Page 24 of Targeted By Fate

It was a good day to go out looking too, because Boaz had a meeting that was going to take up a good chunk of his day, and frankly, knowing he was occupied had me not feeling guilty about being away from him. Because once again, I was self-imposing rules and regulations onto me. I needed to get over that.

The rideshare dropped me off at a central location and I took out my new phone, looked at my list of places to stop at, and went to the first one. It was a small office that was hiring and asked for people to apply in person. It sounded absolutely perfect… until I caught the person at reception, out of the corner of my eye, tossing the résumé straight into the trash. It was another case of “they weren’t really hiring.”

That was the most frustrating part of this. It wasn’t that I was applying for jobs and there were better candidates. Most of the jobs didn’t even exist from what I could tell. Why were they advertising them? I didn’t know. Humans were weird.

My next stop was a small insurance company that was looking for someone to watch the front desk. They called it some weird, bloated name, but that was what it boiled down to. And I got an interview on the spot, which felt great—and I thought I did really well. They said I would hear from them “soon,” only to discover, “soon” meant when I was one block down at a coffee shop grabbing something to drink where I got a text saying:

We’re sorry, but we’ve decided to go another direction.

And since there was no way they could’ve interviewed anyone else in that time, “another direction” was simply their way of saying: Not you.

A medical clinic was next. It was shifter-owned, and the person who took me to fill out the application—on their computer, which apparently were different from computers at home, told me very bluntly that they didn’t like to hire what they considered “prey.” Apparently, my beast just didn’t suit their big-cat vibes or whatever.

It was getting frustrating. That was a lie. It had long surpassed “getting” and was now in the middle of frustration dumpster fire.

I stopped at a little café for lunch and to recalculate my day. And while I was waiting for my sandwich, I got a text from my mate:I hope your day is going well. You’ve got this, Kitten. You’ve got this.

I looked down at the phone. He had so much more belief in me than I had in myself.Thanks, getting lunch now,and I punctuated it with three happy faces.

Then I put my phone back in my pocket just as my number was called. People were starting to come in, the cafe pretty crowded now, and I was glad I was able to get a table. My sandwich was good, but I spent most of the time tapping away at my phone, seeing if any new positions opened up.

“Anyone sitting here?” I looked up and saw a man who I guessed was either a bear or maybe a raccoon shifter. Hard to tell. Stupid nose.

I tilted my neck so he could see the mating mark on my shoulder, and he chuckled.

“No, I just need a place to eat.” He showed me his mark.

“Oh. Sorry. Please, join me.”

I liked that about the shifter community. You didn’t have to play the “Oh, I have a boyfriend” or “I don’t have a boyfriend” game. You just showed your mark. Boom. Done. Message received.

I went back to work, typing away on my phone, grabbing a bite of sandwich here and there as he ate. And eventually, I just gave up on finding more positions and put my phone down a little too hard.

“Bad day?” he guessed.

“Bad multiple days. I’m looking for a job, and either I can’t get an interview, or there is no real job, or once I do get an interview, they’re ‘going in another direction.’” I used air quotes for that.

“Well, I know a place that’s hiring. Not sure it’s what you’d be into.” That sounded cryptic, but I was desperate.

“I’m into just about anything right now.” I went on to tell him about how I caught my boss cheating on his husband and lost my position.

“Eek. That sucks.”

“Yeah, no kidding. So as you can see, I’m game.”

“All right. The bar is called Moonbound. Apparently, they hire anyone. Well, anyone that—you know—is like us.”

I assumed he meant shifter, but it felt too rude to ask if he was a cat too.

“Thanks for the help.”

“Yeah. No problem. We’ve all been there. Thanks for the table.”

I didn’t even catch his name as he walked away, and I decided to keep this bar as a last resort. I’d been down that route before, and it didn’t go very well.

Last resorts came quickly when you were looking for a job. Four hours later, I was walking into Moonbound. And unlike the last time I went through the service industry process, they said yes almost instantly.

I said, “I’m looking for a job,” and the bartender was like, “Let me get the boss man.” The owner came over, and… boom, I was hired.

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