Disclaimer: I own nothing from The Walking Dead. The characters from TWD belong solely to the creators of the graphic novel and/or television series.
Wake Up Call
Chapter 1
"Morning, Pookie." Carol waggled her eyebrows at a bleary-eyed Daryl from over the top of her reading glasses. She sat at the kitchen table with her laptop opened up in front of her and a cup of piping hot coffee set to the side.
"Why you wearin' those? You can spot a buck in the woods from a half mile away." Carol grinned at that.
"I know. I think it looks sophisticated. What do you think?"
"Think ya look beautiful just the way you are." His ears turned red at the admission, and he cleared his throat. Normally, Carol would take the opportunity to tease him into an awkward, flirty banter, but she could see from the blush in his cheeks that he was probably internally cringing at his own words. Instead, she gave him a smile and took the reading glasses off.
"Well, I was going for sophisticated," she sighed. "Three interviews last week and not one offer."
"Give it time. Ya just graduated two weeks ago. Hell, most folks would kill to have even one interview in two weeks. You're gonna find a job."
"You know, babies are born every year. Kids are growing up and going to school. You'd think the demand for teachers would be higher than it is right now."
"Maybe you'll get lucky. Maybe a teacher'll retire this year."
"Maybe," Carol sighed. "I'm not sure I can wait that long. If I don't find something by the end of the summer, I might have to look elsewhere." Daryl paused at the fridge with the carton of orange juice in his hand.
"Whaddya mean?"
"I don't know," she shrugged. "Maybe I'm not supposed to stay here. Maybe I'm supposed to go somewhere else, start a new life somewhere else." Daryl stood there for a moment.
"Thought you wanted to stick around here for a while? We ain't even finished unpackin' yet." Daryl gestured toward the stack of boxes in the corner of the kitchen. After graduation, Carol's mother had revealed that the little house her grandparents had built when they'd gotten married was all hers. Her grandmother had left the house to Carol, and with the help of her mother and some money set back by her grandmother to pay for a year's worth of utilities and taxes, Carol was a new home owner. The place wasn't huge. At least not compared to some of the other large homes in the area. Still, it was a three-bedroom, two bathroom home that needed a lot of fixing up, and Carol knew it was going to take a lot more than just her to fix the place up.
Luckily for her, her best friend since second grade, Daryl Dixon, was a certified electrician, a great mechanic and was proving to be pretty handy replacing the old plumbing around the place. He had wanted to get away from the old trailer he'd been staying in since his older brother Merle took off to parts unknown, so it only seemed natural that they move in together and start fixing up the place.
"I know," Carol murmured. "I'm not planning on going anywhere yet. I'm just trying not to panic. Student loans aren't going to pay themselves. You're lucky you already have a job. At least they pay you well." Daryl had been hired in as an electrician at a factory in town about a month ago.
"Right. That means I can buy the groceries for a while. I mean, your grandma set you up pretty good, so you don't gotta worry 'bout utilities."
"You don't have to buy food for my house."
"I'm livin' here rent free. It ain't a problem, Carol." Carol smiled a little at the sound of her name on his voice. He didn't say her name often, but when he did it always made her smile. He sat down at the table and turned her laptop toward him. He furrowed his brow. "You ain't gonna find nothin' if you keep your search right here in town. King County's got at least ten schools."
"I already tried that," Carol snorted. "I'm narrowing my search in hopes of finding something that slipped through the cracks."
"It's the internet. Nothin' slips through the cracks." Carol pouted at that, and Daryl cleared his throat. "Why don't ya try lookin' for somethin' that ain't necessarily teachin'?"
"What do you mean?"
"What about pre-schools? Or daycare centers? Or what about those places that work with kids after school?" Daryl started searching, while Carol watched him and sipped her coffee. She couldn't help but grin at the sight of him chewing on his bottom lip in concentration. His blue eyes didn't falter from the screen, and she could see the determination set firmly in his face.
"You just don't want me to leave," she teased.
"'Course I don't. We've known each other forever." He looked at her. "You're my best friend."
"I know," Carol murmured, smiling as she playfully nudged his leg with her foot under the table. "And you're mine, Pookie."
