allison sat up straight and her eyes lit up. “I know.”

      “What?”

      “I can get you a job.”

      Shelby shook her head. “You will not. You’ve done enough already.”

      Shelby was determined to take control of her own life. And, she still had her pride. Of course, that was only because they hadn’t strip searched her yesterday.

      Allison didn’t give up. “But, it’s a great—”

      “No,” said Shelby with another firm shake of her head. “Whatever I do, whatever I decide, it’s going to be me this time, just me.”

      Allison stood up and went for the phone. “Let me give Greg a quick call.”

      Shelby jumped up from her chair. She scooted across the room and scooped the phone from Allison’s hand. “You’re not baby-sitting me anymore. Bad enough that you’re giving me a roof over my head.”

      Allison grinned and cocked her head to one side. “Thought you said you were kicking in for rent.”

      Shelby backed away, clutching the phone to her chest. “Of course I am.” She glanced down at the newspaper. “Just as soon as I get the balloon delivery job.”

      Allison took a few steps forward. “That’ll be nothing but slimy men ogling your legs and pulling you into their laps. How’re you going to meet anybody decent?”

      Shelby gave a little shudder. She’d fended off plenty of hands in her cocktail waitress job. She didn’t particularly look forward to it again. “Okay, I’ll take the job at the diner.”

      Allison turned the paper so it was facing her and read the circled ads. Then she looked back up at Shelby, raising her eyebrows. “You? Get up at 5:00 a.m.? I don’t think so,” she scoffed.

      “Then I’ll be a custodian. They work nights.”

      Allison made a face. “Scrubbing urinals?”

      Shelby felt her own expression crumple into one of distaste.

      “After last night,” said Allison. “Greg owes me big time.”

      “He owes you, not me.”

      “Yeah, but he’s got nothing I want for me.” She paused. “Well, except for the obvious.”

      Shelby smiled. “His heart. His soul. And everything he owns or ever will own?”

      “Exactly. But those came with the ring. I need something more before I’m ready to forgive him. And I happen to know that they need a new receptionist at Turnball, Williams and Smith.”

      Shelby shrank back and shook her head. “Uh-uh.” She was not about to let Allison exploit her fiancé to get her a job.

      “Day shift,” said Alison. “Office opens at eight-thirty.”

      Shelby steeled herself against the temptation. She was making it on her own. If nothing else, for the sake of her ego. She was twenty-five years old, and her life was bordering on pathetic.

      “Air-conditioned in the summer, heated in the winter,” sang Allison.

      “I’m doing this myself.”

      “Classy clients. Rich, classy clients.”

      “I have my pride.”

      “Regular breaks, medical benefits and a pension plan.”

      Shelby gritted her teeth. This was cruel and unusual temptation. With a job like that, she wouldn’t be pathetic. She might even be successful.

      “Coffee bar on the main floor,” said Allison.

      Shelby felt herself weaken.

      Obviously sensing victory, Allison held out her hand for the phone, wiggling her fingers. “Frappino’s. Mochaccinos every day of the week.”

      That did it. Shelby groaned and handed over the phone. “Fine. Exploit away.”

      Not that she expected Greg to say yes. He’d be crazy to hire her. She didn’t know the first thing about being a classy receptionist. But she’d sleep better at night if he turned her down, instead of her thumbing her nose at the job of a lifetime and then wondering forever what might have been.

      Allison took the phone, waving it around for emphasis. “It’s not exploitation. It’s not even nepotism. Any job placement agency will tell you to use your contacts. And I’m your contact in Chicago. Use me.”

      “Make sure you tell him I don’t know the first thing about being a receptionist.”

      Allison grinned as she punched in a number and lifted the phone to her ear. “I won’t lie. Greg Smith, please.”

      Shelby’s stomach tightened into a knot.

      “Hey, how hard can it be?” asked Allison. “You answer a few phone calls, greet a few clients, file a few folders. You do know the alphabet, right?”

      “I still sing it inside my head.”

      Allison СКАЧАТЬ