Page 4 of Not Fooling Anyone

I cautiously move past Dad into Marty’s office, eyeing the gruff man behind the desk. I’ve never actually met him, only heard about him from Dad, but he looks exactly how I pictured with his grizzled face and military-style haircut.

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell him, sticking out my hand for a handshake, but all I can think about is Ethan saying the same stupid thing. Ugh.

“Let’s get to it,” he says, returning my handshake before motioning for me to take a seat across from his desk. A man with little time for pleasantries. Finally, someone with their priorities straight.

He opens a filing cabinet and pulls out an honest-to-God ledger. I didn’t know people still used those. “My eyes are getting tired looking at all these columns and rows, and I’m doing well enough now to outsource it. Lawrence said you’re good at this stuff.”

I take the ledger from him and flip through it, trying to decipher his chicken scratch handwriting. “I am. But I’ll be honest, I’ve never actually used a physical one of these. Everything is online now.”

“Online,” he mutters. “Call me a Luddite, but doing it on paper works fine.”

I hide my smile. “I agree. It does work fine. But you can reduce errors and save time by letting the computer do the math for you.”

He grumbles something under his breath but concedes my point. “Tell me about your qualifications.”

I rack my brain, wishing I could have rehearsed, and list for him the classes I’ve taken for my major, including a small project I worked on last semester that involved some bookkeeping exercises. “I will say,” I admit, “I wasn’t exactly prepared for this today. Dad sprang it on me when I got here. If I had more time, I could have brought in a resume.”

His mouth briefly forms a smile. “He’s a little trigger happy, isn’t he?”

Yeah, that definitely describes him.

“So tell me what you’d recommend to use online.”

“Well, Quickbooks is kind of the standard for small businesses, but I don’t know the exact pricing off the top of my head.”

“So I have to pay a bookkeeper and for online stuff? Doesn’t seem right.”

“There’s free software out there that gets the job done, too. Especially if you don’t need anything complicated.”

“And what would you be doing?”

“I’d record transactions, check for accuracies, and reconcile discrepancies, to name a few things. Just differently than you’re used to doing. But before all that, this needs to be digitized.” I motion to the ledger, still unable to believe he’s been using that relic all this time.

He strokes his chin, eyeing me carefully. “How about fifty bucks a week for a few hours of work?”

“It’s going to take me longer than that to record everything from that ledger. Call it seventy-five and we have a deal.”

Please let my gamble pay off.

He lets out a rusty laugh. “I like a girl who can haggle. Shows you’ve got a spine. I’m not looking to hire a yes-man.”

“Um, thank you.” I’m not sure how else to respond.

“Okay, I’ll give you a trial run where you digitize whatever you need to, explain the bookkeeping system you decide on to me, and if I like how it sounds, we’ll make it permanent. Deal?”

I stand and shake his hand. “Deal.” I can do some unpaid work to get something better. Lord knows I’m not busy at the bar.

“This doesn’t leave my office, though. Got it?” He points to the ledger. “I’m already trusting you enough with my finances. You do the work you need to here.”

“Understood.”

We set up a time for me to come in later in the week to start transferring records from this mess of a ledger and I exit the office, giving Dad a thumbs-up on my way out as he spars with someone in the ring.

The guy with him turns, and I realize it’s Ethan. The tee he had on earlier is off now, his defined muscles glistening with sweat as he punches at the mitts on Dad’s hands, bobbing and weaving expertly, fierce concentration on his face. It’s a one-eighty from the affable, goofy guy from before, and I pause for a moment, caught off guard.

He stops when he realizes Dad’s attention has strayed, his gaze meeting mine briefly from across the room, flaring in recognition.

I hightail it out of there, not wanting to get trapped in another conversation with him. Not that it matters if I talk to him. It doesn’t.

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