"Stop," he snorted. "Hey. What about this?" He turned the computer back toward her. She narrowed her eyes. "The King County Herald?"
"Yeah, see these ads. Folks lookin' for help."
"Well, I'm not looking to mow any yards or walk any dogs. Although, that actually sounds a lot more fun than changing diapers and wiping noses at the daycare for minimum wage." Daryl scrolled through the page until he found something that caught his eye.
"Hey, look at this."
"What?"
"Just read it," he urged. Carol sighed and read the ad. "Wanted: Nanny for young child. Must be available Monday through Friday from 8am to 5pm. Must be flexible with hours and willing to work late if needed. $2,000 per week through Christmas." Carol nearly choked on her coffee. "Surely that's a typo." She read through the rest of the ad. "This sounds too good to be true. 2,000 bucks a week to take care of a kid?" She did some very fast math in her head. "Jesus, that's over 50,000 dollars. This has to be some sort of joke."
"Won't know if ya don't call," Daryl shrugged. "Hell, say it don't work out. Say it lasts a month. That's still like 8,000 bucks. That's somethin' right?"
"That's something," Carol murmured. "If anything, I can keep looking for teaching jobs in the meantime. Daryl, you really think I should do this? I don't know much about kids. I mean, babysitting that kid Merle's old girlfriend tried to pass off as his for a couple days doesn't count." She made a face. "I like kids. I just don't know if kids like me."
"Maybe this kid will," Daryl offered.
"You really want me to look into this, don't you?"
"If ya don't wanna do it, don't." Carol chewed her bottom lip for a moment before she grabbed for her cell phone and dialed the number in the ad. At Daryl's grin, she shrugged.
"It can't hurt to call."
...
"Thanks for driving up with me," Carol sighed, leaning back in the passenger's seat as her friend Michonne weaved through the bustling Atlanta traffic. "The girl sounded ok on the phone, but Daryl didn't want me to go alone. I think he would have called in to work if you hadn't agreed to go with me." Michonne laughed at that.
"Well, the man's in love with you, so I'm not surprised."
"Stop, Michonne," Carol sighed. "It's not like that."
"You want it to be. So does he."
"Oh my God," Carol groaned, covering her face with her hands. "You are too much."
"God, I'm actually exhausted just thinking about all of the years you've been pining over each other. One of you needs to make a move already! You're practically married as it is."
"Michonne! We flirt. It's our thing. It doesn't mean we want each other."
"Only, you do. You may clam up on me when it comes to all things Daryl Dixon, but I have never seen you look at a guy the way you look at him. He's it for you. I know it. You know it even if you're too stubborn to admit it to me or to yourself."
"Can we change the subject? Please?"
"You know I'm right." At Carol's glare, Michonne shrugged. "Ok, so what do we know so far about this girl?"
"I know she has a son, and he's a year old. Everything else was pretty hush-hush. She seemed impressed with my teaching degree, so that's something."
"Maybe it's someone famous."
"We're in Atlanta."
"So? They film stuff here."
"I don't get the idea that they're famous. Don't famous people use a nanny agency or something?" She shrugged. "I kind of expect to get lured into some meeting with twenty other applicants only to be told it's a sales position going door to door with paint samples or something."
"They still do that?" Michonne asked. Carol laughed and shook her head. "I don't know. This just seems too good to be true. But I'm going to give it a shot. Daryl really wants me to stay in Georgia."
"Well, so do I. But if it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out. I just hope you two own up to your feelings before it's too late."
"Stop with that, already," Carol groaned, running her fingers through her short, dark-auburn hair. "Oh! This is it! Pull in here." Michonne quickly made a left into the parking lot of a thirty-story building called Matthews Investing.
"Damn," Michonne murmured. "She must have money. Want me to walk in with you?"
"No, I'll be ok. Just keep your cell phone handy in case I need to make a quick escape." Michonne gave her a thumbs up when she got out of the car, and Carol took a deep breath, swallowing hard as she smoothed her hands down over the front of her silk blouse. She was sweating already; anxious about what she'd find when she got to her interview. She'd been shocked they'd wanted to meet with her so quickly. She'd just placed the call that morning. But, she figured if this was all on the straight and narrow, they were likely desperate for help, which could be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on how a person looked at it.
