In the Details

by H. Claire Taylor

  “I did that to you for years when you were on the team. I didn’t even know that’s what I was doing, but it was. I and the rest of the team, we failed to get the job done. We half-assed it so many times. And guess who we had to fall back on to finish the job and win us the game? The sole woman. I am guilty of perpetuating the unhealthy cycle of expecting women to get the job done while men get all the glory, and I can’t change that—”

  “You don’t have to, it’s—”

  “But I need you to know I acknowledge my mistake, my ignorance, and I see you.” He set a fat hand on Jessica’s cheek. “I see you. And I promise not to let it happen again.”

  She nodded then said, “Did you hear that?”

  “Huh?”

  “I think they were calling for you in there.”

  Rex straightened. “Oh, I’d better go help. Can’t leave it up to your mother.”

  He took one step and Jessica quickly said, “Rex?”

  “Yeah?”

  “One of the cops, she’s a woman. Maybe don’t say much around her.”

  His eyebrows pinched together, but he nodded. “Whatever you say. I trust your opinion over my own on this.”

  “Great.”

  Once he was gone, she inhaled deeply and made up her mind that it was definitely time to take up smoking.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Getting the cops out of the way before she flipped the open sign felt like a victory in and of itself. There was no doubt someone had seen them outside and she’d have to answer inquiries about it (or rather, direct them to Wendy), but she had enough now problems on her hands to forget about the later ones.

  Without being asked, Rex had already called his assistant coaches and asked them to run practice for him, allowing him a couple hours to help out with setup before he had to go teach world geography and art. After explaining in detail how he’d come to realize the ridiculousness of viewing the kitchen as a woman’s domain when the creation of sustenance should be a genderless pursuit, Jessica assigned him to watch the ovens, plate what was ready, and, once Jessica could miracle it, bring it out to Destinee, who was managing the front of house on her own temporarily.

  Would she shout at a customer or two for complaining something wasn’t cooked enough or that what she gave them wasn’t what they’d ordered? No doubt. But Jessica had felt compelled to make an important phone call since Quentin first mentioned hiring new employees, and now that the stalker situation had settled, she could finally make it.

  Granted, it was months overdue, but if she’d called before … No, she’d been too ashamed.

  “I thought I’d hear from you soon,” said Dr. Bell airily as she answered the call. “Actually, I thought I’d hear from you much sooner, given the circumstances.”

  “Yep. That’s what I’m calling about.”

  “Of course it is. I’m terrible conversation for other topics. Why did you wait so long, Jessica?”

  She sighed, leaning on her elbow on the shelf by the phone. “I wanted to fix things first.”

  “And have you?”

  “Kinda.”

  “I’m impressed you can even say that. You got royally fleeced by those three men.”

  Jessica sighed. It had been almost three months since Kumal, Dwayne, and Sampson had disappeared, and time had done little to lessen her desire to see each get hit by a particularly smelly garbage truck. “You’re not lying. Wait. How did you know about that?”

  “You’re not the only one with my phone number, you know.”

  Spies. Someone close to her had been reporting back to her former professor. “Who was it?”

  “Doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re finally calling for my advice, right?” Static hit the phone line and Jessica guessed Dr. Bell was outside, probably walking across the Texas State campus to her office.

  “Yeah.”

  “Have you hired new people?”

  “No.”

  “Hire new people.”

  Jessica rolled her eyes. She’d had a feeling this was what would happen. As if it were that simple. “I’m still behind on the bills. How can I add more people to the payroll?”

  “That’s a complicated question, but to start, I’d say cut costs and increase profits.”

  “I’ve increased profits. I don’t know where to cut costs.”

  Dr. Bell spoke away from the phone and the words were muddled, but Jessica knew they weren’t for her anyway. “Then start looking for places to cut costs. And if you need help with that, I’m happy to go over it with you.”

  “Okay, but how do I make sure the people I hire next aren’t going to be awful like the ones before?”

