Page 30 of Going Deep (Odyssey #3)

Ginger reached for another breadstick. “ There’s no way I’m qualified for this job.”

“You’ve got a master’s degree,” Anna began.

“And half a dozen years of teaching experience.” Ginger waved the breadstick in the air. “ But no administrative experience, no community organizing. It’s wild that they even called me in for an interview.”

Anna frowned. “ Then , why did they?”

Understanding flashed in Lola’s eyes. “ Because Michael told them to.”

Anna’s eyes went bug-wide. “ Michael did?”

“She’s not caught up,” Lola said to Ginger .

“Fill her in, will you?” Ginger laid down her breadstick and slid off her chair. “ And if the server comes back, order me a cheeseburger. I need to pee.”

She headed to the bathroom and took care of business. When she got back to the table, there was a fresh basket of breadsticks, a glass of water next to her wine, and pretty olives in a bowl.

“Your burger is on its way,” Lola informed her when she sat down. “ Want an olive?”

“Sure.” Ginger plucked one from the bowl and popped it in her mouth. “ All caught up?”

Anna nodded. “ Are you going to do the interview?”

“I want to. I’ve been researching the Center , what they do, how they work, and I really would love to work there in some capacity.” Ginger frowned. “ I have to be honest with Miriam —she's the director—about my qualifications. Or in this case, the lack of them.”

“What about your connection to Michael ?”

“That’s trickier. I don’t know what he’s told her.”

Lola pursed her lips. “ Yeah , that’s delicate. You don’t want to confess to banging the boss if she doesn’t already know.”

Ginger winced at banging the boss . “ Exactly .”

“Why didn’t he just tell you he owns the place?” Anna wondered.

“Probably for the same reason she didn’t tell him she knows he owns the place,” Lola said.

“Why was that again?”

“I honestly don’t remember,” Ginger said, brooding into her wine again. “ I wish I had. I wouldn’t be in this mess.”

“Well, you are, so you have to deal with it.”

Ginger rolled her eyes at Lola . “ Gee , thanks.”

“You could tell him now,” Anna suggested.

“What, just, ‘hey, by the way, Sir , I know you’re a Killingsworth and I have all along’? Yeah , I’m sure that’ll go over well.”

Anna winced. “ Okay , don’t do that. Maybe tell him you found out while you were doing research for your interview? You know, you were digging into the foundation and found his name somehow.”

Lola shook her head. “ You two are something else.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to find a solution to this mess.”

“Not you two,” Lola corrected Anna . “ Them two. Ginger and Michael , a couple of dorks caught in the same stupid lie.”

“It’s not a lie,” Ginger protested. “ It’s a…deception.”

“What do you think a lie is?” Lola asked, amused.

“He’s the one who never shares anything personal,” Ginger protested.

“Have you ever asked him anything personal?” Lola countered.

“That’s…not the point.”

“It might be a little bit of the point,” Anna said gently.

“Can we get back to my interview?” Ginger said, exasperated.

“Fine. Are you going or not?”

“I’m going. First , because I just spent three hours shopping for the perfect outfit?—”

“And found it,” Anna interjected.

“Thank you. And second, because even though I’m definitely not qualified for this job, I like the Center and might want to work there someday.”

“Making professional contacts is always a good idea,” Anna agreed.

“And third,” Ginger said, then realized she didn’t have a third.

“It’s good practice?” Anna offered.

“Thank you, Anna . It’s good practice,” Ginger finished, then slumped in her chair. “ Of course, it’ll still be a disaster.”

“Maybe, maybe not.”

Ginger eyed Lola . “ What does that mean?”

“What if they offer you the job?”

“They won’t,” Ginger said. “ I told you, I’m not qualified.”

“But the guy who owns the place told them to interview you.”

Anna gasped. “ Do you think he told them to hire her, no matter what?”

Lola shrugged. “ It doesn’t seem like Michael’s style, but I don’t know him well enough to say for sure. Do you?”

Anna thought for a moment, then shook her head. “ I don’t. Grant probably does, but I don’t.”

Ginger looked at her friends. “ You can’t ask them.”

“No, we can’t,” Lola said, and Anna nodded her agreement. “ They’re the ‘ Doms before dames’ type, they’ll go running to Michael with it.”

“Doms before dames?” Anna echoed.

“Less misogynistic than ‘bros before hoes’,” Lola explained.

“Not very inclusive, though,” Anna mused, frowning. “ Not all Doms are men, and not all submissives are women.”

“Simon couldn’t find a D word that included all submissives, and he really wanted the alliteration.”

“There must be one,” Anna said, frowning in concentration. “ What about diminutives?”

“Can we maybe worry about the fucking alliteration later?” Ginger asked impatiently.

“Sorry, sorry.” Anna cleared her throat and darted a look at Lola .

“What?”

“You started this,” Anna muttered. “ Fix it.”

Lola rolled her eyes. “ Okay , so we can’t ask the boys if buying Ginger a job is something Michael would do.”

“Buying me a job.” Ginger wanted to tear her hair out, but bald was a bad look for a job interview. “ What the fuck is he thinking?”

“We don’t know that’s what he’s doing,” Lola pointed out logically. “ It’s just a theory. The question is, would you take it?”

Ginger looked up. “ What ?”

“What are you doing?” Anna whispered.

“I want to know,” Lola told her, then looked back at Ginger . “ If it turns out he is buying you a job, this job, would you take it?”