She stepped inside to find a woman sitting behind a desk with a headset on, busily pressing buttons and fielding phone calls. Carol glanced down at the paper in her hand. 3025 was the number she'd hastily scribbled down. She glanced at a directory by the elevators, and as she'd suspected, her destination was on the top floor. With a shaky breath, she pushed the elevator button, and when the doors opened, she stepped inside. The cheesy elevator music did nothing to calm the confused butterflies in her stomach, and by the time the elevator came to a smooth halt, she felt like she might pass out.
But, when she stepped out into a carpeted hallway, she was distracted by the dozens of people shuffling around with paperwork and rushing from room to room chasing deadlines. Carol glanced down the hall and back down at the paper in her hands.
"Ma'am, are you lost?" Carol looked up to see a young, eager woman with bright eyes and blonde hair carrying a cup of coffee in one hand and a stack of paper in another. A laminated nametag she wore around her neck on a lanyard read Amy Harrison.
"Um, possibly," Carol chuckled. "I'm here to meet…Nabila. I think that was her name."
"Oh! Yes, of course! Just down this hall. Make a left and another right, and you'll be right there. End of the hall."
"Thank you." Amy nodded and hurried on, and Carol followed her instructions, coming upon an impressive suite with a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. Carol double checked the number again before she knocked.
"Yes?"
"Carol Mason for Nabila?" Carol offered shakily.
"Oh, come on!" the woman called. Carol opened the door to find a cheerful woman with dark eyes and a pleasant smile sitting behind a desk, the glow of the computer screen reflecting off of her reading glasses. "Thank you for coming down on such short notice!"
"I'm not going to lie. I'm pretty desperate. I mean, I'm not living on the street or anything, but I've just graduated college, and I want to jump right into work." Carol cleared her throat. "Not that this isn't the right job for me. I mean, I want to be a teacher someday. I just need something while I'm waiting on…" She talked herself quiet, clearing her throat and cringing at what she figured was a pretty bad first impression. "I mean…" Nabila chuckled and stood up, reaching over the desk to shake Carol's hand.
"Breathe. I'm not the one you need to impress. So it's probably a good thing you worked your nerves out on me." Carol's eyes widened.
"Oh. I'm sorry! I thought you were the one who placed the ad."
"No, I'm just the assistant," she giggled. "But the boss is a pretty great guy. Don't let the big oak door and the fancy décor fool you. He's a pretty chill guy. Just don't let his competitors know that."
"Oh, of course not," Carol chuckled. "So I'm here to meet with…"
"Mr. Matthews."
"Matthews? As in…" She gestured toward the building, and Nabila grinned.
"As in Ezekiel Matthews of Matthews Investing. The one and only."
"Oh. Wow," Carol murmured. "Okay, that's a lot of pressure."
"Don't worry. The boss has been through fifteen interviews in the last week."
"Okay, so there's definitely competition."
"I wouldn't be too concerned. There has only been a handful he's felt were right for the job. So it's not over 'til it's over."
"Ok," Carol murmured. Nabila pointed to another oak door just to the right of a large fireplace. The man's office was almost the size of a small apartment. It had rooms and everything. Carol took a shaky breath and Nabila picked up her phone, pressing a button. "Hey boss. She's here. Ok." She hung up and smiled at Carol. "He's ready for you."
"Thank you, Nabila," Carol smiled, running her damp palms over the front of her shirt again.
"Breathe. You'll do great." Carol nodded then and cleared her throat before taking the few steps to the other door. She took a deep breath and tried to stay positive, reminding herself that it was possible this was too good to be true. Then again, this might be the perfect opportunity to get herself out of debt and keep her comfortable until she could find the job she truly wanted. She didn't like the idea of leaving home. Of leaving Daryl. They'd been pretty much inseparable for as long as she could remember. But, she knew that people grew up, people moved on, and one day, as much as it pained her to think about it, Daryl would probably find someone and want to start a family.
"Door's open," called a voice, startling her out of her thoughts. "Come in." She hesitated briefly before turning the bronze knob and walking into the room.