  “I’d say you start by vetting them yourself. Your mother said that— I mean, um, I heard— oh screw it. I’ve been keeping contact with your mother. I might as well tell you because what are you going to do about it? She said you let Dolores Thomas do the hiring for you, is that right?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Mind me asking why in your Father’s name you would allow—yes, Jerry, thank you”—the wind cut out but now her voice was drowned out by a chorus of other echoing voices—“why in your Father’s name would you allow someone else to make that decision for you?”

  “She’s an investor,” Jessica said, “and I’ve always trusted her. I figured it was in her best interest to help me hire the best possible people to run the business she had put so much of her own money into.”

  “Mm-hmm.”

  “What?”

  “I’m not a fan of ‘figuring’ when it comes to business practice.” A door shut, and the background noise stopped. “It sounds like she hired the worst people for the job, why do you figure that is?”

  Jessica sighed. “I figure it seems that way because I have no clue how to be a boss. I just gave them the tasks and expected them to know how to do them the way I wanted.” The words began tumbling out. “I was just so relieved to have help after being so overwhelmed that I wanted to be able to hand off the tasks and forget about them so I could focus on doing a few things well instead of everything terribly. I should have known better, and I probably did deep down, but I was stupid about it and it’s my fault things turned out the way they did.”

  She waited for Dr. Bell to jump in immediately, to congratulate Jessica on taking responsibility. Maybe she even hoped Dr. Bell would agree with her assessment that everything was her fault, but that didn’t happen.

  Instead, the angel said, “Who told you it was your fault?”

  “What?”

  “I’m just curious who suggested it was your fault. That doesn’t seem like the immediate place a person’s mind would go after being scammed by con men if not actual demons. It wasn’t your mother who suggested it, obviously. She’d break the jaw of anyone who tried to blame you for what those men did. So, who was it?”

  “No one. I just realized—”

  “It was Dolores, wasn’t it?”

  “No,” Jessica snapped. “Well, she did suggest that I should have kept a better eye on them.”

  “And she was right,” Dr. Bell added. “A boss ought to check in with her employees frequently. But that doesn’t make their gross errors in judgment and blatant crimes your fault. You know, I believe that if you’d hired them yourself, you would have felt more in charge and empowered to check in with them regularly, telling them what to do, and how to do it. I understand Dolores has been a boss for years; she should understand that basic rule of ownership.”

  “Oh, Dr. Bell. They were awful. They wouldn’t even let me train them! They said they already knew everything I told them.”

  “Then they’re assholes. Might I suggest something for this time around?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “Do the hiring yourself. And only hire angels.”

  Jessica opened her mouth to speak, but she wasn’t sure what to say. How would she make sure of that? The logistics began spinning in her mind, then another pressing question surfaced. “Isn’t th
at discrimination?”

  “Oh, it would absolutely be discrimination if the laws knew to address that specific distinction, but lucky for us, lawmakers are rarely aware of angels, so few being them and so few of those understanding what they are. Regardless, there’s no way to be prosecuted for it, so you might as well do it. You already know angels will naturally feel inclined to serve you and your interests. Think about it.”

  She did. “Yeah, I guess Quentin did spend all night over here helping me pay bills and update my spreadsheets.”

  “There you go,” said the professor. “Now, that doesn’t mean every angel is necessarily going to do exactly what you say, how you say it. We’re not mind readers, and, as you’ve found out, Dolores is an angel but clearly puts her own interests above yours.”

  The assertion didn’t sit right. Mrs. Thomas had made a mistake, shown a lapse in judgment, but to say she’d put her own interests above Jessica’s? That didn’t add up. “That’s the thing, though,” Jessica said. “It can’t be that because we’re working toward the same goal with the bakery, and that’s to keep it open. It must be that she just messed up. Or maybe they were great workers for her husband’s campaign, and they suddenly stopped being honest.”

  “Jessica,” Dr. Bell said softly. “Listen to yourself. You think all three men went through an identity crisis at the same time as soon as they worked for you? Why are you trying so hard to exonerate them?”

  “Because the alternative doesn’t make any sense either. I made Mrs. Thomas my scapegoat right after it happened, blamed her for everything, even … I’m embarrassed to even admit it.”

