by Michele Reed
“Are you serious?” Mercedes tried not to let out a loud cackle at the thought of it. “Kerry, I’m just a mechanic. And honestly, I’m pretty happy where I’m at. I’m far too underqualified for something like that.”
“Just a mechanic?” he shook his head. “So modest.” He opened up one of his desk drawers and pulled out a small file. “I always do my homework, Mercedes. I can call you Mercedes, yes?”
“Well if I’m calling you Kerry,” she mumbled.
He grinned again, showing off his perfectly white teeth. “Mercedes, I always do my homework. I know you spent three years at MIT. While you were there you were on the gifted track for mechanical engineering. I can’t imagine why you left, but this is a very impressive resume. I called a few of your old professors, and they gave you some raving reviews.” He handed her the folded that head her transcripts inside, “Top of your class, every time. No matter what you were involved in, you were at the top. This impresses me. Underqualified? No, not at all. You didn’t finish your degree, but you have a large amount of knowledge and experience built up in that head of yours.”
Mercedes frowned to see her college transcripts. This was something she had not thought about in a long time. She missed MIT, but it had been a bad time for her. She could remember leaving class one day, receiving a phone call from her uncle Tito to come to some hospital that her father had suddenly passed out while working on a car. It was the day they had found out about the cancer. The transcripts did not bring back very fond memories. “I’m not a construction person,” she said.
“You see now? You’re just lying to me.” He smiled, “I found some more records on city planning. You were the foreman for a few small projects out in Brooklyn in your own neighborhood. You’ve done this before.”
She laid the folder down on his desk. “On a small house and a little apartment building, Kerry.”
“And now I’m offering to give you a chance to play in the big leagues,” he said with a wink, “And I think you can do it.”
“I think you have highly overestimated my abilities,” she said and crossed her arms.
“You’ve done this before. Just on a smaller scale,” he said. “Did I mention the job pays $200,000?”
Mercedes raised an eyebrow. “For one job?”
“For one job,” he said and then further explained himself. “Normally, I would offer this position to a company. That’s why the price is so high, but I’m willing to pay for quality not for a name brand. If the price gets you on board, I’m willing to pay it. So long as you can get the job done and get the job done well, you will walk home with $200,000 from this deal. No strings attached.”
Mercedes could not even comprehend that much money. She stared at him, almost angry for dangling this carrot out in front of her. What about the garage, she thought, quite unwilling to turn her back on it. She then grimaced a bit, I could buy the garage back from the city with that much money - and refurbish it. Hell, I could expand it! She was not sure if she could put the garage at risk by walking away during the time the project would take. She tapped her fingers on her knee. “Do you expect an answer from me now?” she asked.
“I was hoping,” he said and for the first time since they had gotten into his office he frowned.
“Would you allow me to sleep on this and get back to you as soon as I can?” she asked nervously. “It’s a great offer, but it’s a big decision you know? Especially for someone like me.”
His smile returned. He stood up and came around to her side of the desk. He leaned against the large piece of furniture and looked down at her. He held out his hand to help her stand. “By all means. Take your time. If you need to sleep on it, sleep on it. I certainly hope you come to the conclusion to work for me, though.” His smile became so wide for a moment that his eyes squinted. “Just know that your rent has been paid in full for the next three months. A gift, whether you decide to work for me or not.”
“Thank you for that.” Mercedes embarrassingly broke eye contact. “I appreciate you doing that for me, I really do.” She stared down at her shoes. “Life has thrown a few curveballs my way in the past couple of months. I will be sure to seriously consider your offer.”
“We break ground on the new building next Monday. That means you have nine days to make up your mind and decide whether or not you are going to accept.” He nodded his head politely. He handed her a card. “This is my personal cell. Call me when you make up your mind.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Mercedes said as she headed out the door, staring down at the card with the Brian O’Brian emblem. She walked down the hall and through the large office setting before exited into the small lobby where Miss Lawrence was still seated at her desk.
Miss Lawrence saw her and rolled her eyes, “How did it go?” she forced herself to say.
