“You talk to the new people and I help you supplement your income. That's the way it works. Are you trying to break our deal? It's only been seventy-five years. I should've known you'd renege.”
“I'm not breaking anything.”
“Then keep talking!”
Murphy turned his attention back to me now that their squabble seemed to be resolved.
“Sometimes the things we do can be dangerous when you aren't as in tune. Accidents have happened.” He was back to fiddling with his pencil and the two of them were looking everywhere but at me.
“So we can die again?”
“There's death and then there's nothing. No retirement to a cushy mortal life, maybe a famous actor or just incredibly rich. Your energy is reabsorbed but you aren't actually anything, anymore.”
Wow, this really sucked. I was recruited to do a job I didn't know how to do and when I failed at it, which had a high probability, I ended up even worse off than dead?
“By the way, I never introduced myself. I'm Murphy. Of Murphy's Law?”
“And I'm Lady Luck. Luck for short.”
“So, how does this...” I waved a hand to encompass the office, them, everything. The entire situation was beyond surreal and made me doubt the reality I was in. But if I was going to be doing things that were dangerous, I needed to start gathering information yesterday. Twenty-five days now seemed like an eternity.
“Well, in my case, I help spread the luck around. Murphy is sort of my counterpart, spreading the opposite.” She patted him on the shoulder. “You're just all sunshine and happiness, aren't you, Murphy?”
“And what exactly is Harold?”
“He's middle management.” Murphy picked up another pencil and started to play mock drums as he spoke.
“Then who exactly do we work for?”
“The universe.” He hit an invisible cymbal.
“That's what Harold said, but is it a person? Have either of you seen this universe person or entity?”
“Nope. Everything is through Harold. It's a lot to take in, especially as a transfer. Why don't we get you settled in. Just try and lay low until your month is up,” Luck said. She motioned to the group of four desks clustered together that they were sitting on. “This one is mine.” She patted next to where she sat. “That's Murphy's, next to me and that's the one the Jinxes share. They don't use it, though.”
“Jinxes?”
She nodded and rolled her eyes. “They’re out in the field right, but it's not an introduction you want to rush.”
She got up and walked to the last remaining desk and pulled the chair out. “And you can have this one.”
“So, we work here, in this office?” I sat down in the offered chair in front of my desk and opened a couple of the empty drawers. The place didn't seem like somewhere I'd be in danger, but no one had told me exactly what it was I would be doing yet.
“No, we just like having desks,” Murphy explained, completely straight-faced.
I looked around at all the others in the office, no one hiding their curiosity at my presence and I was quite sure I'd fallen down the rabbit hole. This is why you always read contracts before you sign them. First contract I didn't read thoroughly and this is what I got.
“That's the Cat Lady, over there,” Luck pointed in the direction of a woman reading a gossip magazine in the corner, a black cat weaving itself through her legs. “We call her Kitty for short.”
“Why is a cat lady here?”
“Not a cat lady, the cat lady. Black cats? She sends them out right before someone is about to get really screwed.” She pointed to short little stubby guy walking across the room. “That's our leprechaun, Bert. He used to be in a different office, but got pulled over here for clover detail. I’d introduce you, but he’s in a real bad mood.”
“What's clover detail?” I looked about for some paper feeling like I should be taking notes.
“Too many people were finding four leaf clovers. Some leprechaun jerk thought it would be funny to get a little free and loose with the clovers. Now Bert is in charge of monitoring the numbers. The leprechaun responsible got early retirement.” Luck's eyes widened at the end of that statement.
Murphy held up a hand next to his mouth and whispered, “Poor as dirt and stuck in a boarding house, now.” Murphy pointed to a Goth looking guy by the water cooler. “He's Crow. He sends out a crow before death.”
“What about the guy in the jockey outfit?” I watched as he crossed the room and exited.
Luck perched next to me, a hip on my desk. “He's actually in one of the offices down the hall. He's in charge of the Night Mares.” She looked at the door to Harold's office and tilted her head in that direction. “And you already met Fate. The hand of Fate, to be exact.”
“Fate, as in destiny?”
Murphy nodded from where he sat across from me. “When a person is fated for a certain destiny, but things aren't lining up the way they should, he steps in.” Murphy put on a pair of reading glasses and pulled out a newspaper.
“I'm surprised he's talking to you or helping out.” Luck handed Murphy a pencil, which he eschewed for a pen.
“Why?”
“Hates transfers.”
“If being a transfer is such a problem, why did I get recruited?”
This interested Murphy enough to look up from his paper. “Now, that is the million dollar question.”
I took a seat at my new desk, not sure what else to do. I opened up the rest of the drawers to see if there were any office supplies. When I looked back up, Luck and Murphy were already walking away from me. I guess that was the end of my introduction.
So I sat there, alone. Eventually, I stole an extra newspaper from the corner and did the crossword. When noon rolled around, a strange woman showed up and laid out a buffet along the wall. She stopped at my desk and said “Eat,” which ended up being the last word said to me for the entire day, until five.
I picked through the food and selected a small turkey sandwich, which I nibbled at but had a hard time finishing. Nerves had always dampened my appetite and this situation was bringing them out.
Throughout the day, people came and went, doing who knew what. I'd read the entire newspaper and five different gossip mags I'd snagged from the front waiting room.
Occasionally, someone would come near me, but no one actually spoke. I pretended to ignore them. They could stare all they wanted. I'd be out of here, soon enough. I liked crosswords and gossip mags. I could do this for a month standing on my head, no problem.
At five o'clock, the driver, Hank, strode through the door and headed toward my desk. “I drive you home,” he said and turned on his heel, expecting me to follow. Hank was a man of very few words.
I went to grab my stuff before I remembered I had none. I was going to have to buy a purse, just to get rid of the feeling I was leaving something behind.
“Do you know when we get paid?” It felt like an awkward question, since I wasn't doing anything, but some cash would be good if I wanted to eat something I actually liked.
“Harold.”
I took that to mean ask Harold, I have no clue, and I let it drop. At least there was food in the condo. It had cable T.V. and it was beachfront. As long as I didn't think of Charlie, my parents, my friends...basically, as long as I didn't think at all, I could get through this.
I'd decided this was a very short-term purgatory for making a bad knee jerk reaction when I’d known better. I could handle beachfront purgatory that came with gossip mags and cable.
Chapter Six
How wrong I was. Day eleven of beach front purgatory and I was ready to kill my already dead body just to escape the boredom. I leaned my head on my palms as I watched the people in the office walk around. I knew I must have looked frazzled but I was past putting up a good appearance.