Page 84 of The Monster I Am
“I’d be a fun ghost though,” I argue. “Boss level hide and seek.”
“I’m glad we didn’t end you then,” Tai says with a chuckle. “For many reasons.”
Handing the phone back to him, Ry flashes his light around the tunnel. “The blueprints didn’t cover this area. But assuming it leads to Ridgeview’s center, we should be nearly there.”
“Let’s keep going then,” I say, determined.
We continue walking, Tai checking his screen regularly. Finally, the tunnel starts to narrow, and suddenly we find our path blocked by a large metal door.
I stroll past the group, examining it with Rylan. “It needs a key or something,” I murmur, running my fingers over the smooth, cold material. “There’s a hole here by the look of it.”
Rylan brings his light up. “Definitely new. Barely any scratches on the lock.”
“Shit,” I mumble. “Anyone want to try their hand at picking it?”
“No point,” Ry grumbles frustratedly. “It looks like a multi-point locking system. Probably two or three rods securing it. Even if we pick the lock, we don’t have any tools to slide the pins back.”
I sigh. “Well, at least we found the end of the tunnel. Tai, do we have a location?”
He doesn’t answer immediately, and for a brief second, I start to panic. But the man is suddenly illuminated by several flashlights, a somber expression on his face.
“Yeah,” he answers, locking eyes with Rylan. “We’re directly under the mayor’s office.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Bexley
“Amazing. Thank you, Bexley. And now, my last question—Why should we hire you?”
Don’t say because you want money. Don’t say it. Don’t say it.
Social media has officially ruined me because as I smile unnaturally, to the point of creepily, at the only-slightly older woman, my brain is stuck in malfunction mode, replaying Tiktok skits. You know… those videos where people are way too brutally honest in interviews?
We allknowwe only work to be able to afford things like toilet paper and the good sliced cheese but no one wants to hear that. This is where I’m supposed to grin maniacally and say this is my dream job, that I’d sell my organs on the black market for. Who needs two kidneys, right?
Yet… lying doesn’t come easily. It should in all honesty, but apparently any skills I possess when it comes to the art of fibbing is only reserved for instances where I’m avoiding conversations about my emotions or confrontations with glorified assholes.
“I—,” I hesitate, full panic setting in. Fuck. I should have prepared better. I was just too distracted by the fact I even got an interview in the first place that I celebrated prematurely.
You’re an idiot, Bexley. Celebrations are for joboffers. Not jobinterviews.
I’m horribly aware I’m still smiling like a dickhead in complete silence while Hazel waits patiently for my brain to come back into the building. Maybe she’s used to this. Though, if I’mnormalby interview standards, I dread picturing what she has to deal with. But I guess if you’re getting paid to handle mental breakdowns during interviews, at least you’re still getting money.
Finally, I just blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “I really love coffee. No, likereally. If I had to choose between giving up air or the sweet bean of life, I’m holding my breath forever.”
Well… At least I’m hilarious. Surely that will win me some brownie points and help me stand out.
Hazel blinks a few times before bursting out laughing. She scribbles a note on the paperwork in front of her, still smiling. “I actually can’t drink it anymore. The smell and demanding customers have permanently ruined me.”
“In that case, I formally rescind my interest in the role,” I joke. “I’m kidding by the way. Please hire me.”
I’m not sure if I’m funny or pathetic at this point. Maybe a bit of both. Either way, Hazel seems to be vibing with me so I take that as a positive sign.
“The hours vary but you wrote in your application that you’ll be graduating soon,” she comments. “Mornings are pure chaos. If you’re open to hours before school, that would be helpful. Otherwise weekend shifts can be a real pain to fill.”
I nod eagerly. “I’ll do both. Honestly, I’m not fussy. Anything you can give me outside of academy hours.”
Hazel rests the pen on the table, a warm smile beaming back at me. “I think you’ll fit in well here. Can you start on Saturday?”
