Page 36 of Secret Baby for Mr. Grump

The last time I arrived in New York, I held only two hundred dollars in my pocket and the number of the man who owned the construction company. Leverman. My former employer gave it to me upon leaving. He was one of the few people who were unhappy to see me go.

“Hard workers like you don’t come by easily these days,” he grouched on my last day, slapping his hand on my shoulder and shaking his head regretfully. Then, he slipped me the note. “A friend of mine owns a construction company in New York. I told him about you. You should reach out to him when you get there.”

And that was exactly what I did when I got here.

I called him after I got off the subway, which was a mistake because one of the pickpockets swarming around managed to nab twenty dollars from me.

Still, we set up a meeting over the phone, and on the way to it, I gave a homeless man twenty dollars, which brought me down to a grand total of a hundred and sixty dollars to my name.

Still, I didn’t regret giving it to him. It was cold, and the man’s jacket looked threadbare. Plus, it wasn’t like the twenty dollars would make a difference to me anyway.

If I didn’t get the job today, I would be screwed.

The meeting took place in downtown New York. The lady at the front desk led me to the owner’s office through a thin narrow staircase that looked like it hadn’t been fortified enough at the bottom.

The man eyed me shrewdly as I entered and sat down.

“How long have you been working in construction?” he asked, and I appreciated that he got right to the point without engaging in niceties.

“Fifteen years,” I answered honestly, and his eyebrows shot up. I’d been working in construction since I was in high school. It was with Ferril, the same boss I had up until I left Summit. At the time, he paid me less than minimum wage under the table, but he was the only one willing to overlook my age and give me the job anyway.

“How old are you?” the man asked next.

“Old enough,” I responded, and his lips kicked up in a smile. He dropped the folder he was holding, leaning forward with his hands folded together.

“So,” he said. “Ferril tells me you were recently in trouble with the law.”

My stomach tightened, both because I hated the reminder and because I was half sure this entire thing was a sham. He was going to mention my criminal record, and the whole thing would be off. I would have wasted my last two hundred dollars on this trip for nothing.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

Rather than being offended, the man merely smiled a little.

“They said you killed someone,” he continued with curiosity rather than accusation in his tone. “That you beat a man to death.”

I said nothing in response, letting the silence stretch until it was insulting.

“That’s not true, is it?” he asked, and again, I was quiet. There was nothing I could say to absolve myself even if I wanted to. And I didn’t. This bullshit had been all I heard for the past few weeks, and I was officially tired of it being the title of my life.

I was right about to get up and walk out of the room, weary of whatever game the man was playing, when he finally held up both hands in surrender.

“Fine, fine, I get it. You don’t want to talk about it. Fine.”

I still got up and turned to leave when he suddenly yelled, “Don’t go! You got the job!”

I turned to see that the man had gotten up with a semi-desperate look in his eyes and a sheepish smile. Unsure if he was still toying with me, I tried to look for the honesty in his facial features.

“You got it the minute you walked in, to be honest,” he said. “I’m just incurably nosy and almost let it run way ahead of myself.”

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously at him. “Why?”

“Why am I nosy? Well, I suppose it starts with my mother—”

“Why are you hiring me?” I clarified. Even with a recommendation from his friend, a criminal record was a criminal record. There was no reason why he should be this eager to get me on the team.

“There’s just something about you, something very…competent and dependable. And honest.” The man shrugged. “Also, most of my men don’t have half your experience. Whatever it is, I get the feeling you’re going to make me a lot of money.”

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