In front of the reception desk is a thick area rug that swallows up the clack of my heels as I approach. Behind it sits a white-haired, middle-aged man who peers at me over thick, horn rimmed glasses, balanced precariously near the tip of his rounded nose. He’s wearing a white office shirt, but with sleeve garters.
Where do you even buy stuff like that? Maybe they came with the typewriter.
I push down the urge to giggle, because he doesn’t look like the type that would be amused.
He stands. “Ms. Anderson, I presume?” His voice is just as stodgy and emotionless as his expression. He seems entirely unenthused to be here, and like my presence is about as welcome as a fly in his soup. Not a great start. I hope he’s not a reflection of the rest of the office.
I nod. “Yes, that’s me. I’m here to meet Declan Riordan.”
“Ms. Anderson,” He pushes his glasses back into place and my palms start to sweat. “Do you know the difference between a dead lawyer and a dead dog in the street?”
I blink. Words fail me, and I wonder if I’ve had some sort of altitude related mini-stroke on my way up that left me unable to understand English. Is he telling a joke?
“There’re skid marks in front of the dog,” he replies without so much as cracking a grin.
Do I laugh here? I don’t know. Am I on camera? For a moment the only sound is the soft hum of the office behind him while we stare at each other.
The moment of silence drags on. So awkward. My gaze flicks around the office while I try to come up with an appropriate response. Heat rushes to my face when I can’t. “I—”
He slaps his hand to his desk, breaking into uncontrolled laughter. “Oh God, you’re the best one yet.” He slaps again, laughing so hard he has to support himself on the counter. He looks up at me, his bright eyes crinkled in laughter. “You should see your face right now.” He can barely gasp out the words.
I can only stare in wonder, hoping my heart starts beating again before I pass out.
Finally, he gathers himself, standing up straight. “I’m sorry. They say it takes a while to get used to me, which isn’t a very good trait in a receptionist.” He puts his hand out. “I’m Carl. Welcome to Riordan & Flynn. Technically, it’s just Riordan since Flynn was bought out years ago, but two names sounds more professional. Don’t you think?” He’s still grinning, but I’ve recovered enough to decide he means well, even if he’s a little crazy.
“Absolutely.” I take his hand as he steps out from behind his desk. “I’m Claire, the new intern. Which you probably already knew... Sorry, nerves.”
He’s gracious enough not to tease me about it, and his friendly smile doesn’t falter. “Here, let me show you the way. It’s a big office and we’d hate to lose you on your first day. When I first started, I hardly ever left my desk, afraid that I wouldn’t find the way back.” He winks. “Besides, Mr. Riordan doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
Alrighty, then. “Sure. Lead the way.” What have I gotten myself into?
Befriend the receptionists, my economics professor once told me. They’re the gatekeepers. The ones who determine whether your paperwork ends up on top of the pile or buried in the “archive”. My professor never met Carl, but he seems harmless enough. When he turns to look at me with an arched eyebrow, I smile and hurry after him.
I try not to be too obvious about watching the flurry of activity around me. In the open landscape, it’s like an ant farm, stylish people sitting desk to desk, hurriedly typing, murmuring in low tones and looking very busy and important. Will I fit in here? This internship is exactly what I need for a jump start before I start law school in the fall, but I feel so out of my depth.
Mom’s voice is in my ears like she’s standing next to me. “Behave yourself, do what you’re told, and please, please don’t do anything to upset Garrett. He’s already uncomfortable about giving you this opportunity just because you’re my daughter.” Never mind my GPA and Political Science degree, of course. It’s not like I’m not qualified.
I know what she means though.
Garrett Riordan’s my new stepfather. Or rather, will be in a couple of weeks. I’ve only met him once, a brief introduction when I was home for spring break. He was handsome, for an older guy, but all business. A real hardass. I’m not sure he smiled the entire time we were in the same room.
Whatever. If he’s what Mom wants, I won’t stand in her way. She’s earned a bit of happiness.
Our house is total chaos because of it right now, as she’s buried deep in wedding planning, sorting menu selections, guest lists, and preparing to move to Garrett's place on top of all that. Living there is driving me crazy and makes me wish I hadn’t let the lease on my apartment run out, but there wasn’t much point in keeping it over the summer.