Terrible Advice From a Career Temp- Chapter Four: Steady Pay- Steady Life

Sofie had her baby in early spring, an event that turned the entire household into an excitement-fueled relay team.

Benny was beside himself with joy.

He barely left Sofie’s side at the hospital, and when the nurse finally placed the pink-cheeked bundle in his arms, Benny went soft as butter in a skillet.

The baby's official name was Mara Dignity-Rae Pail.

Almost nobody called her that.

Within twenty-four hours, she was Smol.

The nickname originated with Sofie, who couldn't look at her daughter without announcing,

“Look how smol she is!”

She said it approximately every five minutes.

Eventually everyone else gave up and joined her.

“Where’s Smol?”

“Smol needs changing.”

“Did Smol eat?”

“Why is Smol screaming?”

Dena occasionally tried to use Mara, mostly out of concern that the child might someday need to know her legal name.

Nobody else cooperated.

While Sofie recovered, Dena and Piper tackled the move into their new over-the-garage apartment—the one they'd all sacrificed weekends and picked up extra shifts to afford.

It had two bedrooms.

It had its own washer and dryer.

Most importantly, no semitrucks rattled the windows at three in the morning.

Piper discovered she had reached an age when household appliances could genuinely improve her quality of life.

She pulled a load of warm towels from the dryer and buried her face in them.

“I am never going back.”

Dena laughed as she started folding.

“Smells like a win.”

It did.

The apartment wasn't luxurious. Piper still shared a bedroom with her mother, and there was still only one bathroom for an alarming number of people.

But it was quieter.

Cleaner.

Safer.

Better.

Piper was learning that adulthood wasn't necessarily a sequence of dramatic transformations.

Sometimes success was a dryer that actually dried things.

Benny, meanwhile, embraced fatherhood with surprising seriousness.

He worked every shift he could get because he'd decided Sofie and Smol needed a family car.

Piper remained convinced that Benny and Sofie were far too young to be parents.

She was equally convinced they were doing a pretty good job of it.

She was proud of them.

Piper's own schedule wasn't bad either.

Between poker events and her part-time smoothie-shop grind, she stayed busy without feeling as though work had consumed her entire existence.

With Sofie occupied by Smol and Benny working overtime to maintain the household's increasingly alarming diaper supply, Piper filled whatever gaps appeared.

Errand runner.

Coffee supplier.

Emergency babysitter.

Playful auntie.

Unqualified lullaby specialist.

A few weeks in, the chaos began settling into something resembling a routine.

Smol sometimes slept through the night.

Dena began doing most of her work remotely.

Benny graduated from demolition crew to full-fledged drywall installer.

Piper even enrolled in a few online community-college classes, mostly to prove to herself that she could juggle something besides poker chips.

Things were moving.

Slowly.

But forward.

She still heard from Hawk.

Not constantly.

Often enough.

He was apparently finishing another work assignment, this one involving what he described as “winning hearts and minds” in North Africa.

Piper wasn't entirely sure what that meant.

She pictured either diplomacy or a talent competition.

Possibly both.

She liked it when he called instead of texting. Sometimes his voice disappeared into static, but the effort mattered.

They had developed a running joke that they'd see each other every summer, like some sort of low-maintenance migratory friendship.

“He must be lonely,” Dena said one evening after overhearing one of their calls.

“Probably.”

“Maybe that's why he keeps calling you.”

Piper looked suspiciously at her mother.

“He's also allergic to routine. The Marines might be why he's still single.”

Dena smiled in a way Piper chose to ignore.

Over the winter, Piper had hit her stride with Ansel's company.

She and Malika had gone from wary coworkers to full-fledged work wives.

Malika had redeemed herself completely by recruiting new employees who were friendly, competent, and generally familiar with the concept of deodorant.

Petie and Sawyer were gone.

Nobody missed them.

With better people on the floor, service improved.

Tips improved.

Even the van rides improved.

Piper learned to serve drinks between games and perfected what Al called her Ms. Amazing Smile—the bright, effortless expression she deployed whenever a customer said something she didn't understand, didn't care about, or had already heard six times that evening.

Al once watched her use it on a drunk businessman explaining cryptocurrency.

“You deserve Employee of the Month.”

“We don't have Employee of the Month.”

“That's the only thing standing in your way.”

Unfortunately, the winter rush eventually ended.

Ansel had warned everyone that it would.

The bookings slowed.

The money slowed.

Then, in late May, Piper experienced her first truly awful workday.

It was a wedding.

That should have been warning enough.

The trouble began in the group chat before Piper even left home.

Al was running late because the bride had submitted another series of last-minute changes.

Then another.

The catering order changed.

The uniforms changed.

The makeup requirements changed.

Server positions changed.

Then some of them changed back.

By the time Piper arrived, she wasn't entirely certain what job she was doing.

Neither, apparently, was anybody else.

