“How Would You Like a Job?”

He was walking to work. He was walking because his car had died the day before, and his girlfriend was unable to drive him, on account of her having left him the day before that. It was an overcast morning, the sky the milky color of dishwater, like his mood. His head was bowed and his shoulders hunched; he was looking down as he trudged to work. If he hadn’t been he might not have noticed the small black notebook when he stepped on it. He bent down and picked it up. The front cover, aside from the print left by his shoe, was blank, as was the back. He opened it. Inside, the pages were almost entirely blank except for one right in the middle, which had a strange set of numbers scribbled on it. He went to toss the thing away when he heard his ex-girlfriend’s voice in his head, asking indignantly, “You’re just going to litter, then?” He slipped it into his pocket until he could find a trash can, and promptly forgot about it.

After a grueling shift of washing half eaten spaghetti off of dishes and getting splashed with pieces of chewed up food, he was in the break room putting on his jacket with relief to go home. Out of habit he reached into his pocket for his car keys, which he hadn’t brought, and found the strange notebook instead. Curious, he opened it again, and turned to the page with the numbers.

“What are those? Coordinates?” A voice suddenly spoke up behind him. It was the line cook, Chris, who never seemed to stop talking, which was why Eric knew that he had a brother in jail whose bond was 20,000 dollars.

“What?” he said stupidly.

“Those numbers, they look like coordinates,” Chris said. “Isn't that your book?”

Eric shook his head. “I just found it.”

“Well, those numbers look like latitude. And those are the longitude.”

Interested, Eric asked, “How would you find out where they lead to?”

Chris answered, “There’s an app you can use. See?” He pulled out his phone and tapped an icon. “Read those numbers to me.” Chris’ phone screen displayed a map of North America, and then zoomed in to Illinois, and then again, to Ottawa. “Looks like it’s a place not far from here. Well, see you tomorrow!” With that Chris abruptly left, but Eric hesitated. After all, it wasn’t as if he had his girlfriend at home waiting for him. When he left he headed east, away from home, following the directions of a recently downloaded application.

He was staring at the orange door of a storage unit. The sun had fallen on his walk over, and the last of its molten glow had slid behind the horizon. The door had a padlock on it that looked sturdy. He pulled out the notebook, using his phone as a flashlight. There! After the long string of coordinates someone had written three numbers. He bent down and tried them on the lock. It opened with a satisfying “plink!” He removed the lock and lifted the garage door. When he looked inside he was confronted by a thick blackness. He shined his phone’s flashlight in. At first it seemed completely empty, but then his light landed on a single, silver suitcase lying in the middle of the otherwise bare floor. Minutes later he was walking with a brisk pace down the sidewalk, the suitcase swinging from his left hand.

He was home, with the suitcase lying open on the coffee table that his ex-girlfriend had picked out. He had his head in his hands, eyes wide and staring at stacks of hundred dollar bills, crisp as starched shirts. He had done the math twice: the suitcase held 20,000 dollars. To think: he had been about to throw that notebook away. 20,000 dollars! He thought about his car that needed a new transmission. He thought about all the times his girlfriend had complained that he wasn’t doing enough with his life. He put the suitcase under his bed and then slept like a man whose problems had all been solved.

The next day, after a trip to the auto shop, he went to the jewelry store. When he emerged he wore a broad, confident grin. Then he drove his newly functioning car to his girlfriend’s parents’ house, where she was staying. She answered the door at his knock, looking shocked to see him.

“Eric? What are you doing here?”

Instead of answering, he knelt down, and pulled out the ring he had purchased that morning.

“I know you’re frustrated with me. You think I’m going nowhere. But all that is going to change. I want to support you, Meg. Will you marry me?” He waited expectantly.

“Get up!” Meg hissed. Which wasn’t the answer he wanted. Reluctantly he stood up. She pulled him inside. “You really think proposing is the way to fix the problems between us?” she started before the door had closed behind him, “and how on earth did you afford a ring like that?” She was looking at him with an eyebrow raised. He simply pulled out one of the stacks of hundreds that he had stashed in his jacket. Her eyes widened. “Where did you get that?”

“There’s more, Meg! That's what I'm trying to tell you, this money is going to change things for me! I feel like I could do anything! But I need you with me. Please come back.”

She was frowning. “Where did that money come from?” she asked again. So he told her everything, starting with the notebook. When he was finished she stayed quiet for a minute. Then she said, “You have to take it back.”

He couldn't believe it. “Take it back?!”

“Yes.” She answered calmly. “You don’t know who that money belongs to. You stole it.”

“I didn’t steal it! I found a notebook on the sidewalk!”