“He offered me a job,” Mercedes said.
“I didn’t know there were any janitorial positions available,” Miss Lawrence said.
Just to make the woman squirm, Mercedes told a bold-faced lie. She put on a bright smile and said, “Janitorial. That’s funny. No, Miss Lawrence. I’ll be a part of the new review board here. I’ll be looking into all employee records next week. We’re going to be doing an assessment of all current and potential future employees.”
The woman’s face turned pale. “Oh?”
“Yes,” Mercedes said, “I think I will take the position. Clearly, previous board members have not done an adequate job at assessment. Honestly, I’ve only been here an hour, and I am very disappointed in what I’ve seen. Poor workmanship here.”
Miss Lawrence looked like she would faint. “Really? I haven’t noticed. Everyone here seems like valuable employees to me.” Miss Lawrence said.
Mercedes leaned in, placing her elbow on Miss Lawrence’s desk and whispered, “Between you and me, there’s more than a few people up here who should be worried next time they see me.” Mercedes then backed away from the desk. “Well, I really should be going.”
“Can I get you a coffee or anything, Miss Mercado, before you go?” Miss Lawrence asked.
Mercedes shook her head. “Oh, no thank you.” She started towards the elevators. “Have a good day, Miss Lawrence.”
The elevator doors closed and instantly Mercedes began to chuckle. There was a man on the elevator coming from a higher floor. The man gave her the same sort of look that Miss Lawrence had, as though to say with his eyes you don’t look like he belong here. He continued to look at Mercedes awkwardly while her laugh subsided. “Are you all right?” he asked at last.
Mercedes nodded, “Yes, sorry. Life is just funny sometimes.” She straightened herself up and impatiently awaited the elevator to reach the ground floor. She had a lot to consider.
Mercedes made her way outside. She started to wave for a cab, but instead took out the business card the Russian driver had given her earlier. She called the number and the man on the other line assured her he would be there shortly. Much to her surprise, the familiar cab came pulling up in only a few minutes. “Hello Miss Mercado!” Yury’s voice sang as he jumped out of the cab to open the back door for her. He really was a kind soul and nodded his head happily as she climbed into the back of her cab.
“Thank you, Yury,” she said. The drive home was anything but quiet. Yury was so excited that she had thought of him that he talked to her the entire way back to Brooklyn. She could hardly get a word in edgewise between his happy jabbering and the foreign music he was playing on the radio. She paid him after arriving at her apartment, and he thanked her profusely. “I’m going to keep your card, Yury,” she said with a smile, “that was honestly a fun cab ride.”
“Thank you, Miss Mercado!” he said while opening the door for her.
She headed inside, hauling herself up the two flights of stairs. Once inside her apartment, she immediately threw off her high heels. Her feet were killing her. She made herself some lunch, and afterwards she plopped herself down on her futon. Kerry’s offer was the only thing sh
e could think about. Desperately, she tried to reason with herself as to why she should not take him up on his deal.
It would be selling out. That was one reason she had left MIT. She had wanted to be a part of the garage, especially in her family’s time of need. The money was very tempting, though, especially if she could buy back the garage. Her mind went back and forth. She felt incredibly torn. It was starting to make her sick to her stomach. At last she decided to call her Uncle Tito to tell him all about the offer.
He was at the garage when she called. She could tell in his voice that he was very eager to hear all about this mysterious Mr. O’Brian, whom she now referred to as Kerry. Tito was absolutely exuberant when she told him about the offer. “What do you mean you’re not sure? Mercedes, this is amazing!” his voice rang out over the phone.
Mercedes had lied down on the futon; she held the phone to her ear and propped up her feet on a worn-out pillow. “I don’t want to sell out.”
“Sell out? You’re not a sell out! Mercedes, please, consider this. It’s $200,000! And if you do well he might even hire you for future projects. Can you imagine? Your father would be so proud of you, Mercedes,” he said. She hated it when Tito used her father to persuade her, but she wondered if in this moment he was right.