Ansel had brought in two inexperienced hires and asked the regular staff to train them on the fly.

Piper quickly realized what had happened.

Ansel had overpromised.

Worse, he'd apparently spent enough of the deposit that backing out was no longer a financially viable option.

He was trapped.

So were they.

Before the event began, he gathered everyone for a pep talk.

“This could be huge for us,” he said. “Ramon got us in the door. If we do well tonight, we can start getting recommended for more weddings.”

Everyone nodded.

“Wedding entertainment is steady business. It's all about word of mouth.”

Piper glanced at Malika.

Malika glanced back.

Both understood that word of mouth was currently the only thing separating them from disaster.

“Just keep everything professional,” Ansel finished. “Be flexible. Make the guests happy.”

Simple enough.

In theory.

Then the wedding ended twenty minutes early.

Cocktail hour somehow ran long.

The photographer and several groomsmen became obsessed with getting an apparently impossible photograph, leaving a growing crowd of hungry guests with nothing to do.

Piper received instructions to “stall with whatever party tricks you know.”

She did not know any party tricks.

At least none appropriate for formalwear.

Flaming shots occurred to her.

She decided against them on the grounds that she preferred employment without felony charges.

Instead, Piper invented Guess the Cocktail.

It worked.

Possibly too well.

The only liquor available in sufficient quantity was an enormous bottle of Gold's Vodka that had apparently been intended partly as decoration.

By the time the photographer achieved whatever masterpiece he'd been attempting, several relatives were considerably happier than they had been twenty minutes earlier.

Malika rescued Piper by producing actual games she'd learned working clubs.

At one point she organized a limbo contest among the seniors.

Piper watched a seventy-something grandmother disappear beneath the pole while half the wedding cheered.

“Where did you learn this?” Piper asked.

“Long story.”

“Good money?”

“Excellent money.”

Piper nodded.

That was explanation enough.

Then Bert arrived.

By the time Ramon and Al finally opened the buffet, Piper was behind the bar.

Bert wandered over.

“Wow,” he said. “Must be my lucky night. Getting served by a good-looking college girl like you.”

Bert was heavy, middle-aged and bald in a way that reminded Piper unfortunately of a plucked chicken.

There was also a mysterious stain on the sleeve of his dress shirt.

Piper immediately felt sorry for him.

“Actually, I'm not at a university,” she said. “Couldn't afford it. I'm doing community college right now.”

Bert nearly coughed into his beer.

“Really? I'd have pegged you for some rich girl who wouldn't bother with the likes of me.”

Piper didn't know how to respond to that.

She settled on humor.

“Nope. I'm just good at being poor.”

She winked.

This was a mistake.

Piper handed the bar over to Trish and returned to her poker table.

Bert followed.

Not aggressively.

More like a depressed shadow.

John kept bringing him drinks until Bert's ex-wife finally intervened and cut him off.

Piper learned considerably more about Bert's marriage than she wanted.

His ex-wife had invited him out of pity.

According to Bert, she had spent years “nagging” him about his cheating.

According to Bert, the cheating had been caused by her being a “dead fish” in bed.

Piper listened to this explanation with her Ms. Amazing Smile.

She was becoming extremely good at that smile.

“That's rough,” she said.

It was the safest response she could produce.

Bert apparently interpreted basic customer service as profound emotional intimacy.

By the end of the evening, he regarded Piper as one of the few people who truly understood him.

Piper regarded Bert as someone whose ex-wife deserved a medal.

At last, it was time to leave.

Piper made one final pass through the venue to ensure they hadn't forgotten anything.

That was when Bert appeared.

“Hey!”

Piper turned.

Bert came charging toward her with his arms open.

“Gee, you're a swell lady!”

Before Piper could react, he wrapped her in a drunken hug.

Then he lifted her.

“Bert—”

He spun.

Piper felt one of his feet catch.

There was a horrifying second when both of them seemed to understand exactly what was about to happen.

Then they went through the glass entrance door.

The entire pane shattered.

For a moment, Piper lay frozen amid safety glass.

Bert was beside her.

Everyone stared.

Piper slowly moved her fingers.

Then her toes.

Nothing hurt.

Bert sat up.

“Oh, God.”

Piper looked at the destroyed door.

“Yeah.”

“Oh, God, I'm sorry.”

“Are you bleeding?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“I'm so sorry.”

Bert's annoyed driver appeared and began shepherding him toward the waiting car before he could destroy any additional architecture.

Piper remained on the floor for another second.

Malika appeared above her.

“You okay?”

“I think so.”

Malika looked at the door.

“Wedding business.”

Piper nodded.

“Steady money.”

Piper swept up the glass.

She sent Ansel a message explaining what happened.

He told her not to worry.

So she didn't.

Or tried not to.

The long evening of entertaining hungry wedding guests and emotionally babysitting divorced men was finally over.

Her tips were terrible.

