8. Lorelei

8

LORELEI

I sit on the couch, staring at the same job advertisements that I have for the last week, feeling even more hopeless as the minutes tick by.

"Everything happens for a reason, Lorelei. As one door closes, another opens. You just have to be ready to embrace the challenges."

That jerk's smooth voice rings out in my ears as if he's right in front of me once again. The hairs on my arms rise and a shiver rips down my body.

He has no right to be inside my head, even if it is with annoyingly good advice.

Although, it's not that good, because I don't see any doors opening for me right now. Unfortunately, all of them seem firmly fucking closed.

A waitressing job at a local restaurant stares back at me. It's only a couple of blocks away. I could walk. I might even save a bit of cash on meals if my experience of working in the food industry is anything to go by. It might go a little way toward helping with the significant pay cut.

I'm good with people…sometimes.

I wince as I think about someone complaining about their perfectly good meal.

Do I want to deal with that? No, I really fucking don't. But at this point, I don't have much choice.

My thumb hovers over the "apply now" button, but I don't get a chance to hit it because my cell begins ringing, the name Wilder appearing at the top of the screen.

I frown before glancing at the time.

He should be in class.

Answering the call, I put my cell to my ear.

"What do you need bailing out of this time?" I ask lightly.

Wilder's best fake laugh fills the line, and my stomach knots.

Shit. Something is wrong.

"Wilder? What's going on? Shouldn't you be in class?"

Concern for my little brother floods through my veins, and I find myself on my feet, pacing back and forth through my living room.

I haven't told them that I've lost my job. I don't want them to worry. They've already got more stress in their lives than seniors at high school should have as it is. I don't need them to lose sleep over the fact I'm currently unemployed.

"Yeah, I should. I just…my cleats are fucked, and Coach is gonna rip me a new one if I turn up in sneakers again."

My stomach sinks.

"How is being out of class helping here, exactly?" I ask, mentally trying to figure out how I'm going to get him a pair there in the next…I look at the clock again. Three hours.

"I was trying to get some money together. I've got some friends who owe me, but?—"

"Why didn't you just call me?" I ask, although I already know the answer. It's the reason why they both have jobs of their own.

"You know why, Lor. I fucking hate this."

"I know, but sometimes we've just got to swallow our pride and ask for help." The words taste like ash on my tongue.

That's all Tate wanted. It's why she applied for that job. She wanted to help me when I refused to help myself.

"I know," he mutters.

"Send me the link for what you need. I'll sort it," I say, sounding a lot more confident than I feel. He's going to want the best. Hell, he deserves the best. He's one hell of a player.

He sighs heavily.

"I mean the ones you really want, not the second-best pair that will lessen your guilt over this. I want to buy them for you, okay?"

"I'll pick up some more shifts. I'll?—"

"No, Wilder. Your focus needs to be football right now. It's your final chance to?—"

"Lori, I?—"

"I want to see you go all the way this year, Wilder. There might be miles between us, but I'm right behind you. And I'll be there. Your playoff game, the final. I'll be there screaming louder than everyone else."

I don't need to be able to see him to know he's scrubbing his hand down his face and rubbing at the designer stubble on his jaw.

On the outside, he's the stereotypical quarterback and bad boy. But there is so much more to Wilder. He has a sweet and vulnerable side that he doesn't let out very often.

"Okay," he finally says.

"Send me the link. I don't care how expensive they are. I'll order them right now and get the fastest shipping possible. I'll also email Coach and explain."

"No, you don't?—"

"Wilder," I warn. "Let me handle this. You need to go back to class."

"But—"

"Do not ‘but' me, young man," I chastise, pulling out my best parental voice. "I might want you to kick ass on the field, but I also want you to graduate."

"Fine," he says, as the sound of him moving around echoes down the line.

"I'll let you know when they're arriving."

"Thank you, Lor. You're the best sister in the world, you know that, right?"

I smile, my heart swelling.

"I love you, Wild Child."

He groans, hating that nickname just as much as he did as a kid.

"Love you too. Speak soon," he says before cutting the line to hopefully send me a link and then turn up to class. Late is always better than never.

It takes all of twenty seconds for my cell to ping with a link.

I'm pretty sure it takes longer for the site to open than it did to receive it, making me think Wilder was sitting there staring at the webpage as hopelessly as I was at the job ads.

"What a fucking—" My gasp of shock cuts off my muttering and my eyes widen at the price of what he's just sent through. "How much? Jesus, it really is a good thing I love you."

