Jane's Harmony (Jane's Melody #2) (8 page)

“Just a few more minutes.”

“I thought you told me you were in it to win it.”

“I am, man. But I need a full eight hours to perform.”

“Well, that’s too bad, then,” Caleb said. “Because if you’re late they’ll probably send you home, and I heard in the hall that Jordyn’s here.”

“Jordyn-with-a-
y
?”

“I didn’t ask them how she spelled it, but I’m guessing so.”

There was an explosion of bedding as the kid leaped up and bolted for the bathroom, calling back over his shoulder and asking, “How much time do I have?”

“Maybe ten minutes.”

“Shit. It takes me that long just to put my eyeliner on.”

Caleb shook his head and laughed. He wasn’t quite sure what he had gotten himself into, or even where it would lead, but he was committed to making the most of it while it lasted.

Chapter 7

J
ane had gotten to know the streets of downtown Austin better than she had ever wanted to. And when she ran out of places to hand out résumés, she turned instead to scouring the jobs section of the daily classifieds. There wasn’t much there either, but at least she could kill a couple of hours at the coffee shop, poring over the listings with her highlighter. And she was doing just this when her phone rang.

“Hello, Jane McKinney speaking.”

A robotic voice replied, “You have been selected . . .”

Jane assumed it was another annoying political survey or an automated telemarketer pitch, and she pulled the phone away from her ear and was about to end the call when she heard the words
city of Austin
.

She put the phone up to her ear again.

“Thank you for your recent application. You have been selected to take a civil service exam. You can take the exam at your earliest convenience between the hours of nine a.m. and two p.m. at any of the following city locations . . .”

Jane got out her pen and took down the addresses. She knew it was silly to get her hopes up, but having an actual next step to take was a huge relief.

It was so difficult to tell the blocks of brick and stucco buildings apart that Jane passed by twice before she spotted the small monument sign:

CITY OF AUSTIN

DEPARTMENT OF HUMAN RESOURCES

The door closed behind her, sealing out the sunshine and the birds, and it was quiet inside. Too quiet. Quiet in that strange and timeless way that only libraries and government buildings can sometimes be. There was an old letter-board directory on the wall that listed the civil service examination room on floor three. Jane rode the old elevator up, listening to the soft hum of the motors and the squeak of the cables over their pulleys.

When she walked into the testing room, a woman sitting at an old metal desk looked up at her and asked in a voice so low it was nearly a whisper, “May I help you?”

“I’m here for the civil service exam.”

“Your ID, please,” the woman said.

Jane opened her wallet and handed the woman her license.

“How long have you been in Texas?” the woman asked, checking her sheet.

“Just a few months now.”

“You do know you’re applying for a position as a parking enforcement officer, I assume. The job requires knowledge of Austin’s streets and traffic laws.”

“I’ve received two dozen parking tickets driving around looking for work,” Jane said, smiling. “Does that qualify me?”

The look on the woman’s face when she handed Jane back her license made it clear that she was not amused.

“You’ll need to go to the DPS office and get a Texas license. Here’s the civil service exam. I’m assuming you studied. There are number-two pencils and a sharpener on the table over there. Pick any desk and take as long as you’d like, as long as you’re done by two. But please don’t leave the room without check
ing in here first. Even for the restroom. And no cell phones or computers. Good luck.”

There were two other people already taking the test on either end of the room, and Jane took an empty desk an equal distance between them so as not to appear rude. Then she filled in her name and birth date, and sat looking at the first question, wondering what on earth it had to do with civil service.

Q. If you had three watermelons in one hand and two bananas and a coconut in the other hand, what would you have?

Jane giggled quietly as she wrote,
You’d have very large hands.

Be serious now, she told herself, erasing the answer.

She flipped ahead to see how many pages were in the test. Then she looked up at the wall clock—tick-tick-ticking away the seconds, one at a time. She sighed. She had a feeling this was going to be a long morning.

The Department of Public Safety was packed wall to wall with unhappy patrons, and none of them appeared at all shy about letting it be known. Jane took a number ticket and found a seat. A woman with two crying children, bouncing one on each knee, looked at Jane and rolled her eyes.

“You’d think they’d have more people working.”

“How long have you been waiting?” Jane asked.

“Maybe an hour,” she said. “But an hour with these two seems like forever.”

Jane sat and waited and watched the clock, then waited some more. The woman next to Jane was eventually replaced by a man wearing sixteen layers of clothing, despite the heat. Fortunately, he was too busy conversing with himself, as he searched his countless pockets for something, to engage Jane. She heard drums on the street, and she looked past the man and out the
window. Outside, a noisy group of protesters marched by with shotguns and AR-15s draped over their shoulders, waving enormous flags that read:
DON’T TREAD ON TEXAS.

