Page 19 of The Innocent

“Good, how are you guys?”

“We’re great.” Angie shared a look with Ricky, smiling. “Just wanted to invite you out tomorrow night. A bunch of us are hitting a club downtown, and we want you to come.”

Really? “That’s so nice of you to think of me.”

Angie giggled. “Yeah, well, we noticed you don’t go out much, and since you’re new to our little city, we figured we’d show you around. This club is the shit. You’ll love it.”

“Um, sure. That sounds like fun.”

Does it? Going out to a nightclub. She’d been so far out of the loop with social gatherings, she wasn’t even quite sure what to expect. Her father’s case had consumed her life for the last few years. It left little time for anything personal. I can’t even remember the last time I did something fun.

“We gotta make a stop before, but my buddy, Lou, will meet you out front of The Bowery. Sound good?”

They weren’t all going together? They must’ve read her concern. Ricky moved closer.

“Known Lou for years. He’s a cool guy.”

Hmmm. They were meeting in a public place. If she got a bad vibe from him, she could always leave.

“Okay. But um, how will I know Lou if I’ve never met him?”

Angie waved her hand. “Oh, he’s seen you before when he stopped by here. He’ll find you. Ten o’clock.”

“Okay.”

Imogene gave a short wave, and she rushed into the room, grabbing her bag. She’d learned her lesson with traffic and gave herself an extra fifteen minutes from the expected travel time. But nobody could’ve predicted the fender bender two cars ahead of her on Main Street.

By the time she finally made it to the office, she was ten minutes late and feeling the sharp pain of blisters forming on the back of her foot. This was not how she’d wanted the interview to start. She checked in and took a seat near the window.

“I should’ve given myself more time,” she muttered, glancing around the reception area. She was the only one waiting. Hopefully, that was a good sign. Maybe she was the only person applying.

Aside from the library, it had been a while since she’d been on a formal job interview. Seven years? Maybe eight. She wasn’t counting her volunteer work or tutoring.

“Imogene?”

She jerked her head to the woman standing in the doorway. This must be Judy. They’d spoken when she’d set up her interview. She didn’t look happy. Imogene popped up from her seat and rushed forward, extending her hand.

“It’s so nice to meet you, and I’m so sorry I’m late. I’m usually very punctual.”

Judy snorted. “Nobody’s punctual in the city. Come on back.”

Imogene followed her down the dreary hallway. There was zero color or accents to make it appear inviting. It only amped up her anxiety.

Imogene took a seat as Judy rounded her desk. She leaned forward, offering her resume.

Judy knitted her brows and cocked her head. “You sent the resume via email.”

“I just thought you might want a hard copy too for your files.”

Judy chuckled, and grabbed the paper. “Efficient. I like that. It makes up for your tardiness.”

Shoot.

Imogene forced a smile and settled into the chair. She took a deep breath, preparing her sales pitch of her skills.

“Well.” Judy dropped the resume on the desk and folded her hands. “You’re definitely qualified.”

This was a good sign.