I find his size and then add them to the basket, all the while wondering how I'm going to swallow this cost.

I have savings, sure. But not enough to keep me afloat without an income for any substantial amount of time.

After putting the cleats and the stupidly expensive next-day delivery onto my credit card, I pull up Wilder's coach's email and send him something that I hope will pacify him. I like Coach Hardin. He's a ballbuster, but he's also fair. Wilder, and all the other boys, respect the hell out of him. They always have. He's the exact male role model that Wilder needs in his life if he stands any chance of keeping his head screwed on and making something of his skills on the field.

Without second-guessing this time, I return to that waitress job and apply.

It'll just be a stopgap while I wait for the perfect position to make itself known.

Something is better than nothing.

Abandoning my cell on the couch, I pull a blanket over me and grab the TV remote. I aimlessly scroll through the rom-com section of Netflix before I find a movie I've never seen before and snuggle deeper into the cushions.

It's a dubbed movie, and it takes all of three minutes for it to irritate me, but I don't turn it off. The guy is cute, and I figure that's good enough to put up with the non-existent lip sync.

As the movie continues, I sink lower and lower, and eventually, my eyes drift close.

I've no idea how long I drift off for, because when I'm startled awake, the sun is still streaming through the windows, the movie is still playing, yet my head is fuzzy, as if I'd fallen into a deep sleep.

I stare at the TV for a beat as my heart races. It takes a second to register that my watch is vibrating with an incoming call.

Rebecca.

Rebecca?

I'm about to ignore the call when reality hits.

Rebecca from Callahan Enterprises.

My stomach sinks. She's calling to thank me for my application but to let me know that I've been unlucky this time.

Honestly, the call is not necessary.

Although, I can't help but think that Kian would probably love to be the one to make it. I can almost hear the amusement in his voice as he explains that I won't be a Callahan Enterprises employee anytime soon, or ever.

I should cut the call and get on with my life. But my curiosity gets the best of me, and instead of shutting it down, I swipe the screen.

"Hello?" I ask, cringing that I once again sound half asleep when speaking to this woman.

At least I'm not hungover this time…

"Hi, Lorelei, it's Rebecca from?—"

"Hi Rebecca, how are you?" I ask politely, interrupting her full introduction.

"I'm good, thank you. I'm calling with news that I hope will make your day brighter."

My brows pinch and I sit up on the couch.

"Y-you are?"

"Congratulations, Lorelei. I'm thrilled to tell you that your application has been successful."

"I-I'm sorry. My w-what has what?"

Rebecca chuckles down the line.

"Your application for finance assistant," she explains as if there's a chance I've forgotten about the mortifying experience.

"B-but?—"

"I know this is last minute again, but I understand you're available to start immediately?"

"I—" I swallow, giving myself a moment to gather my thoughts.

What the fuck is happening right now?

My interview was up there with some of the worst of all time.

How am I being offered the job?

How fucking awful must the other candidates have been?

"Yes, I'm available."

"Fantastic. I have a few things to go through with you, and I'm going to need you to send me copies of your ID, but as long as everything is in place, how do you feel about starting the day after tomorrow?"

"Th-Thursday? This Thursday?" I stutter.

Honestly, if she had a concern about making me this offer, she really should now. I am not behaving like a Callahan Enterprises employee.

All of them are so confident and self-assured. I'm nothing but a bumbling idiot right now.

"Is that okay? I'm sure we could wait until next week if?—"

"No," I blurt as I hop to my feet. "Thursday is perfect."

I try to listen to everything she explains to me after that, but honestly, most of it goes in one ear and out the other.

I've got a job.

No. Not just a job.

A job with my dream company. A massive step toward my ultimate dream.

And I'll be able to buy Wilder a whole closet full of those cleats and Hendrix as many VR headsets and gaming computers as his heart desires.

Okay, that might be pushing it, but the pay increase I'm going to receive here is insane.

It's…

Fuck.

My head is spinning by the time I hang up, and my face aches from how wide my smile is.

"As one door closes, another opens. You just have to be ready to embrace the challenges."

Damn him for being right.

The fucking door just opened, and I am running through it at full speed before someone figures out that Rebecca just called the wrong candidate, and this is all a massive mistake.

I squeal in excitement and practically run through the apartment in the direction of my closet to try and figure out what the hell I'm going to wear on my first day.