Note: Agh, I know I'm horrible at updating. Horrible. I'm off this week, so I'll be writing a lot more on this, hopefully. In any case, here's the next chapter. Enjoy. All characters belong to Her Interactive.
Deputy curator at Beech Hill Museum, Washington, D.C.
Sonny Joon muttered the words under his breath, testing out the sound and feel of them. He added them to his already sizable list of occupations, a list which ranged across ten states and two continents. This would be his twenty-fifth job in as many months.
He smiled as he strolled out of the museum, hands in his pockets. He felt like interviews were old hat now. No one really cared about experience or skills. All they wanted was charm, a certain spark that they could latch onto. It was easy to imbue himself with that charm—really, it just took a few well-placed smiles, some wit, and some yessirs and yes'ms peppered in. They already wanted to believe that he was the answer to their prayers, so why not let them believe it as long as possible?
Actually working was the difficult part. As little effort as he put into his interviews, he couldn't even manage to keep that up for more than a day or two on the job. False enthusiasm got boring very quickly. He'd have to find some way to make this gig last longer, though, even if it meant actually buckling down and doing something. Much as he loved the idea of maintaining his job-a-month streak, it just wasn't the most profitable situation.
Of course, he didn't really mind the money problem. But he felt obligated to Charlie.
As soon as he got to the sidewalk, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his roommate's number. "Charlie!" he said as soon as he heard the receiver lift. "Meet me at Starbucks, like, now, okay?" Charlie mumbled an assent and hung up. Sonny smiled to himself and hurried to their favorite (well, only) meeting place, a little off-kilter table on the sidewalk outside of a corner Starbucks.
He only had to wait a few moments (after he'd gotten his coffee, of course), to see Charlie. Charlie Murphy was about a year older than Sonny; he had messy brown hair that curled over his forehead and sleepy eyes that girls usually went nuts over. Sonny had met him at NYU during his junior year—Sonny had been a student, Charlie had been a janitor. The story of exactly how they'd met was long, complicated, and involved lots of tears and vomiting, but in short, even though they were polar opposites, they'd just sort of clicked. Charlie, though he had absolutely zero self-confidence, was always working; when Sonny had met him, he'd just come off an intense renovation project in San Francisco. Charlie had a kind of quiet energy that made him well-suited for long, tedious jobs like that. Sometimes, Sonny would walk into their apartment and find Charlie working on some carpentry thing or other, and then he'd find out that Charlie had been working on one edge of a table all day. Just watching him made Sonny anxious—sitting still was definitely not an option for him. He left the patience to Charlie.
Charlie swung himself into one of the metal chairs outside Starbucks, giving Sonny a sleepy nod.
"Hey," Sonny said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Just wanted you to know I got the job."
"Which one?"
"Mayan museum," he said. "I start tomorrow."
"Mm," Charlie said noncommittally. Charlie was noncommittal about most things. With him, the emotion only came out in the tone of his sighs. Sonny thought he detected a small hint of approval today. "Did you ask about the aliens?" Charlie added.
Sonny grimaced. "Nah. Not yet. I figured I'd build up to that." Truthfully, it had taken all his energy not to bring it up during the interview.
Charlie chuckled once. "You're wasting time."
"My boss is already in love with me, okay? No sense in pushing it."
"Isn't that kind of your thing? Pushing it?"
"Up yours," Sonny said without missing a beat. "Look, I just thought I'd let you know. Don't people usually get excited about this kind of thing?"
"Hoorah," Charlie deadpanned.
"I can help pay the bills now."
"You're the man."
Sonny rolled his eyes and began pouring packet after packet of sugar in his cup.
"You're so annoying in the morning," he muttered.
"Well, you've got all the other times covered, so I gotta pick up the slack."
"Jesus," Sonny whispered. "That attitude's not gonna get you anywhere. I was going to tell you what I'd rate the new boss, but it sounds like you aren't in the mood to appreciate it."
Charlie sat up straighter in his seat. Sonny smiled. He knew he had him. Charlie'd never been able to resist the rating game.
"Okay," Charlie finally said. "Sorry. What was she?"
"Definitely a Rachel," Sonny pronounced. He and Charlie had made a game of ranking their ex-girlfriends by attractiveness. Rachel had been Charlie's girl for about two months before she'd broken it off, presumably to start her acting career, although Sonny had seen her a couple of weeks later working a bar… and its occupants. He'd never had the heart to tell Charlie, who still treasured her autograph for when she made it big and came back to him.
Charlie groaned. "Man, there's no way. Rachel is the only Rachel."
"Well, imagine Rachel in ten, fifteen years. And you've got Joanna."
"God. When can I come visit you?"
"You are not allowed to seduce my boss. It's unprofessional. Just saying. Besides, she's kind of a… stickler." Sonny slipped into a falsetto. "'We don't have ROOM for creativity here, Sonny, but if you think you can handle that…'" He groaned. "Condescending, much?"
"Oh, now I remember why I wasn't excited about you getting a job," Charlie said sarcastically. "You have zero respect for authority. You'll leave after two weeks with that attitude."
"Oh, please. I got this. Besides, this time will be different… I think."
"Oh?" Charlie didn't seem very impressed.
"Yeah. I mean, this gig is actually relevant to my interests. I gotta research the Maya somewhere. This place is ideal."
"And… how long have you been working on this paper?" Charlie pressed.
Sonny glared at him. "Bitch, don't mess with me."
Sonny had graduated from NYU a year ago, a full semester earlier than he'd initially planned. Now he was working on his research doctorate, a tour de force which would, undoubtedly, propel him to the most respected circles of the scientific and anthropological communities. Once it was finished, of course.
Charlie shrugged. "Okay. But I doubt they're gonna have any alien abduction exhibits in a real Mayan museum."
Sonny glowered into his cup, which was now mostly empty. "For now," he muttered darkly.
"God, don't do that," Charlie said nervously. "Your voice is so creepy sometimes."
Sonny smirked and leaned on his elbows on the table, making it shake wildly. "Is it?" he whispered, making his voice go low.
"Cut that out," Charlie hissed. "Look, man, I've had enough of ghosts and haunts. Just. Don't."
Sonny laughed and leaned back in his chair. "Oh, right. The ghost in San Francisco. Right."
"Look, I put up with your aliens. And this is different, 'cause it was real."
"I believe you," Sonny said, raising his eyebrows. He wasn't in the mood to go through this conversation again.
They sat in silence for a few seconds before Charlie abruptly put his hand on the table. "So… is this all you had to tell me?"
"Yup." Sonny nodded.
"Well, thank you," Charlie said, standing up. At first, Sonny thought he was being sarcastic, but Charlie looked sincere. "I mean, for trying. Anything will help."
Charlie's voice sounded a little tight, the way it always did when he had to talk about money. Sonny got the impression that Charlie had always had trouble keeping a roof over his head. But pitiful conversations like this always made Sonny uncomfortable, so he simply shrugged.
"Yeah, don't mention it," he said, downing the last of his coffee. "I'm really gonna try to keep this one. Really."
Charlie smiled wistfully. "I hope so," he said. "Just keep your skinny ass out of trouble."
Sonny grinned. "Sounds like a challenge."