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?” He laughed, “Mercedes, baby girl, don’t throw something like this away because of me. I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe I could use the money to buy back the garage,” Mercedes said, catching herself daydreaming about bringing the garage back to its former glory, “We could get it up and running again. Get it fixed up too.” She smiled, imagining working in a garage that’s bathroom did not overflow once a month. There might would even be enough money left over to give the place a new paint job; it certainly needed it. The question was whether or not it was worth working for people, for suits, like Kerry O’Brian.
“Maybe,” Tito said. “I think you should take the offer regardless. It’s good money, and it’s a good opportunity.”
Mercedes sighed, “All right, I’ll call him. I’ll take the offer.” Mercedes hung up with her uncle. She remained lying down on the futon, staring up at her ceiling. The ceiling was full of cracks and dings; she could pay to get that fixed to. Hell, she would be able to afford a better apartment all together. She had not even thought about what would happen if Kerry hired her for additional jobs. She debated for only a moment longer, but finally decided to take her uncle’s advice.
She decided to call the number Kerry had slipped her before she had left his office. She sighed as she typed each of the numbers written on the card. The phone rang three times before she got nervous and hung up. Mercedes shook her head. She couldn’t bring herself to call him. Suddenly her cell phone went off. She frowned; he was calling her back. After taking a deep breath and allowing the phone to ring at least three times, she answered, “Hello?”
“This is Kerry O’Brian. I received a call from this number?” he questioned, although the playfulness in his voice told Mercedes that he knew exactly who he was talking to. She hated that.
“Yes, this is Mercedes Mercado,” she said.
“Mercedes! I did not expect to hear back from you so quickly,” he said.
“Yes, well your offer was very persuasive,” she said, “I would love to come work for Brian O’Brian Enterprises as your foreman.”
“Wonderful!” his voice was quite excitable. “Tell me, Miss Mercedes, are you available this evening?”
“Yes,” she said.
“I will have my driver come pick you up. Let’s have dinner and get this paperwork signed,” he said.
“Actually, if you don’t mind, Kerry, I have a cab driver I’ve grown attached to. I’ll just take the cab,” she said. Yury had been so incredibly kind; she figured people who worked hard to ensure their customers were happy, even if it was just a taxi driver, deserved to have repeat customers. Her father had always been adamant about customer satisfaction, and there was a hint of her father in the silly Russian driver, Yury.
“Oh?” he laughed, “Give me your driver’s information. I want to pay for your ride.” Mercedes thanked him for the offer and gave up Yury’s information. Kerry laughed, “Is that the same driver Miss Lawrence sent to you this morning?”
“It was.” Mercedes laughed as well, “I guess asking for a certain cab driver is a weird request, isn’t it?”
“Not at all. I’ll be sure to have Mr. Yury pick you up this evening. I’m looking forward to meeting with you again,” Kerry said, and the two of them hung up their phones.
Mercedes, still lying on her back, grunted slightly. What should I wear, she wondered and forced herself to stand. She had no idea where they were having dinner, but a man like Kerry would surly take her to some high-end place. She hurried to her bedroom and cringed at the wrinkled piles of dirty clothes. “When was the last time I did laundry?” she grunted and began sorting through everything, desperately trying to find something suitable to wear to dinner. She did not want to wear the suit; it was uncomfortable and did not fit her quite right.
She found a few dresses, but could not tell if they were suitable in the wrinkled condition they were in. “Laundry day it is, I guess,” she muttered and finished sorting through the mountains of filth. It was not as though she had anything else to do that day before dinner. She changed into some sweats and winced slightly to discover that she had left all the tags on the suit she had worn to meet with Kerry; she hoped that he had not noticed. “Stupid,” she muttered.
Once she was dressed comfortably, Mercedes proceeded to have a full day of laundry. She washed, dried, and actually bothered to hang up her clothes in her closet. She could not remember the last time she had actually seen her bedroom floor. She picked up any trash that had been hidden under clothes and even bothered dusting a bit. Taking a step back, Mercedes admired her handiwork.
