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“I’m so sorry I’m late,” I say to the first few people who are at the front of the queue. “I’ll be with you in five minutes,” I add as I rush into the studio. I go to the back and quickly make a cup of coffee, gulping down some water as I wait for the kettle to boil, and once I have my cup I take it to the couches where I held the previous interviews.
Taking a deep breath, I fix my hair and top and go to the door. “First interview please.”
I can’t say that I’m surprised by my choices for people that I hire. I go with Diesel, a burly German man who specializes in portraits. Although he looks like he fits in with a dangerous bike gang, he speaks softly and sweetly to me the entire interview long.
Cindy was my next choice out of the interviews despite being a very quiet young woman. I didn’t think I would take to her as well as I did because of how shy she was, she even stuttered as we spoke during the interview, but I loved her styles and I adored the tribal tattoos she had designed in her portfolio.
Tintin, because he didn’t want to be called Thomas, tripped on his way into the studio and was completely embarrassed from the start of the interview right until the end, but he had raw talent that interested me.
Finally, I picked Sheldon. He was young and energetic and looked keen to learn, and he had begged me for a chance to be an apprentice at the studio. At first I had been hesitant, but I realized I could use the extra help cleaning, setting up and breaking down the stations, and to book appointments. I agreed.
I had one booth left open but none of the other people that I interviewed throughout the day made the cut, and I was surprised to find I made my way through everyone who wanted to apply. Slightly disappointed, I spent the remainder of the day assigning the booths in my mind and taking notes of where everyone would be before I packed up and started to lock up the studio.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry. I know I’m a little late.” The voice behind me makes me jump slightly and I giggle nervously.
“A little?” I ask, looking at the breathless man standing next to me, “I’d say you’re really late. I’m about to head home.”
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t get away until now,” he continues, holding out his hand. “My name is JJ and I’d really like to apply for a position at your studio.”
“I’ve already gone through all the candidates,” I say before turning to walk up the road.
“So you have no booths left available?” he calls and it stops me in my tracks. I mean, I have one available and it couldn’t hurt to have him pitch to me before I go home. I glance at my watch; the next bus is in fifteen minutes.
“We can walk and talk,” I say to JJ, “you have ten minutes to tell me why I should hire you.”
He jogs to be next to me and holds out his black portfolio. “I only need five.” He’s confident and cocky and I can tell he’s going to be a lot of trouble. I never have gotten on well with that type of person, and I don’t think I’m about to start. I open his portfolio as we walk and I look at the pictures as he rattles in my ear, “I’ve been an artist for over twelve years and I’ve studied abroad. I also have several awards under my belt and I come with my own clients. I’m easygoing, clean, and I’m a good artist.”
“You’re arrogant,” I say, handing his portfolio back to him. He is good, and I like his artwork, but I don’t need attitude in the studio.
“I’m not arrogant, I just know what I’m worth. Here.” He hands me his CV and I go through it as we cross the street together. I’m surprised to see who he has done his apprenticeship under, considering that particular artist only takes one apprentice every fifteen years. I know this because I applied and I didn’t get it. It feels like a bit of a knock to my ego, but I don’t let it show as I hand him his CV back.
“What else?” I ask. “What can you give me that no one else can?”
“Loyalty and honesty,” JJ responds quickly. “I’ll always call you out on your bullshit and I’ll never insult you behind your back.”
I smile as we stop at the bus stop, and I look up at him. He’s a little taller than I am, with blond hair tied back into a short pony. He has a short beard and blue eyes and I find myself slightly lost in them as he looks down into my green eyes. We are both silent for a moment and I finally remember I need to breath. “Okay,” I say quietly, “I’ll hire you for three months, but if it doesn’t work out, you’re gone.”
“Deal,” JJ smiles and I almost get lost again.
As the bus arrives, I am about to board when I turn to shout back to him, “Come around on Saturday at nine to do your booth.”
“Okay,” he calls out and I smile, climbing onto the bus and going to find a seat. I can feel my heart beating hard in my chest and I instantly chastise myself for being so foolish about my decision. He’s an amazing artist, but I’m not sure he’s the right fit for the studio and now I’m stuck with him for three months.
Oh well, nothing I can do about it now. I am nothing if I’m not true to my word, so I’ll draw up his contract as well.
The bus stops near my apartment and I climb off of it, but I decide not to go home straight away. We’re opening next week and if the studio gets quiet, I’m going to get bored quickly, so I decide to treat myself to some books to read just in case.
The second hand bookstore isn’t far from my apartment so I walk there. It takes me about ten minutes before I find myself entering the musty smelling room that is overly stuffed with gems of books. The clerk behind the counter smiles at me and goes back to his book as I start to slowly peruse what is on offer, taking my time since I am in no rush to be anywhere now. I glance at my watch to make sure it isn’t close to Miko’s dinner time and it isn’t.
I spend what feels like hours picking out a measly five books, and as I take them to the counter, I see the time on a clock hanging on the wall and realize I’ve only been there for just over an hour. That’s not bad going as far as I’m concerned, and I know the longest I have spent in a bookstore is well over six hours.
The clerk rings up my books and puts them in a plastic packet for me. I swipe my card to pay and as I leave I feel a chill run up my back. It’s almost as though someone has walked over my grave, or so my mother would say. I shake my head and start the walk back towards my apartment.
I’m a few feet away from the entrance when I stop and turn around. I cannot shake this feeling that I’m being followed and that someone is watching me, but I don’t see anyone paying particular attention to me. Shaking my head once again I go through the entrance and up the stairs to my apartment, letting myself in and putting the books next to the door along with my shoes that I kick off.
Miko is there, almost instantly, slinking around my legs and meowing loudly because now it is close to his dinner time, and he knows it. I giggle and pick him up, giving him lots of noisy kisses much to his disgust, as I carry him to the kitchen and set him down on the countertop.
I get his bowl and take out his favourite brand of wet food. A special treat tonight because it was a good day and I had filled all the vacancies for the studio. With any luck, and my new artists’ clients in tow, we should have a successful opening. I dump his food in his bowl and set it down on the floor. He loftily drops to the floor and goes directly to the bowl, eating as noisily as he can so I know he’s enjoying it.
