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He looks in the backseat, seemingly noticing the boxes for the first time.
“Is that so?” He says. I can’t tell if he’s curious, amused, or annoyed. This guy is completely unreadable to me, which is fine. I’m not looking for a relationship. I’m only looking for a job and possibly a new vibrator if this town has a sex store, which I’m guessing it doesn’t, based on its current population size.
“Yeah, well, who knows how many people they interviewed?” I shrug. I really shouldn’t get my hopes up. “But the guy wanted to see me in person, so I guess that’s good, right?”
Why the hell am I talking so much? This poor cop doesn’t need to hear my life story or how nervous I am about the interview.
“Do you know Mr. Blair?” I ask. I’ve only ever talked with the guy through email. He could be a cranky old codger for all I know.
>
The cop nods. “I know him,” he says. “Wyatt is a good man.”
“No, my interview isn’t with Wyatt. It’s with Carter,” I say, remembering the unique name. Carter Blair. I wonder what Carter is like. Maybe he’ll be one of those friendly old guys who wants to tell me stories about the war or who just wants someone to read him the newspaper at breakfast. There’s always the chance he’ll be an asshole, old and crabby, but I’m trying to keep my hopes up as much as possible.
The cop laughs, and I look back up, meeting his eyes that time.
“Trust me,” he says. “You might be meeting with Carter, but Wyatt is the one you need to impress.”
“Any tips?” I ask him hopefully. Suddenly, getting a ticket doesn’t seem like the worst possible thing to happen to me today. Maybe the cop has some great insight I can use to ace my interview.
“Don’t put up with his crap,” the officer says. He doesn’t even have to think about it. “Stand your ground with him no matter what he says.”
“I thought I was supposed to kiss my new boss’ ass,” I tell him. “Isn’t that the secret to getting hired?”
“Not with the Blair brothers,” he tells me. “With them, you need to be firm. Show them they can’t boss you around. And a low-cut shirt won’t hurt. Have a good day, miss.” He tips his hat and leaves.
My jaw is on the floor, but for the first time this entire trip, I can see myself actually landing this job.
Be firm?
I can do that.
Don’t let them boss me around?
I can do that.
Wear a low-cut shirt?
I can definitely do that.
Honeypot, here I come.
Chapter 2
Hope
There’s a tiny motel just off the exit. It looks questionable at best. The blinking Vacancy sign is missing a few letters and the outside of the building has seen better days. The entire parking lot is dark, although the lights are on in the motel. While I consider myself to be a go-getter, I’m not an idiot.
The last place I want to stay is a murder motel.
Honeypot is actually a few miles down the road, so I decide to see if I can find a place in town to stay. It’s past supper time and my body has seemingly forgotten I just had that burger a couple of hours ago. I’m starving. I drive quickly down the road, following the signs for Honeypot, but I’m careful to obey the exact speed limit. There’s no need for repeat mistakes.
Not tonight.
When I finally see the lights at the edge of town, they’re overshadowed by the neon glow of a diner. Finally: some real food. I park my car and hop out, stretching my arms over my head as I look around.
From the parking lot, I can spot another tiny motel, a church, and a supermarket. There are quite a few trees and the whole town has this 50s-style feel to it. Who knows what else is in this tiny place? If my interview goes poorly tomorrow, I’ll have plenty of time to explore. Maybe there will be a bookstore or library I can hang out in.
