The guy tilts his head. “What’s your sign?”
She smacks his arm. “Enough with your astrology.”
“If he’s a Gemini, he can’t work here—”
“Of course he’s not a Gemini. Look at those shoes.”
“I can hear you guys,” I say.
They whisper intently to each other. Then the girl rises from her chair, moving her hair behind her ear. “Sorry about that,” she says, extending her hand. “I’m Alex. And the Jimin impersonator there is Simon.”
“Nice to meet you guys,” I say.
“Same,” she says, still holding my hand. She looks at me for a moment. “You have a very symmetrical face. Has anyone told you that before?”
“I don’t think so…”
“I’m a makeup artist, so I notice these things,” she says, nodding thoughtfully. “The bow shape of your lips is a sign of loyalty.”
“You made that up,” Simon scoffs.
Alex shoots him a look. “I’ve read articles on this.”
“If you believe that stuff, I have some snake oil I’dloveto sell you.” Simon laughs, rising from his chair. He grabs a box from the floor and carries it to the counter. I notice the color of his nails. They’re a midnight blue with flecks of gold, looking like stars.
“I really like your nails,” I say.
Simon holds out his hand, admiring them himself. “Thank you. I painted them last night.” Then the phone rings beside him. He sighs before answering it. “Hello?” A pause. “Yeah, can you hold?” Simon covers the receiver and turns his head. “Alex, where are those cast tickets?”
Alex shrugs. “How should I know?”
“Because you were in charge of them last week.”
“No,youwere in charge of them.”
“Are you gaslighting me?”
A voice mumbles through the phone. Simon lifts his hand from the receiver and shouts, “I said hold!” He presses a button and slams the phone down.
I stand there for a moment, wondering what I’m supposed to do. “Can I help with anything?”
Simon gives me an exasperated look. “Listen, Eric. They don’t pay me enough to train the new hires, okay? Besides, we have a pretty tight system running at the moment.” Thephone rings again. Simon picks it up and slams it right back down.
Alex sits on the counter. “We do need someone to work the box tonight,” she says.
“What happened to the old man?” Simon asks.
“He sprained an ankle.”
“Another one?How many ankles does he have left?” Simon shakes his head, then turns back to me. “Alright, Eric. Looks like your services are needed. Congratulations, you’ll be staffing the box tonight.”
“You mean, the one outside?” I glance at the entrance. There’s a little box office window that sits between the glass doors.
“Technically, it’s still inside,” Alex says, grabbing another bag of M&Ms.
“It’s not that bad out there,” Simon says, waving away all concerns. “And the glass is bulletproof, so you’ll be fine.”
I blink at him. “Is that something to worry about?”
