Page 79 of Carry On
Didn’t have the experience.
Didn’t have the references.
It pissed me off. How the hell was anyone supposed to get ahead in this fucking world? My military experience was worthless to these people because it was so long ago.
You’re worthless,the voice reminded me ever so bluntly.
That cell phone Lincoln had given me dinged, and I struggled to get it out of my back pocket. The ridiculous thing was bulky and obnoxious, but I suffered through it because I was supposed to. This and all the other little technological things that made the goddamn world go round.
LINCOLN: How is the job search going?
“Fuck,” I muttered. I dropped the phone on the table, not giving a fuck if it clattered. Hell, it could’ve broken for all I cared.
I’d told him I’d get a job. Promised him. It was supposed to be an easy task. Who the fuck couldn’t get a goddamn job?
You,the voice commented.
Of course, me.
Because I didn’t fucking qualify for anything. Anywhere.
Well, that was a lie. I could get a retail job—maybe—but there was a damn good chance that I’d fuck someone or something up if I got a job working with the general public. I didn’t like people enough to deal with the general public.
It’s going.
LINCOLN: That’s so cryptic.
I don’t know what you want from me. It’s going. That’s the best I’ve fucking got.
LINCOLN: Okay.
LINCOLN: Do you need any help from me?
No.
I ran a hand over my face, frustrated as fuck. I didn’t know how to make him understand.
No one can understand,the voice replied.
I knew that all too well.
LINCOLN: So, you know how we’ve talked about making this whole thing look real?
Are we talking about repeating last night?
LINCOLN: Mrs. Moore saw us last night.
Fuck.
That bitch probably had a laundry list of things to say to him. I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d gotten him in trouble.
I’m sorry.
LINCOLN: I’m not.
LINCOLN: It was absolutely worth pointing out to her that she was the one who continued watching.
Jesus fuck. For how long?
