Ya Like That?

Ya Like That? by Iyana Jenna Personal Assistant Wanted Evan’s heart skipped a beat. His hand, clutching a pen, halted and hovered over the small want ad in the newspaper. He’d been circling several that looked and sounded not too complicated. He wasn’t a bum and he had spent almost two years at college. But right now he needed money quickly, and not many companies hired high school graduates. His dad had screwed up his company big time, and the screw-up included his own family. Now he was in jail and Evan’s mother was sick. They had practically nothing left and Evan would take any job, especially if the pay was good. He flicked his gaze back to the last line of the ad. He could use that kind of money. Evan threw his pen away. No more circling. He tore that part out of the paper instead and turned to the PC he rented in an Internet café near the motel where he was staying. He signed in to his email and typed fast. He’d had his resume ready and just had to attach it to the email, then put it on to his memory stick. He’d send the close-up photo he usually attached, but this time he needed to find another one, a decent one, full body. It wasn’t the norm, he thought, but what the heck. Evan smirked. He’d send anything they asked him to as long as it wasn’t a nude picture. He found one of him in a casual shirt and pants and guessed it was okay. Or more than okay. The bright blue shirt punctuated his blond hair and freakishly fair skin, and he saw how his golden brown eyes shone in the light. Evan added it to the other attachments, closed his eyes briefly, took a deep breath, and clicked send. “Phew.” Evan yawned and stretched. He’d worked all day at a diner and his bones felt as if they had turned to jelly. Being a waiter was hard, hard, hard. He never had a chance to sit down for more than five minutes. And the pay…hmf, what pay? Even with the tips, it wouldn’t make up for what he’d lost. Far from it. Stupid, Dad, just stupid. When everything was done, he went back to his room and plopped onto his hard bed. Since his dad had gone to prison, none of them lived in their cozy mansion. The bank took it and their other possessions as collateral. Evan had to rent a small room, saving as much as possible so he could send his mom to a mental institution. They were lucky they got some donations from the church, though it wasn’t much. They didn’t have insurance—that too had been taken away from them. He linked his fingers behind his head. The figures from the ad replayed in his mind. They weren’t offering a full-time job. It was some type of internship at first. But five hundred bucks a night? That was insane. Wait, was it per night? Wasn’t that supposed to be per day? Evan’s head whirled at what it might mean. He found no answer, though, and eventually decided to let it slide. Damn typo. It must be a typo. As his eyes fluttered shut and he drifted to sleep, Evan dreamed of what he could do with the money. Five hundred a day, meaning twenty-five hundred a week. After paying off a part of his mom’s medication, he hoped there’d still be some left for him. He wanted a bigger room with an air conditioner and hot water available every night. Perhaps some new clothes. When he’d left their house, it was with nothing but the clothes he was wearing at the time. He dreamed of other things as well, imagining all the fancy things he could have after he finished his first month at the job. He would have ten grand by that time. He couldn’t believe it. What could he say and do to make them interested in him and call him for an interview? His cheap cell phone vibrated and Train’s Hey Soul Sister ringtone started playing. It wasn’t that loud but it still made Evan jump out of his skin. Who might be calling him in the middle of the night? “H-hello?” “Good evening. Am I talking to a Mr. Evan Foster?” Evan sat up straight. “Yes.” It was a woman’s voice. Sounded like a secretary. Could she be… “Mr. Foster, I’m calling from Brian Donaghue’s office.” “I don’t—” “I believe you sent an application letter along with your résumé and photographs.” What? “Hello, are you still there?” Evan cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah.” “Is that correct, Mr. Foster, that you just applied for the position of Mr. Donaghue’s personal assistant?” Well, there was no name in the advertisement, and what the heck? Why were they calling him the moment they got his email—in the dead of night? Evan couldn’t imagine someone was still at the office at that hour. “I just sent an application letter for that