Four dresses were laid out on her bed, none of which looked even remotely descent. “I can wear any of these,” she muttered. The dresses looked like she was about to go clubbing, not fine dining.
There was a knock on her door. She hurried into the main room of the apartment and answered. A young man in a fancy fedora was standing before her, holding a clothing bag by the hanger and a clipboard. “Uh…” the young man looked at his paperwork, “Mercedes Mercado?” he asked.
“That’s me,” she said curiously.
“Could you sign here please, you have a delivery,” he said and held out his paperwork. She signed on the dotted line and took the bagged clothing from the young man. He tipped his hat to her and headed off.
Mercedes shrugged her shoulders and closed the door behind her. There was a printed note pinned to the bag that read:
Miss Mercado,
I hope your meeting went well. I received a rather humorous and distraught phone call from Miss Lawrence today about you. You’re going to have to teach me how to get under her skin like that. Consider this a reward for pissing her off. Best of luck to you,
-Lillian
Mercedes snorted when she read the note. She could not imagine that Kerry would approve of the foul relationship that was obviously present between his secretaries. She figured now that she was going to be working for Kerry, she would eventually get a chance to meet the more fun-loving of the two women. Miss Lawrence had been a nightmare. Lillian Harris, however, seemed like more her type. There was a presence of a certain level of humor that Mercedes could greatly appreciate.
Mercedes opened up the clothing bag and it revealed a lovely blue dress. “Seriously?” Mercedes mused as she pulled the silk dress out of the bag. It was elegant yet casual and she loved it. There was a certain level of excitement that built up inside her at the nice clothing. She had never owned anything so lovely.
She put the dress on and admired herself in the bathroom mirror. It was of medium length, just barely covering her knees. The dress was strapless but came with a cute, lightweight black jacket
that modestly covered her shoulders. There was a small amount of black lace around her waist and at the hymn of the dress as well that added a certain elegance. She twirled around a bit, admiring the new outfit. This time, Mercedes straightened her hair and then pulled back her bangs. It suddenly occurred to her that she was taking a considerable amount of time trying to look impressive for Kerry. She blushed and shook the notion away. It was just business, that was all. There was no need to overdo it for a quick bite to eat with the boss.
After throwing on a bit of makeup, something she rarely did, Mercedes took note of the time and quickly found her black heals and headed out. Much to her dismay, a nice black van with the words Brian O’Brian Enterprises painted on the side was sitting outside of her apartment building. So much for sending Yury, she thought, but then was shocked to see the little Russian man hurrying out of the front seat of the vehicle to greet her.
The man took her by surprise, grabbing her by her shoulders and kissing both of her cheeks. “Good woman!” he said to her with tears in his eyes.
“Um…” Mercedes was incredibly confused. “Yury?” she looked him up and down. He was no longer in his street wear, but instead was dressed in a fine suit, had had a fresh haircut, and his beard was neatly trimmed. The only evidence that this was the same man from that morning was his thick accent and his dirty hat he wore on top of his head.
“I get new job,” he said and puffed out his chest proudly. “Mr. O’Brian say he pay for green card for me and wife. He get me good job. I will be U.S. citizen soon. I will be American!” This man, this complete stranger up until this morning, was in tears before her. “You good woman.” He sounded almost like her grandfather did the day the garage had opened: a proud immigrant who was simply enthused to be on American soil.
“I…” she stammered, “I didn’t do anything.”
“Mr. O’Brian hire me as new company driver. He say you put in good word?” Yury questioned.
“Well, I guess I did?” she said, thinking back to the brief phone conversation she had had with Kerry about the cab driver she liked. Yury gave her a tight, tearful hug that lasted longer than she was comfortable with. He opened the door for her and she crawled into the back. In a matter of hours, it seemed that she had unintentionally helped a Russian family get on the path to American citizenship. She felt her head spinning from the confusion she was now feeling. Had her opinion of the cab driver really been that important to Kerry? It seemed ridiculous to her, but she was glad that Yury was so pleased with her.
