Page 73 of The Player in New Zealand
Joe interrupted my thoughts. “I’ll send you the paperwork. Let me know tomorrow.”
“Yes, okay. Thank you.” He gave me a distracted smile before signing off.
Right. So. Joe wasn’t great. But I wouldn’t be working directly with him. I clicked around the McGraves’ website again, just to remind myself that the menu was awesome and I had a job offer. A job offer that would keep me in the country for another six months.
My phone buzzed and I pulled it from my pocket, the notification showing up on my phone: an email with the details. Opening it up, I saw the offer and the hourly wage—the higher pay rate made my eyebrows skyrocket until I remembered it was in New Zealand dollars. But after calculating the conversion rate, my eyebrows stayed up. The pay rate for a bartender in Auckland was better than I was making here and much, much better than I’d be getting in Boston.
I checked my other notifications and saw a return message from Iris that had come in two hours ago.
Call me when it’s done and lmk how it went!
That was optimistic. I did the math—I was getting better at it—and calculated that it was nearly ten p.m. for her. I was sure she was in bed already.
I got the job! Call me when you wake up.
I put Nina’s computer to sleep and stood up, tucking the chair under the desk. My phone, back in my pants pocket, vibrated consistently for an incoming call.
Iris’s face looked up at me from the lock screen as I answered the call.
“Hey. What are you still doing up?”
“I’ve had a busy day,” Iris said, sounding tired. “Don’t worry about it, though. Tell me about your new job.”
“Well, I haven’t accepted it yet.” I told her about the position, the restaurant, and the pay. She made all the correct noises, but I could tell she wasn’t really into it.
“Remind me again why you can’t stay in Wellington? At Haft & Hops?”
“Well, I could stay in Wellington,” I clarified, “but I would need to find a job here, and so far, no luck. I can’t stay at Haft & Hops because my visa only allows six months in one job. Apparently, that’s where the New Zealand government draws the line between long-term and temp work.”
“You really can’t find a job in Wellington?”
I sighed. “Not one that I like, or that Tane likes. He’s been a little bit pickier than I have.” The corner of my smile tipped up, remembering Tane telling me that I was damn good at my job and needed a place that deserved me.
“I think you should say fuck the job and travel,” Iris announced.
“That takes money, babe. I’m still working to pay you back.”
“I’ll send you the money again. We’ll just ping-pong thousands of dollars back and forth between our accounts and the bank will think I’ve got some odd thing going with money laundering in New Zealand.”
As nice as it was, I knew that wouldn’t work. She knew it too.
“Want to tell me about your day?” I asked.
She gave a deep sigh. “Chris and I had a fight. I don’t want you to worry about it, though.”
My eyebrows drew together. “What did you fight about?”
Her hesitation deepened my concern. I didn’t know Chris all that well. They’d dated for six months before moving to Chicago, but I was kind of wrapped up in my own shit at the time. I was glad for Iris when she’d moved with him. Of course we cried and promised to visit each other. But I hadn’t been able to do that.
“He didn’t, like, cheat on you, did he? I’ll gladly borrow that money again to fly back and kick his ass.”
That made her laugh and I relaxed a smidge. “No, no, nothing like that. We’re just having a disagreement about something.”
Iris’s evasion made me nervous. “Iris...”
“Claire...” she mimicked back, in the annoying way only a little sister can.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.”
