Stephanie Bond – Real Men: Rugged Rebels: Watch and Learn / Under His Skin / Her Perfect Hero (страница 9)
FROM THE OUTSIDE, the employment agency looked less than promising, wedged into a storefront in a shabby strip mall between a sandwich shop and a check-cashing joint. She hesitated before pushing open the door but forced herself to keep moving. The middle-aged woman behind the piled-high desk was on the phone, but waved for Gemma to come in. Her sharp, appraising glance left Gemma feeling as if she’d missed the mark with her prim outfit.
“You scare off everyone I send over there,” the woman barked into the mouthpiece. “Up the hourly rate and I’ll see what I can do.” She banged down the phone, then turned toward Gemma. “What can I do for you?”
Gemma considered saying she was at the wrong address, but the image of the bills accumulating on her kitchen table was a stark reminder that she’d already put off this day for too long. “I’m Gemma Wh—er, Jacobs. I have an appointment.”
The woman jammed on reading glasses and consulted a large wall calendar. “Yeah, there you are.” She gave Gemma a flat smile. “I’m Jean Pruett. Have a seat, honey.”
Gemma glanced at the mismatched chair opposite the desk that was filled with stacks of papers.
“Just set those on the floor.”
She did, then lowered herself onto the edge of the chair.
“So, what kind of work are you looking for?” Jean asked without preamble.
“Preferably something in the art field. My degree is in art history.”
Jean winced. “What’s your work experience?”
Gemma shifted in the stiff chair. “In college I was in work-study programs with local museums—cataloguing and preservation.”
“I meant lately.”
“Oh. Lately I’ve been involved in charity work mostly, fund-raising, that sort of thing.”
“I see. Do you have computer skills?”
Gemma brightened. “I have a computer at home.” A castoff from Jason, which she’d never turned on.
“Do you know how to work with spreadsheets, databases or Web design programs?”
“Er … no.”
“Do you have a teaching certificate?”
“No.”
“Speak a second language?”
“I took a Spanish class … in high school.” Which only made her think of Chev Martinez.
Jean sighed. “I’m sorry, Miss Jacobs, but unless you can give me something more concrete, I’m afraid I don’t have anything for you.”
Gemma felt the flutter of panic in her stomach. She didn’t want to rely on Sue or Jason’s contacts to find employment. “Surely there must be something.”
“Most of the jobs I fill are temporary, either short-term or a few days here and there. They require either specific qualifications, or no qualifications at all, meaning the jobs aren’t very desirable. And I can see from your appearance—”
“Try me,” Gemma said.
Jean looked dubious, but turned to her computer and clicked on the keyboard for several long minutes. “Something in the art field, you say?”
“Do you have an opening?”
Jean named the art museum that Gemma had called the previous day about the executive assistant position. “They’re looking for tour guides—”
“I’ll take it.”
Jean pursed her mouth. “It does pay pretty well for a part-time position. And it says chances are good it will become full-time. Can you start today?”
“Absolutely.”
“Good. Um, there’s only one catch….”
“A SEX EXHIBIT?” Sue asked with a laugh.
“The History of Sex,” Gemma corrected into her cell phone. She checked her side mirrors, feeling self-conscious, as if someone might have witnessed her debut tour and be following her home. Thank goodness the employment agency had promised that her personal information would remain confidential, and she didn’t have to wear a name tag.
“Do I even want to know what’s on display?” Sue asked.
“Let’s just say that no one under the age of twenty-one is admitted. And the tours are by reservation only.”
“Ooh, sounds intriguing. Do you get to play show-and-tell?”
“Uh … that’s one way to put it, I suppose.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Gemma sighed. “There are … costumes.”
“Costumes? You mean uniforms, like flight attendants?”
“Only if the flight attendants work for Incognito Playboy Airlines.”
“Oh? Do tell.”
Gemma squirmed. “The guides have to wear sexy costumes.”
Silence. Then, “Well, you certainly have the figure for it.”
“And Lone Ranger masks.”
Silence again, followed by, “But that could be a good thing, yes?”
“Considering that I’d rather not be recognized as the ex-wife of the state attorney general, yeah. Jason would be mortified if this got out. The press would crucify him.”
“I don’t plan to tell anyone,” Sue said. “Do you?”
“No.” Gemma worked to keep her voice casual. “Have you talked to him?”
“As a matter of fact, I ran into him today in the lobby of the capitol building.”
Gemma closed her eyes, hating herself for caring but unable to resist asking, “How is he?”
“Fine. He’s fine, Gemma.”
In the awkward pause that followed, Gemma sensed that Sue wasn’t being honest with her. Had Jason met someone else? Or had there been someone else all along?
“Have you seen your new neighbor lately?” Sue asked in a blatant attempt to change the subject.
Gemma’s thighs warmed as the image of Chev slid into her mind. She spoke carefully. “I saw him this morning as I was leaving. He chased away a peacock that was blocking my driveway.”
“A peacock? Where on earth did that come from?”
“I have no idea. Chev says they’re wild.”
“Chev?”
“Er, that’s his name. Chev Martinez.”
“Sounds exotic. Is he Mexican?”
“Puerto Rican, I believe he said.”
“I had a Latin lover once,” Sue said with a sigh. “He was heavenly in bed.”
Gemma squirmed. “That’s nice. And completely irrelevant to this conversation.”