Alan Lennox and the Temp Job of Doom

by Brian Olsen

  “Right,” Alan said. “No, I know, I think it’s great what you do. That’s why I’m so excited to work with you.”

  “There’s a lot we don’t have enough of,” Kevin continued. “We need a new copier, new printers. I always need more art supplies – hell, I need more of just about everything. What I’m not short of is teachers. Everybody wants to work with the kids. They’re good kids, even the ones who ain’t all that good. I got a drawer full of résumés from actors and writers and painters and photographers and what have you, most of them fresh out of college, all wanting to do some good and maybe build up their CV while they’re at it.”

  “Oh,” Alan said.

  “We got three paid staff members here,” Kevin said. “Including me. All part-time. Two, now, until I find a new development director. Two of us and one unpaid intern to handle all of the administrative needs of this organization. And I can tell you, honey, we are drowning. Donations are not coming in and bills are not getting paid. Nobody sent out the class schedule for this week so our teachers don’t know where they’re supposed to be when. Our fiscal year is half over and I haven’t met with our accountant yet, and I haven’t had time to go through our financial statements for him anyway. I had to tell a horde of hungry teenagers yesterday that I forgot to order the pizza for a pizza party I promised them a month ago. Things aren’t getting done, is what I’m saying.”

  “Wow,” Alan said. “That sounds awful.”

  “I could put you in a class, Alan,” Kevin said. “You’re a smart guy, and I like you, and I think you’d be good with the kids, and I could put you in to help out one of our current teachers in a writing class or in the group discussion. I can do that. I can see that’s what you want. And judging by Leelee and Paul, I think the kids would want it too.”

  He pushed the laptop towards Alan. “But this, Alan, this is what the kids need.”

  Alan put down the poem. He reached out and took the laptop. He peered at the screen.

  “I know this database program,” he said. “I’m working with it at my current temp job. It’s not so bad. You could organize it better – can I play with the layout?”

  “Be my guest,” Kevin said as he stood up. “You all right out here? I’d let you work in the office but I got a meeting with one of our boys in a few minutes and I need to keep it private. He’s been stealing and I have to put the fear of God into him.”

  “I’m good,” Alan said without looking up.

  “Take what you want from the fridge unless it’s got somebody’s name on it.”

  Alan barely noticed Kevin leaving as he examined the database. It was a mess. Whoever had created it clearly didn’t know what they were doing. They were using it as if it were a spreadsheet, ignoring the extra functionality the database structure provided.

  He put his smartphone on the table, put his earbuds in, hit shuffle on his peppiest playlist, and went to work. He spent some time fiddling with the design, making it more user-friendly so that others would be able to find information they were looking for without needing to know every last detail of the software. When that was finished, he started entering the information from the spreadsheet. With the adjustments he had made to the database, it was much easier to see if he was duplicating records that already existed. He hummed along with his music and typed away. He was so engrossed in his work that it was several seconds before he noticed the face hovering over his shoulder.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!” he screamed, jumping out of his seat. His earbuds tore out of his head as his phone was knocked to the ground.

  Leelee burst out laughing. “My gramma would slap the white right off you if she heard you say that!”

  “You scared the hell out of me,” Alan said, putting a hand on his racing heart.

  “I wanted to see what you were doing. I didn’t mean to scare you, I thought you knew I was there.”

  Alan laughed. “It’s fine. I was in my own world.”

  He bent down to pick up his phone. “Shit,” he said. There was a spider web of cracks across the bottom of the screen.

  Leelee gasped, covering his mouth with his hands. “Oh, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, did your phone break? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!”

  Alan forced a smile. “It’s fine,” he said. “It was an accident.”

  He noticed that the GPS indicator was on. He opened the control panel for the phone’s settings and tried to turn it off, but the indicator remained. Otherwise, everything seemed fine. Apart from the huge cracks. He sighed.

  He looked up to see Leelee’s mortified expression.

  “It’s fine,” Alan said to him. “It still works. I’m overdue for a new one anyway.”

  Which I’ll be able to afford in about six months, he thought. If I give up nonessentials. Like taxis. And laundry. And eating.

  “You punk ass, what did you do?” Paul had appeared in the archway. She was holding a large, thick piece of cream-colored paper in her hand. It looked like something was painted on it, but Alan couldn’t make it out.

  “Don’t make me feel bad, Paul,” Leelee said. “I broke his phone. I’m so sorry, for real.”

  “It’s fine,” Alan said. “It’s not a big deal. Is there something happening in this room? Do I need to move?”