position, yes.” “Good.” “Okay…since you’re calling me, does it mean I’m accepted?” “Oh no, not that fast, Mr. Foster. You still have to go through several interviews. This one tonight is a preliminary interview and another, scheduled tomorrow, will be with our HR manager. If things go smoothly, you’ll meet Mr. Donaghue himself for a private interview.” Evan swallowed. “This…this is an interview?” “That’s correct, Mr. Foster. And tomorrow at ten, will you be available?” He had to wait tables but for five hundred dollars a day, anything could wait. Half a day’s leave it would have to be. “Sure.” “Excellent. I’ll contact HR. The appointment with Mr. Donaghue will come after that.” “Okay.” “So, Mr. Foster. If you’re ready, we’re going to start our interview. It will be recorded so I suggest that you think through your answers carefully.” Evan frowned. He’d applied for a personal assistant position, not a legal position in some big-name law firm. What kind of company did this Brian Donaghue have? “Is it really necessary?” He’d withdraw his application if he had to. He knew he needed those Benjamin Franklins but shady jobs were out of the question. Even for five hundred every night… “Yes, Mr. Foster. This is one of the requirements. Are you in?” “Why are you calling me in the middle of the night? Why not wait until tomorrow morning?” “You’ll get the chance to ask questions later, Mr. Foster, and I need to know if you’re ready to be recorded.” Damn, damn, damn. He was desperate. He did need the money. “Mr. Foster, we can cancel this altogether and you’ll never hear from us again. Good evening.” A beat. “Wait.” Evan didn’t care if he sounded resigned, defeated. “Okay. What would you like to know?” “We’ll start the recording now, Mr. Foster?” “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” “Please state your name, sir.” Sir. Huh. “Evan Foster.” “Your age.” “Twenty-two.” “Your height.” Evan blinked. “Excuse me?” “How tall are you?” He spoke English, goddammit. “Five feet eleven.” “Your weight?” “Huh? I don’t know. One hundred and fifty?” “You answer my question, Mr. Foster, not the other way around.” “I don’t know my weight. I’ve never weighed myself. Look, if you want to know if I’m fat or not, why don’t you just look at my pictures? They’re recent.” “This is for our records, sir.” “So my answer is I don’t know.” “Your eyes?” “Golden brown. My close-up picture—” “Just answer the question, sir.” “Okay.” “Your hair?” “Blond.” Evan hated stating the obvious. “Your skin tone?” “What the hell is this? You can’t hire someone to be a personal assistant based on what they look like.” “Let me worry about that, Mr. Foster.” “For f**k’s sake.” “That’s uncalled for, sir.” Evan sighed. “I’m sorry. Okay, I have fair skin, leaning toward pale. I burn easily. Satisfied?” “One more thing. What do you like about yourself?” “About myself? Well, I’m always determined. I don’t give up and I will never betray the trust given to me.” “Excuse me, Mr. Foster.” “Yeah?” “That’s not what I meant to ask. It’s…which part of your body do you like about yourself?” Jeez. Evan smacked himself with his cell phone. He was this close to hanging up. Perhaps he should just do that. “Hello, you still there?” “I, uh, my arms, I guess. My shoulders?” “You’re not sure?” “I’m not a narcissist, mind you.” “That’s good.” “Okay, what else?” “Yeah, I actually still have one more question. Are you into guys?” Evan almost slammed his cell phone. What? “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to, sir.” “Y-yeah?” “Yes, and we can call it a day.” “And I won’t get an interview tomorrow?” “I’m sorry, Mr. Foster. Thank you for your time.” “I’m gay,” he blurted out. He was. Evan was out and proud. He just didn’t understand how that had anything to do with the job he was applying for. Or with the interview. “I see.” The secretary didn’t show any sign of interest. Evan sighed. “Mr. Foster, that was my last question.” Hmm. Now what? “So?” “I believe you have questions for me, Mr. Foster.” “Oh right, right. Yeah. So does this office stay open until midnight?” “We’re a multinational company, Mr. Foster. We cater to the needs of people around the world so we are open around the clock.” “I see. Is it okay for me to ask what kind of company you run? And what would my responsibilities be?” “We deal with food supply around the world. As for your responsibilities, you will talk with HR tomorrow.” Evan remembered. “It’s ten o’clock, right?” “Yes.” The secretary gave him their address and Evan took a note of it. “I’ll be there.” Evan hung up on one