When her number was finally called, Jane approached the counter and handed across her Washington driver’s license and the form she had filled out while waiting. The clerk asked her a series of questions and then waved her over to an eye test machine. Jane placed her face to the machine and read off the rows of letters as best as she could. She finished and looked up.

The clerk handed her back her Washington license.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said, “you failed the eye test.”

“What do you mean, I failed?”

“I mean you need glasses.”

“That’s not possible.”

He shrugged and hit the button to call the next number.

“Let me try it again,” Jane pleaded. “Please.”

He shook his head firmly.

“Sorry, ma’am, no license for you today. Next!”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Jane mumbled, tucking her license away in her purse. “No license for me today, huh? Who do you think you are? The soup Nazi of driver’s licenses?”

She found Mr. Zigler in the warehouse behind the wheel of a forklift. He was racing one of his employees around an obstacle course made of beer cases. He pulled over and braked, then smiled down on her from the forklift’s seat.

“Hi there, Jane. How’s our boy?”

“He’s doing great. They’ve got him putting in longer days than even you did, so I don’t get to talk to him much. Plus, I can’t bring him lunch there, of course.”

He switched off the idling forklift and jumped down.

“Well, you know I’d never turn down lunch if you’d like to keep up the practice,” he said, winking. “I’m guessing you came by for Caleb’s check since he asked me to make it out to you.”

“Yes, sir. I’m going to cash it and go shopping.”

He led Jane to his office and went around his desk, then opened a drawer and handed her an envelope. Then he cocked his head and looked at her funny.

“Is there something different about you?”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked.

“Did you change your hair or something?”

“Oh God,” Jane said, removing her glasses. “I’m supposed to wear these when I drive, but I keep forgetting to take them off. It’s only been a couple of days.”

“Well, they look good.”

“You think so? I haven’t told Caleb yet.”

“He’s the one who ought to be worried.”

“Caleb should be worried? How so?”

“What if you’ve been seeing him blurry all this time? Now maybe you put your glasses on, see him for the toad he is, and realize you’re really in love with me.”

Jane made a show of putting her glasses back on and looking him over. “You are really handsome,” she said, taking them off again. “But I’m going to stand by my man, Mr. Zigler. Toad or no toad.”

He grinned. “He’s lucky to have you.”

They had said good-bye and Jane had turned to go when Mr. Zigler called her name. She stopped and looked back.

“You used to sell insurance, didn’t you?” he asked.

She nodded. “Twenty years.”

Mr. Zigler waved his hand to take in the office. “I could sure use help in the sales department around here if the job market isn’t looking too good out there.”

Jane knew his offer was as much out of kindness as it was out of genuine need for a salesperson, but that alone wouldn’t have made her say no. She’d just had too much pain in her life caused by booze to be out peddling it to bars for a living. It was a fine job for someone, just not her.

“I appreciate your offer, Mr. Zigler. I really do. But I have an actual job interview tomorrow with the city of Austin.”

“Congratulations,” he said, smiling at the news. “If they have any sense at all, they’ll make you mayor.”

“If they do,” she replied, “my first order of business will be naming a street after you. We’ll call it Harry Zigler Avenue.”

His smile was so proud and so sincere, he looked to Jane to be fifteen instead of fifty-five.

“You tell that man of yours we’re all pulling for him here. Shit. The guys are already running around saying they knew him when. And don’t forget to mention I’m expecting to hear my name in his acceptance speech when he wins. You tell him.”

Jane sat in the Austin city hall lobby, waiting.

She’d been waiting a lot lately, but then so had everyone else, it seemed. And who was she to expect special treatment? She was lucky to even be considered for the position. She took out her phone and checked her messages. Nothing from Caleb since his text early this morning. She read it again.

Hi, babe! They put us on teams yesterday. Guess who my coach is? That lady who gave me a thumbs-down. Ha-ha! As the kids here say, FML! Apparently it means Fuck My Life. I should be home soon.

She reread her reply to him, questioning it now.

The bed’s lonely without you, but don’t hurry home for me. She’ll fall in love with you just like everyone does. Just be yourself and have fun.

Jane had to admit that she had felt a twinge of excitement at the proposition of his leaving the show early, but she had tried to mask it in her text. She was torn between wanting him to succeed and wanting him home. She was only human, after all. She kept hearing Grace’s voice saying,
You
’re not responsible for your thoughts, honey. You’re only responsible for what you do with your thoughts, which ones you choose to ignore and which ones you choose to act on.
Of all the crazy voices inside her head, it was always Grace’s she knew she could trust.

“Mrs. McKinney.”