  “You thought she might have done it on purpose?”

  “Yes! And that’s ridiculous! She’s an angel, and she’s always done everything in her power to help me. And then she messes up once and suddenly my mind goes to the worst possible scenario? How horrible does that make me? And then I spoke with her and it all made more sense. I was really just upset with myself for being such an easy dupe. Nothing new there. Jimmy’s known that about me for years. Instead of admitting that hadn’t changed, I’d imagined Mrs. Thomas in the most horrible light just to keep from admitting the unpleasant truth that I am horrible at being a boss, and that’s a real problem if I want to run a business.”

  There was silence on the other end, and Jessica wondered if Dr. Bell had hung up. But then the angel said, “You’re not a fool, Jessica. You’re a twenty-two-year-old. Jimmy has years of practice and a lack of conscience that allow him to pull the nonsense he does. And being a boss takes practice. Lots of it. So don’t beat yourself up. If Dolores was expecting you to be the world’s best one without any guidance on how to go about doing that, she was setting you up for failure, plain and simple.”

  “But why on earth would she do that? She must be working toward the same goal as me, right? So, the only conclusion is that she made an honest mistake.”

  “Maybe,” conceded Dr. Bell, but it sounded more like a no. “You know, I would still like to see the contract the two of you signed. I know I’ve asked for it quite a few times, but somehow I still haven’t seen it in my inbox. You have it though, right?”

  “Yeah,” Jessica said. Because of course she did. She’d asked Mrs. Thomas for it nearly half a dozen times. “It’s probably in my inbox or texts.”

  “Great. Will you send it to me now?”

  Agitation prickled at Jessica’s neck. “I’ll do it once I’m off the phone.”

  “I’d prefer you do it now. I’d like a chance to look it over before my first class today.”

  The relief Jessica had felt at the start of the conversation was overcome by a petulance she was all too familiar with but was normally directed toward her Father. “Fine. Let me grab the laptop.” She flopped over to the laptop and brought it back to her seat. First, her internet was running slow. “Just one second. This stupid cable company charges me for high speed and doesn’t believe me when I say they’re underdelivering.” Then, she opened her business email and searched for Mrs. Thomas’s address in her inbox. “Nothing in this one. I’ll have to open up my personal one, and I don’t even remember the password for that.”

  “Ah, yes. I know the struggle all too well,” said Dr. Bell patiently.

  Really? She was going to sit and wait for this? Ugh. It was not what Jessica wanted to be doing right now.

  She went to the login page of her personal account and clicked the recover password option. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  She stared down at the confirmation message. “The recover password was sent to my old personal account. I’m not even sure that one still exists, so I’ll have to see if I can even recover it.”

  “Sounds frustrating. Why don’t you just call Dolores and ask her for it again?”

  “Fine. But not right now. It’s been a long night, I didn’t get any sleep, and I have to get going on work before my mom runs off too many customers.”

  “Okay, okay,” Dr. Bell said. “What time should I text you later to remind you to send it?”

  Was she for real? “I dunno. I’m going to be here until close, then I’ll have to clean and prep, then I’ll probably want to go straight home and crash out.”

  “Okay, so like, nine? Ten?”

  Her stomach was knotting, but that could have been from too much coffee and not enough food. “Ten. Sure. Thanks.”

  “Of course, Jessica. I’ll text you tonight and then I can look over the contract before bed.”

  They said their goodbyes, and Jessica set her phone down onto the table just a little too hard.

  What was the point of that call? She’d hoped to feel better after it, but she’d just felt more annoyed. Something was nagging at her that she hadn’t yet figured out.

  YOU DON’T HAVE THE CONTRACT.

  What?

  SHE NEVER SENT IT TO YOU.

  For fuck’s sake! Stop going through my emails!

  NEVER.

  So I have to call her and ask her to send it again? I’m going to look like such an asshole.

  INDEED.

  And did you go through my texts as well?

  YES.

  Stop it! Shit. Don’t I get some privacy?