of the weirdest phone calls he’d ever had. He didn’t know what he had gotten into but he’d give it a try. After all, he needed those five hundred bucks. * * * * Ten to ten the next morning, he arrived in front of the building at the address he had been given. Evan looked up and swallowed nervously at what could be the thirty, no, forty-story building. No wonder that secretary asked a lot of bizarre questions. Evan fixed his tie, cleared his throat, and stepped in through a revolving door. “Hi,” he greeted the receptionist. “Good morning, sir. Can I help you?” “Yeah, uh. I have an appointment.” “Right. May I get your name, sir?” “It’s Foster. Evan Foster. I’m supposed to meet with the manager of HR.” The receptionist typed something into the computer. “You’re meeting with someone from Donaghue’s office,” she said with eyes never lifting from the computer screen. “Yes, I am.” “It’s the tenth floor, sir. They are waiting for you.” So at least it wasn’t a bogus set-up and this wasn’t a fake office. Evan had lost sleep the previous night thinking he might have been tricked into something illegal, or worse, filthy. He nodded at the receptionist and headed to the elevator. Tenth floor. Gave him a little more time to think. The glass door panels and the bustling activity of the people on the other side of the doors made Evan stop thinking altogether. He didn’t need to anymore. Right now he wished he’d joined them already. With a new resolve, Evan pushed the door open. * * * * “We’re so glad to have you with us, Mr. Foster.” Ben Dalton, the HR manager, shook his hand. Evan eyed him briefly. Ben was tall and his shirt stretched tightly across his chest. He was quite a hunk. “It’s Evan.” He shook Ben’s hand back, ready to get to his feet. Ben laughed. “Okay, Evan. No, please stay seated. We’re ready to go to the next level now.” “Next level?” Ben took a folder out of the drawer and opened it. “We prepared a contract for you. Read it carefully before you sign it. Ask me if something’s not clear.” Ben slid the paper toward Evan. The contract stated the usual things, the company’s name, his name, his address. The first clause stated the contract they offered him, which was for one year. Evan’s mind whirled with the amount of money he could have in one year’s time. He forced himself to push that thought away. He hadn’t accepted the job yet. He went to the second point. It said that… “You’re giving away twenty-five hundred dollars just like that?” Evan gawked at the printed words. “You’ll get the money first thing in the morning after your first night. I’ll be waiting on Mr. Donaghue’s word.” “Really? I can’t believe you’ll pay me a week in advance.” “It’s four days in advance. You’ll have worked for us.” “Yeah, but only one day.” “And one night. This is to make sure that you won’t think we are trying to trick you into doing something awful. After all, we’ll have paid you for one week if you decide to…stop working for us.” That didn’t make sense. “Why would I want to stop working?” Ben smiled at him. “Just a precaution.” “I don’t understand.” “Look. All you have to do is sign this contract and come to see Brian tonight. That will be the last of the series of interviews you need to do if you want to work here. If you don’t want to sign it, be my guest. Thank you for coming and I wish you luck in your future endeavors.” There was a tingling in Evan’s head and that usually warned him something was fishy. Evan knew if something was too good to be true, it usually was. But he needed money. What could be bad about signing the contract right now? He would still keep the two-thousand five-hundred dollars. “I-I think I want to give it a try.” Ben’s eyes widened. “You do? That’s great.” He shoved a pen towards him before Evan could say anything. He wiggled the pen in his hand, flicked his gaze up to Ben, licked his lips, and slouched down to give his signature. It was bold and strong. Evan felt sure of things. He’d walk away if he wanted to. He would have the money already. “When should I start?” “Lily will take you around the office this morning but you’re free after that. You just have to show up this evening. Mr. Donaghue will be waiting for you at his place.” “Okay.” “Make sure you’re there at seven. Here’s the address.” “I will. And Ben, thank you.” “Likewise.” Ben pressed a button and talked into the speaker. “Lily, can you come to my office, please?” He turned back to Evan. “Okay, that’s it. I’ll see you again, Evan. Good luck.” They stood up and shook hands. Evan felt as though he’d won the lottery.