Her feet throbbed.

Her back hurt.

She missed the retirees.

Retirees knew how to have fun.

Wedding season, Piper decided, was trying to kill her.

When she got home, she slept on the couch rather than risk waking Dena.

She turned off her phone.

For a few hours, sleep made everything somebody else's problem.

The next morning, someone knocked on the apartment door.

Dena was making coffee.

Sofie sat in the recliner nursing Smol while watching the news.

Benny had already gone to work.

Dena opened the door.

Ansel stood outside.

“Sorry to drop by like this, but I can't get ahold of Piper. Have you seen her?”

Dena looked over at the couch.

Piper was unconscious beneath a blanket.

“Unfortunately, yes.”

She walked over and shook her.

“Piper.”

Nothing.

“Piper.”

Piper groaned.

“Your boss is here.”

Her eyes opened.

There were few phrases in the English language capable of waking a person faster.

“My what?”

Piper sat upright.

Ansel stood in the doorway.

She grabbed her phone.

Missed calls.

Texts.

Voicemails.

Her stomach dropped.

The door.

Of course.

She looked at Ansel.

“It's about the glass door, isn't it?”

He stepped inside.

“Piper, I'm sorry to do this, but I have to fire you.”

She stared at him.

There it was.

Her first firing.

Piper had always imagined there would be paperwork.

Maybe an office.

Possibly a desk.

She had not expected to be fired barefoot in her pajamas while her sister breastfed six feet away.

“The bride complained to the venue,” Ansel explained. “Bert's ex-wife complained to the bride.”

Piper tried to follow the chain of command.

“About the door?”

“No.”

That was unexpected.

“About you.”

“Me?”

“She says you were flirting with Bert and encouraging him to drink.”

“I wasn't!”

“I know.”

“I spent half the night trying to get away from him.”

“I know.”

“John was serving him.”

“I know.”

“And he hugged me.”

“I know.”

Piper stared.

“Then why am I getting fired?”

Ansel sighed.

“The venue gave me an ultimatum. I fire you, or they report the incident and push to have my liquor license pulled.”

There it was.

Piper finally understood.

Not justice.

Business.

“Without my license, I'm done,” Ansel said. “I lose the company.”

Piper was angry.

But she also understood.

That somehow made it worse.

“So I'm easier to lose.”

Ansel's face fell.

“Yeah.”

At least he didn't lie.

Piper swallowed.

“Okay.”

“I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

It wasn't.

But she appreciated that he'd driven all the way to her apartment instead of firing her through a text message.

Ansel patted her shoulder.

“I'll mail your last check.”

“Thanks.”

Then he left.

Piper sat back down.

Nobody spoke for a moment.

Dena finally said, “I'm sorry, honey. It happens to the best of us.”

Sofie adjusted Smol against her chest.

“I finally understand what ‘shit rolls downhill’ means.”

Piper looked at her.

“Thank you, Socrates.”

“I'm serious. Bert gets drunk. Bert's ex gets mad. The bride complains. The venue threatens Ansel. Ansel fires you.”

Sofie looked down at Smol.

“Shit rolled through six people and landed on the one making twenty-five dollars an hour.”

Piper considered this.

“That is disturbingly accurate.”

Dena handed her coffee.

“Welcome to working life.”

Piper took it.

“I hate working life.”

“You'll get used to it.”

“That doesn't make it better.”

“No.”

Oddly, that did.

Piper went into the bedroom.

She probably would've left the poker job eventually anyway.

The work was inconsistent.

Wedding season was miserable.

She still had the smoothie shop.

None of that mattered.

Getting fired hurt.

She opened her phone.

There was Hawk's usual good-morning message.

Piper typed:

I got fired 😭

His response came almost immediately.

Their loss.

Piper smiled despite herself.

Then another message appeared.

You free this weekend?

Piper sat straighter.

That was an abrupt change in subject.

100%

The typing dots appeared.

Then:

I'm sending you a ticket. Can you visit for a week this time?

Piper bit her lip.

Yup.

Another message.

Check your email. I'll see you soon.

Piper opened her inbox.

There it was.

An airline ticket.

She stared at the destination.

Hawaii.

Ten minutes earlier, she'd been fired barefoot in front of her family.

Now she had a plane ticket to Hawaii.

Adulthood was apparently less of a journey and more of being repeatedly thrown down a staircase and occasionally landing in first class.

Piper walked back into the living room.

Dena and Sofie were making breakfast.

Smol had fallen asleep.

Piper leaned against the doorway.

Neither woman noticed her expression at first.

Then Dena looked up.

“What?”

Piper grinned.

“Looks like I'm going to Hawaii with Hawk.”

Dena stopped cooking.

Sofie looked up.

There was a beat of silence.

Then Sofie said:

“See? Shit rolls downhill.”

Piper frowned.

“How does that apply here?”

“It doesn't. I just learned it today.”