“And then you opened a garage that wasn’t yours. Did you even check for security cameras? You could have been seen. You could be in danger. Normal people don’t keep twenty thousand dollars cash in a storage facility!” That made him think. He hadn’t even considered security cameras. Was she right? Just then they both jumped at a buzzing sound. It was a flip phone vibrating on the table.

“Did you get a new phone?” he asked her.

“No. Isn’t that yours?”

“I just got here, how could it be mine?” They both looked at the phone in alarm. It stopped buzzing, and then started up again. He stepped over and picked it up. “Hello?”

“Hello.” A robotic raspy voice, like a throat-cancer victim. The tone was dripping with controlled anger. “You have something of mine. Twenty thousand somethings to be exact.” His heart dropped out of his chest. He raised his eyes to Meg. The voice continued. “I don’t really blame you. I know that it was one of my men who carelessly dropped that notebook, and I am feeling… magnanimous. Therefore I am giving you until seven p.m. today to return the full twenty thousand to the place where you found it, no harm done. If at seven-oh-one the money isn't there... well, we know where your girlfriend lives. She is very wise, I think, to refuse your proposal. You’re going to have to return that ring, I am afraid.” The phone clicked. He stood frozen in place. Meg looked as white as a corpse.

“Did you hear all that?”

She nodded. “Eric, what have you done?”

“It’s gonna be okay.”

“Eric, you idiot!”

“I am. But it's going to be fine. I'm going to give all the money back and you will be fine.”

“Who was that?”

“I don’t know. Someone dangerous. You were right.”

“They put that phone in here!”

“I know. There’s no point in trying to run. I’m going to return the ring and get the rest of the money. I’ll have it back within the hour. They should leave us alone after they get their money back.” Their eyes met. They were both wondering the same thing: would these people keep their word? Before she could object he leaned in and kissed her on the forehead. “Be safe.” Then he ran out.

The jewelry store took the ring back right away. They didn't even seem surprised. The auto shop was being difficult, so he sold them the car. From there he sprinted home.

He threw open the door and ran to the bedroom. He hurled himself onto the floor by the bed and reached for the suitcase. His hand met only air. He swept his arm back and forth, trying to fight the alarm rising in his chest. Nothing. He ducked his head under and looked. It wasn't there. How could it not be there? He was choking on panic. No one else knew about the money! No one- except- then he remembered Chris, the line cook. Chris, who’s brother needed 20,000 dollars to make bail. Chris, who had put the coordinates into his own phone first. He could have gotten there before Eric. Then he must have followed him home and seen the money. He could have taken it when Eric left that morning. He would be long gone by now, and Eric had no idea how to find him, that was if he hadn’t already used the money to post bail. What on earth was he going to do?

At 6:55 Eric was standing outside the garage where he found the suitcase. He was calm. He was looking at the clouds, at their clean whiteness, how they stood out against the blue. He had never noticed how beautiful their shapes were. He didn’t look away, even when he heard a car pull up. He only lowered his gaze when a voice spoke to him.

“Where’s the money?” A giant of a man was speaking, his arms the size of trash cans, his torso as thick and round as a car. In the vehicle behind him through tinted windows Eric could see a figure in the back seat.

“I don’t have it. I only have this.” He held out a manila envelope which contained what he got back for the ring and car. “The rest was stolen from me.” The big man took the envelope and looked at the figure in the backseat. The figure made a sign, and the big man turned back to Eric.

“Are you going to tell us who robbed you?” he asked.

Eric had thought about it. He simply said, “No.”

The big man’s mouth twitched. “So what are you doing here, then?”

Eric took a deep breath. “I am very sorry I took your money. I came to ask that you leave Meg alone. Do whatever you want with me. But please, she had nothing to do with it. Please leave her alone.” The big man didn’t answer, but just then they heard the hum of a window rolling down. An extremely wrinkled face looked out from behind dark sunglasses. The man had a stoma on his throat, maybe from throat cancer, and when he spoke he held up a black microphone-looking device to his throat. The raspy robot voice from the phone rang out.

It said, “You came here to ask that I kill you instead of your girlfriend?”

“Yes,” Eric answered.

“And this is the same girl that refused your proposal in front of the house?”

“Yes.”

“And she is staying there at her parents house, why? Because she left you?”

“Yes.” The wrinkled man was looking at Eric curiously

“And you’re still willing to die for her?

Eric shrugged, “Of course.”

The wrinkled man slowly began to nod his head.

“I’ll be honest, kid. I’m not in a very homicidal mood today. And I think I like you. I don’t think I will kill you. How would you like a job?”

The End.