  YES, YOU DO. IN THE BATHROOM. THE LORD DARE NOT TREAD THERE.

  Guess I know where I’m leaving my phone from here on out.

  HA! YOUR HARDWARE MAY BE SAFE THERE, BUT THE LORD CAN ACCESS THE CLOUD.

  Of course He could. She really needed to figure out what that even meant.

  NO DATA IS SAFE FROM THE PIERCING JUDGMENT OF THE LORD.

  Okay, great. Now could you get lost? I need to sell my image for some people to worship at fifteen dollars a pop.

  She shook her head to clear it and went to join her mother in the cafe.

  Chapter Thirty

  The reminder text from Dr. Bell sat ignored on Jessica’s phone as she trudged up the stairs of her building, passing the coke machine and slogging down the long hallway toward her front door. She wondered briefly what Jameson was up to, then realized she was too tired to care.

  As usual, her keys had hidden themselves beneath a bunch of other inexplicably sharp objects in her purse. And as she twiddled her fingers through the clutter, the telltale jingle teasing her, the door behind her opened and she looked back to find Jesus and Jeremy ready for a night on the town, meaning neither of their heavy metal T-shirts had obvious holes in them.

  “Evening, Jessica,” said Jesus. “On your way in or out?”

  “In.” She tried not to gawk at Jesus’s black eye that was already starting to yellow around the edges.

  “I noticed you didn’t come home last night,” said Jeremy matter of factly.

  She paused in her digging and turned to face him head on. “And you know that how?”

  He nodded back at his door. “That blue speck at the corner of the door frame? It’s a motion sensor camera.” He shrugged a single shoulder coolly. “Don’t tell anyone because the technology isn’t available to the public or le
gal. Anyway, I review footage over coffee each morning, and I didn’t see you.”

  Her left eye twitched as her mind rewound through everything she’d ever done outside her front door when she thought no one was watching. At the very least, he’d seen her pick a few wedgies. At most …

  “Great.”

  “You out with that handsome actor of yours?” Jeremy asked casually. She knew he wouldn’t judge her if she stayed the night with someone, but Jesus might.

  “No. For the record, I was stuck at work due to a stalker. And then I decided I might as well get some paperwork done that I was way behind on.”

  “Business, eh?” said Jeremy. “I know a little something about that.” He chuckled at his modest understatement.

  Jesus leaned forward. “Seriously. This guy.” He jabbed a thumb Jeremy’s way. “Things have gotten so complicated in the last two thousand years.”

  “The first thing you should know,” Jeremy said, “is that very few businesses make it into the black in the first three years. And in food services, that’s even lower. The fact that you’ve managed to stay open as long as you have is very impressive.”

  Her neighbor was the last person she’d expected to make her feel better today, but he was a stupid-rich media mogul, so maybe he knew what he was talking about. “That’s great to hear,” she said.

  “I should’ve told you sooner,” he added. “If you make a profit this year, or even next year, you would be well ahead of the game.”

  Perspective. That’s all she needed. It was truly remarkable how much zooming out on a tough situation could make it all the more tolerable. It was so easy so lose sight of the bigger picture when she was constantly down in the trenches.

  “Of course,” Jeremy continued, “your success probably already means you’ve been put on the registry.”

  She blinked, thinking she’d misheard. “The what?”

  “The registry. You know, the one the IRS keeps. Audits are never random as they’d have you believe. What happens is they put businesses with any real earning potential on the registry, and every year, they check back to see if that business is worth auditing. The more growth in the year, the more likely the audit. Obviously, they do this with the goal of killing as many small businesses as possible. That leaves more people dependent on the government for money, more need for another large-scale bailout as markets crash, and therefore justification for printing more money and creating the hyperinflation we’ve been working toward for years. Once that’s accomplished, the nation will be economically destroyed and the shadow government can finally step forward to take public control. Personally, I don’t know why they don’t just go straight to the hyperinflation. Nothing you or I could do to stop it, and it would take down all the small businesses, and even some of the big ones, at once, accomplishing their end game in less time. Doesn’t make sense.”