Ginger just stared for a moment. “ This job? No . I’m not qualified for it, I couldn’t do it.”

“What if you could?” Lola continued, ignoring Anna’s frantic hissing. “ What if it was a job you could do, that you were qualified for? Would you take it then?”

“Sure.”

Anna stopped hissing to stare. “ Really ?”

Ginger looked at her. “ Why not? If I’m qualified for it, and I’m good at it, and I keep the job based on how well I do the job…hell yes, I’d take it.”

“What if it paid a million dollars a year?”

“It wouldn’t.”

“He’s the boss,” Lola reminded her. “ He can pay whatever he wants.”

“Why are you giving me ethical conundrums?” Ginger wailed. “ I’ve been shopping, I’m hungry, I’m half in love with a jackass who can’t even tell me he’s arranging job interviews for me. Haven’t I suffered enough?”

“You’re in love with him?” Anna demanded.

“Half,” Ginger emphasized.

“Because I want to know,” Lola asked, ignoring Anna . “ Would you let him pay you a million dollars for a job that should pay, say, eighty thousand?”

“No, I’d make him pay me eighty thousand for the job and give me the other nine hundred and twenty thousand as a tax-free gift,” Ginger snapped.

Lola laughed. “ Okay , then.”

“Um, you can’t take that much as a tax-free gift,” Anna put in. “ Also , can we go back to you being in love with him?”

“Half,” Ginger insisted, and sighed with relief when the server appeared with her cheeseburger. “ Oh , thank God . I’m starving.”

Anna waited until meals had been distributed and the server had left, then picked up her fork and dug into her pasta. “ Can I ask a question?”

Since Ginger already had a mouthful of cheeseburger, she just waved a hand.

“When all this comes out—you knowing Michael’s a Killingsworth , him wrangling the job interview for you, you being half in love with him—and I call bullshit on the half part—can I be there to watch?”

“Me too, me too!” Lola said eagerly, waving her hand in the air.

Since her mouth was full, Ginger just shot her friends the middle finger and kept eating.

* * *

The interview the following morning started out pretty much the way Ginger had expected. It didn’t end that way.

She knew from her research that Miriam Glass was in her mid-fifties, but the only evidence of it was the streak of silver in her otherwise black hair. She had smooth brown skin, a wide, welcoming smile, and thickly lashed brown eyes that gleamed with intelligence.

She wore a dress of sunshine yellow, fitted and sleeveless, showing off strong arms and a curvy figure. Her high-heeled sandals matched the dress, and the toes peeking out were the same in-your-face red as her lips.

“It’s a pleasure you meet you, Ginger ,” she said warmly, those brown eyes blatantly assessing. “ Thank you for coming.”

“The pleasure’s mine,” Ginger said, struggling for calm as they shook hands. “ I’m sure you’re very busy, so I appreciate you taking the time for me.”

“It’s no trouble,” Miriam said easily, and stepped back. “ I thought we’d begin with a tour of the Center , if that’s all right with you.”

“I’d like that,” Ginger said, and hoped it would give her a chance to steady.

It didn’t.

The more they walked, and the more Miriam talked—about the Center and how it worked, and about the new educational initiatives they hoped to implement—the more despondent Ginger became.

Because she really wanted to work there, but it was painfully obvious to her that she was not the right person for this job.

At the end of the tour, when they were back in the main lobby, Miriam turned to her with a smile. “ Do you have any questions before we go into my office?”

Ginger took a deep breath. “ I do have one, yes. Why did you ask me to interview for this position?”

One delicately arched eyebrow rose. “ I’m sorry?”

“I apologize for being blunt, Ms . Glass? —”

“Please, call me Miriam .”

“Miriam,” Ginger repeated. “ But this job, the Director of…”

“Supplemental Education ,” Miriam supplied.

“I’m not qualified for it,” Ginger said, “and we both know it. So why am I here?”

Miriam was quiet for a moment, then she nodded once. “ I think you probably know the answer to that.”

“I think I do,” Ginger said, disappointment a sick weight in her belly. “ And I’m very sorry to have wasted your time.”

Miriam ignored the hand Ginger held out. “ I’m curious, Ginger . If you knew you weren’t qualified, why did you come?”

Ginger let her hand fall back to her side. “ Because I like what you’re doing here, and I’d like to be a part of it. And ,” she added wryly, “ I need a job.”

Miriam nodded. “ I see.”

“But I won’t take one I can’t do,” she went on.

Miriam tilted her head slightly, a martial light coming into her deep brown eyes. “ I wouldn’t offer you one you couldn’t do.”

Ginger smiled. “ No , I don’t guess you would.”

“Would you like to come back into my office and talk, Ginger ?”

Ginger shook her head. “ I don’t understand.”

“I agree you aren’t qualified for the position of director,” Miriam began. “ But whoever is will need a capable assistant. Someone with a background in education, someone bright and willing to learn.”

“Yes, I suppose they would,” Ginger said faintly.

“I’d like to talk to you about that position, if you’re interested.”

“I think I’m very interested,” Ginger said, trying to maintain a professional smile instead of grinning like a fool.

Miriam’s eyes twinkled with an amusement that told her she’d only been partly successful.

“Right this way, then,” Miriam said, and led the way down a long hallway. “ Would you like water, or coffee? Our café does a very nice mocha latte.”

Ginger smiled. “ That sounds lovely.”