Page 3 of A Malicious Menagerie
I’m so scrambled that I have to listen to the voicemail twice before the words “decided to go a different direction” finally register. After the message ends, I stare dumbly down at Old Reliable while static fills my brain.
Not only did I not get the job, but I just lost a significant chunk of income. I was barely scraping by as it was. Even if it only takes me a couple of weeks to find a new job—which will be a feat in and of itself with the way my shifts are stacked like a losing game of Tetris—I’m going to end up way behind on Nan’s bills. Where can I cut back? Food? I’m already on a nearly exclusive diet of ramen and off-brand peanut butter. There’s just no more fat to cut from my life.
Suddenly, Rebecca’s words come back to me.“For that money, it could be a tank full of sharks.”Appropriate, since my belly feels like it’s full of vicious predators.
Without conscious thought, I thumb through my recent calls to the familiar three dollar signs. Before I can talk myself out of it, I send the call.
“Anna,” Rebecca answers in her usual chipper voice. “I was running out of hope. I was about to offer the job to someone else.”
“Don’t bother. I’m interested. What’s the next step?”
2
The Contract
Two days later, I find myself standing outside of a red-brick office building in the fancy downtown area I never come to because I can’t afford anything here. Not even a coffee. The sign beside the door bears a simple logo, just two interlocking M’s, and an address that matches the one Rebecca texted to me. I hover on the sidewalk for several minutes, building up my courage, before forcing myself to venture inside.
The interior is eerily silent save for the rhythmic clacking of a keyboard. At the back of the lobby, an immaculately dressed receptionist sits at an ornate desk. It’s the only furniture in the room save for tasteful oil paintings of fantastical landscapes and impossible beasts. When I approach the desk, the woman’s eyes trail from her industrious typing up to meet my eyes. One perfectly groomed golden eyebrow raises curiously.
“Yes? Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m Anna Carmichael?” Somehow, it comes out like a question. “I’m here to see…” I glance down at the text on my phone. “Nathan Oliver?”
Her other eyebrow joins the first. “Of course. Just a moment.” She rises gracefully from her chair and disappears through the door with a quietsnickof the latch.
Alone with my thoughts, I start to wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. This place absolutely screams ‘sophisticated’ and ‘expensive.’ After talking to Rebecca, I’d convinced myself that I was willing to go cage divingwith sharks if it meant escaping endless nights waiting tables and mopping floors for peanuts. But this place… I don’t belong here, and I have the nagging feeling that this job might chew me up and spit me out.
I’m contemplating calling the whole thing off and sneaking out when the door opens again, and the receptionist returns with a man in a gray suit. He’s strikingly handsome, with carefully styled dark hair, tanned skin, and startling aquamarine eyes. His features would be at home on a movie star, and his suit is perfectly tailored to his broad shoulders and slim waist.
Damn.Not only am I underdressed, but I’m not attractive enough by half to work here if this is what they’re looking for. More evidence that I don’t belong here.
“Anna Carmichael, yes?” the man asks smoothly, holding out one broad hand and revealing an expensive gold watch winking from under his sleeve. “I’m Nathan Oliver.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, taking his hand. “I like your name,” I offer, nerves getting the better of me and making me babble. “I’ve always thought having two first names was cool. I’m nearly there, right, Anna Carmichael? But not quite.”
Nathan squints at me before turning to look askance at the receptionist. Her slender shoulders go up in a shrug that matches her lofted eyebrows, and internally, I’m fighting a blush with everything in me.Hush, Anna!
“Follow me, Ms. Carmichael,” he says at last, apparently electing to ignore my weird comment. Chastened, I follow Nathan through the door and into a hallway.
Dark hardwood stretches the length of the hallway, and the white walls are adorned with more fanciful artwork. As we pass a painting of a unicorn, I find myself wondering what the preoccupation is with mythological creatures. Is it a metaphor?
Nathan leads me into a spacious office dominated by a mahogany desk and packed floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. As he motions for me to take a seat by the desk, I skim some of the titles.War and Peace. 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. Sherlock Holmes.Either the man has a taste for the classics, or he wants people to think he does.
I carefully perch on the edge of the chair before promptly slipping on the slick leather. I just manage to save myself before my ass hits the floor, and I throw my weight back so abruptly that the sturdy chair scrapes backward an inch. I fling a panicked look at Nathan, my cheeks flaming. Did he see all that?
Unperturbed, Nathan settles into his chair with only a quick glance in my direction before he reaches down to pull open one of his desk drawers. Is the man a robot? He’s just so… reserved, and he gives nothing away. Was he custom-built to match the decor?
Oblivious to my thoughts, or just indifferent to them, Nathan retrieves a neat stack of papers. “I understand you’re here about the caretaker position.”
I swallow hard. “Yes.”
He looks away from whatever he’s reading and meets my eye. “Do you know anything about what the job entails?”
I nod then shake my head in quick succession and probably just manage to look like a bobblehead. “Yes, well, no. All Rebecca told me was that it involves taking care of animals.”
He nods. “Yes. Rare animals. Exotic animals.Expensiveanimals.” He spears me with a look. “Are you qualified to take care of such animals?”
Probably not.“Well,” I hedge, “I was pre-vet in college before I had to leave to take care of my ailing grandmother. I did some shadowing in vet clinics and things. And in high school, I volunteered at the zoo. And I’ve been walking dogs for the past three years.”