  “We’re looking for Kevin,” Paul explained. “His office door is closed.”

  “I think he’s meeting with someone,” Alan said.

  “Speak of the devil and she doth appear,” Kevin said, turning the corner into the room. He opened the fridge and took out a soda. “What’s the latest crisis?”

  “I broke Alan’s phone!” Leelee said. “I’m really sorry!”

  “You did what now?”

  “It’s fine,” Alan said. “It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Deshawn still ain’t here, Kevin,” Paul said. “He didn’t come to art class.”

  She handed the painting she was holding to Kevin, who looked at it for a moment, then set it down on the table. He didn’t speak.

  “Did you text him?” Alan asked finally.

  “He don’t have a phone,” Leelee said. “Like you. I’m real sorry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “It’s real cold out tonight, Kevin,” Paul said. “Leelee and me were going to skip poetry and go look for him.”

  “Don’t do that,” Kevin said. “If he’s not here then he’s inside somewhere warm. I’ll call his parents, see what I can find out. Are you staying late tonight?”

  “Naw, I gotta get home for dinner,” Leelee answered.

  “I’m staying,” Paul said.

  “All right, well, both of you get to class,” Kevin said. “Come check in with me after poetry, I’ll tell you what his momma said.”

  Neither of the kids looked satisfied, but both headed out of the room. Leelee mouthed one last apology to Alan as he left, and Alan mouthed, “It’s fine,” back.

  Alan sat, pushing at his damaged phone dejectedly. Kevin sat down opposite him and took a long sip of soda.

  “They are the three muske-queers,” he said when he finished. “They’re a good influence on Deshawn.”

  “Do you think he’s in trouble?” Alan asked. “The kid who didn’t show up?”

  Kevin sighed. “Deshawn’s a tough one. Leelee and Paul have it pretty well, all things considered. Leelee’s parents live a few blocks south. He was really depressed before he started coming here – he got bullied a lot, as I’m sure you can imagine. They were worried he might hurt himself, so they brought him here. He’s so much happier now that he’s got real friends, they’re two of our biggest supporters. Paul lives in Newark with her mom. She had a rough time with the gay thing at first, but she’s coming around. She’s less happy about the boy drag, but Paul wears dresses at family get-togethers and that seems to keep the peace.”

  He took another swig of his drink before continuing. “Deshawn’s family isn’t so understanding. His dad tried to beat the gay out of him, then threw him out. His mom went al
ong with it, she says because she’s afraid of the wrath of God, but I think she’s more afraid of the wrath of her husband. Deshawn’s been on and off the streets for a few months now, more on than off.”

  “That’s terrible,” Alan said.

  “You have any trouble with your folks when you came out?” Kevin asked.

  “No,” Alan said. “My dad died when I was a kid, but my mom and step-dad were fine. Said they pretty much always knew.”

  Kevin laughed. “Parents are better nowadays, but Deshawn’s folks are like mine were, back in the Stone Age. Deshawn’s real little – he’s older than Leelee and Paul but he looks younger. He stays with Leelee sometimes, but he starts to feel guilty about freeloading and tells them he’s back at his parents when he’s really out on the streets, or going home with guys he’s meeting in bars or down on the pier.”

  “That’s horrible,” Alan said. “Does his dad know his son his hustling to stay alive? He’d have to let him come home.”

  Kevin shook his head. “Spoken like someone from a loving family. If his dad knew he’d probably kill him.”

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “Exactly. Here. This is what Deshawn’s been working on in art class.” He slid the painting that Paul had given him across the table. “He’s almost finished. That’s why Paul was so sure Deshawn wouldn’t skip today.”

  Alan looked at the painting. It was good, almost photorealistic. It showed a family – a mother, father, and son, posed like for a portrait. The parents had their arms around each other’s waists. Their free hands were resting on their son’s shoulders. They all looked happy. The son looked safe.

  “He was making it for his dad’s birthday.”

  Alan couldn’t speak. They sat in silence for a moment.

  Alan continued to stare at the painting. There was something about the boy.

  “Do you have a recent picture of Deshawn?” he asked.

  Kevin scanned the wall behind Alan. “We must, somewhere. There, dead center. That’s him with Leelee and Paul, see? That’s from just last week, I think.”

  Alan stood and hunted for the picture amid the dozens taped to the wall.

  “I didn’t want to get the kids worked up, but I’m just as worried as they are,” Kevin said. “It’s dangerous out there, especially for the little ones like Deshawn. And it’s so damn cold. I don’t like to let the kids sleep here, if the city found out they would shut us the hell down, but sometimes...I just...”

