Page 4 of A Malicious Menagerie
He raises a dark brow. “That’s it?”
Desperately scrounging for any skills I can claim, I blurt, “I can bottle-feed kittens. Clicker-train dogs. Suture wounds.” Well, I’ve technically onlywatcheda couple of vets close wounds in dogs, but close enough. It didn’t lookthathard. “And I wrap a mean purrito.”
Nathan stares at me blankly before asking, “A purrito?”
“You know, when you restrain a cat by wrapping them in a towel. A cat burrito. A purrito?” My voice trails off the longer he stares, and a blush steals across my face. “Like, the towel is the tortilla and the cat is the—”
“Yes, I understand the concept,” Nathan interrupts, and I purse my lips tohold back more nervous babbling. “Those are certainly some… skills.”
“And I’m highly motivated,” I blurt lamely, borrowing Rebecca’s term.
He scrutinizes me for a minute while I try not to squirm. Finally, he comes to a decision and nods. “I’m inclined to give you a chance, Ms. Carmichael.”
I don’t know whether to feel relieved or dismayed. “Thank you, Mr. Oliver.”
“Don’t thank me quite yet. There is one significant matter to address.” I watch curiously as he puts the papers he was holding down on the desk—my resume and something else that I can’t quite make out but looks like some kind of report—and pulls another stack of papers from his drawer. “In addition to the contract, you will have to sign a non-disclosure agreement.”
Now it’s time formyeyebrows to fly up. “An NDA? Why?”
“As I mentioned, the collection involves several rare and exotic animals,” he explains as he opens a long box and produces a fancy golden pen. “Such unusual species are at constant threat from theft.”
Or, and hear me out, the animals are already stolen, or maybe purchased on the black market, I think wryly. Oh, well. Makes no difference to me as long as I can afford the balance on Nan’s bills this month.
Nathan continues, “You are not to take pictures of the animals—as a matter of fact, a guard will take your phone when you enter the premises and return it as you leave. You are not to mention the animals to friends, family, strangers,anyone.You are not to mention the animals on social media. You are not to mention the nature of your duties. You are not to mention the name of your employer. The extent of what you may reveal to others is that you are ‘pet sitting’ for an individual. Any details you choose to fabricate are entirely at your discretion.”
My jaw drops. “You want me to make up a story about what I’m doing?”
“That is at your discretion,” he repeats, opening the pen and turning the contract toward me.
“And the money?” I ask. I know it’s in poor taste to talk so directly about wages, but I need to know if what Rebecca told me is true.
“Page three,” he says, and I flip through the contract until I find the section on compensation.
Sure enough, the salary is what I expected, though… “It says part of my paycheck will go directly to paying for my grandmother’s nursing home bills instead of coming to me first,” I point out warily.
He nods. “That is for your benefit. That money will not be subject to tax.”
“Really?” I ask, shocked. To not have to pay taxes on that chunk of money… But how…
“My employer—and soon to be yours, should you take this job—needs someone to care for his collection, but he has a big heart. He cares deeply for people, and if he can help you and your grandmother, he is happy to do so.”
It seems too good to be true, but then, that NDA… that tells me that it very well might be. “Can I read through all this and think about it?”
Nathan nods formally. “I’ll get us both some coffees. When I return, I can answer any questions you may have, and hopefully, you will be ready to sign.” He offers a small, distant smile before standing and crossing the office to the exit.
Once he’s gone, I flip through the extensive contract, my eyes swimming with all the legalese. Before I get too overwhelmed, I search for a few sections I might understand. I have to give two weeks’ notice should I choose to leave, though my employer is under no obligation to offer me the same and can terminate the position at any time. I don’t love that, but it’s not a deal breaker. It’s a night shift position, with expected hours nine to five but overnight, five days a week. I’m used to that, so also not a deal breaker.
The NDA is a little more concerning. It looks likeanymention of the job outside of an abstract confirmation that I have one would be an infringement. And any such infringement would result in immediate termination as well as a civil trial that would likely end in my complete financial ruin.
Then again, who do I really have to talk to about this job anyway? My high school friends all moved on to different colleges and lost touch. I work alone walking dogs and cleaning the hospital, and all the women who waited tables with me at Chucky’s Diner were nice but older. I wouldn’t exactly call us close friends. The only person I might be inclined to mention any of this to is Nan, but she doesn’t know I’ve been working three jobs as it is. Would signing this thing reallyaffect my life at all?
While all these thoughts are swirling around in my brain, Nathan returns with two white paper cups in hand. The one he sets in front of me has a fancy tulip poured into a layer of soft foam. I don’t know that I’ve ever drunk a latte before in my life, let alone one that can double as a work of art. I gingerly lift the cup and take a small sip, trying to preserve the carefully crafted flower for as long as possible.Damn,it’s delicious. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Nathan sets his own cup down and retakes his seat. “Now, have you run across any questions I can answer?”
“The contract says this job is five days a week,” I note. “I’m assuming there must be at least one other caretaker who covers the other two days?”
“That’s correct, there is another caretaker named John. You’ll overlap three days, but you’ll be alone two nights per week.”