  “Kevin,” Alan said. He had found the picture, and seen the shock of blue hair the boy hadn’t had in the portrait. The same blue hair on the disfigured boy they had met near Caitlin’s theater.

  “I need to tell you something about Deshawn...”

  ***

  Want to see what happens next? Download Caitlin Ross and the Commute from Hell now and keep reading!

  Also by Brian Olsen

  THE FUTURE NEXT DOOR

  A contemporary urban science fiction comedic thriller series in four parts.

  Alan, Caitlin, Mark and Dakota are four ordinary twentysomethings making their way in New York City – they’re just trying to have a little fun, pay the bills, and maybe figure out what to do with their lives. But an encounter with a murderous megacorporation begins a journey into a world of danger. The future’s come early for these four friends – can they survive mind-controlled office drones, deadly amusement parks, and tears in the fabric of space and time, while still managing to find love, chase their dreams, and save the world?

  The entire series is available now from all major ebook retailers.

  Book One: Alan Lennox and the Temp Job of Doom

  Book Two: Caitlin Ross and the Commute from Hell

  Book Three: Mark Park and the Flume of Destiny

  Book Four: Dakota Bell and the Wastes of Time

  The Complete Series: The Future Next Door

  Also by Brian Olsen

  THE DYSTOPIA SPELL

  Are your swashbuckling pirates battling killer robots?

  Is a masked slasher lurking in your cozy mystery?

  Does your space opera have too little space and too much opera?

  When genres collide, Jed is there to pick up the pieces...and have a whole lot of fun in the process.

  Jed Ryland is an agent of the Crossroads, always on watch for incompatible universes smashing together. This time out, a dystopian society where teens are forced to battle for their lives is invaded by monsters from a sword-and-sorcery fantasy realm.

  Jed’s mission: keep the teens alive, repel the invasion, topple the oppressive government, locate the artifact pulling the worlds together, and prevent the utter destruction of both universes.

  Piece of cake.

  Available now from Amazon.com.

  Also by Brian Olsen

  THIS IS WHAT HE SHOULD HAVE SAID

  A fun short story about shyness and regret.

  Bradford worries constantly that any new people he meets will find him boring. By and large, his fears are justified. When his co-workers invite him to a casual night out at a bar, Bradford finds making conversation to be as painful as ever. Will he realize how much his life of solitude is costing him before it’s too late?

  Available now from Amazon.com.

  Also by Brian Olsen

  THE UNNATURAL HAUNTING OF MRS. BEVERLY SNOW

  Beverly Snow lives a quiet life in rural Maine. The widowed grandmother spends her evenings baking, watching television, and writing letters of complaint to network executives about the immorality of modern American culture. One cold autumn night, Beverly’s serenity is shattered by two unwelcome visitors – the spirits of a dead gay couple, haunting her home in a most unnatural way. Beverly is forced to get up close and personal with the very same sinners she publicly decries, but she may find the biggest sin under her roof is not what she thinks...

  This 15,000 word novelette is a spooky, sexy, somewhat strange gay ghost story.

  Available now from Amazon.com.

  Acknowledgments

  Thanks first to the handful of friends and family whom I told I was writing a book while I was still actually writing it. Thank you for your support and encouragement and for not rolling your eyes (at least, not when I could see).

  Thanks to Mike Allen, Michael Slaven, and Kate Danley for reading early drafts, offering feedback and pointing out mistakes. Many, many mistakes. Any typos that remain are my own damn fault.

  Thanks to Simon Winheld, who did the original cover art for the first edition.

  Thanks to Tara Kenavan for her professional organizer expertise, specifically a time-management tip without which I’d still be writing chapter four.

  And a second thanks to Kate Danley, for the inspiration.

  About the Author

  Brian Olsen is a science-fiction writer from New York City. He is the author of The Future Next Door, a contemporary urban science-fiction comedic thriller series, and Multiverse Mashup, a series of genre-bending adventure novels. He’s also written a number of short stories in less complicated genres, as well as numerous plays and sketches for the stage. He has an MFA from the Actors Studio, so if you need someone to cry on cue, just ask. Visit www.brianolsenbooks.com for more information.

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either created by the author or used fictitiously.

  Cover by Damonza.com.

  Alan Lennox and the Temp Job of Doom.

  Copyright © 2013 Brian Olsen. All rights reserved.

 

 

 
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