Sounds Great

Devlin’s [POV]

“What did you say your job was again?” I asked.

Simon Coney turned out to be a tall, lanky guy with bright red hair, freckles that covered most of his face, and large ears that stuck out noticeably. He looked like a cartoon character.

“I work in Sales,” Simon replied. “For this big pharmaceutical company.”

“Huh,” I said, trying to suppress a smile. “I used to be a salesman too.”

“Yeah?” Simon said, looking interested. “What did you sell?”

“Pot,” I replied.

Simon looked at me for a second and then burst out laughing. “Good one,” he nodded, obviously believing I had just been joking. I let him think that; I wasn’t in the mood to get into my sordid story just yet.

He was the third person who had come to see me regarding my apartment and he was by far the best. The first two had been a complete write-off and I had rejected them on the spot. I decided to put Simon on the shortlist. If someone less annoying showed up in the next two weeks, he was out, and if not, he was in.

“So… how do you feel about parties?” I asked.

“Parties?”

“I have people over often,” I said. “I wanted to know if you’d be ok with that.”

“Oh,” Simon said, and I saw reservation creep into his eyes. “The thing is… I’m taking a few courses as well… just part-time, but I need to study, so I kind of need quiet as much as possible.”

“There’s a library close by.”

“I like being in my own space when I study.”

I knew right then and there that it would never work. Simon seemed to understand that too because he thanked me and left right after. Sighing, I went to my room and rummaged through my drawers for something presentable to wear to the second interview I had lined up in two days. I had community service to report to in the evening, so I hoped the interview wouldn’t run too long.

I found a white shirt, and then I paired it with dark pants. I dressed quickly and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked very presentable… but I also looked like every other working schmuck out there, and I hated that. There was no sense of creativity or individuality in my appearance, and I felt like a sellout, as I got ready to leave for the interview.

I was interviewing at a marketing firm downtown. They were a small company but they were rising within the ranks, and I wanted to get my foot in the door before they grew so large that they would raise their standards. I was already worried that it was too late. I was sent to the third floor of the building, and after speaking to the receptionist, I was told to take a seat with the other candidates.

Two other men were sitting in the waiting room. Both were dressed just like me, and that made me feel even worse. Was this what the corporate life would do to you? It was the very reason I had chosen the arts. I wanted to celebrate differences; I wanted to create images of all those things… people and moments that were unique.

I had to wait an hour, and I kept checking my watch nervously. I could only afford to wait another fifteen minutes. If the interview itself took longer than half an hour, then I would be late to the station. I would either have to risk being late for my community service or I would have to cut the interview short. Screw it, I thought. I would just get late to the damn fire station, and the boys would just have to deal with it.

None of them had really warmed to me, but after Seth had spoken to them at least they had stopped the outward hazing. They just barked orders at me and then criticized me afterward whether I did it right or not. I didn’t care… their opinions didn’t matter to me. What did matter to me had nothing to do with any of them.

My thoughts had been preoccupied of late by Zoey, the beautiful green-eyed girl who had walked into my life with a box of cupcakes. I had hoped to hear from her in the next few days, but I had been sorely mistaken. She had disappeared just as suddenly as she had appeared and I found myself wondering if I had just misread all the signals. Maybe she wasn’t as into me as I had initially thought.

I decided that it was for the best. I had a lot going on right now, and I didn’t need the added complications. Even as I thought it, I knew I was just being sour about it. If she appeared tomorrow and asked me out, I certainly wouldn’t turn her down.

Finally, I was called in for the interview. The room I walked into was smaller than I had expected and the woman sitting behind the desk was looking at me with the kind of judgmental gaze I had prepared myself for.

“Mr. Danvers… am I right?”

“That’s right,” I nodded. “You can call me Devlin.”

“Great,” she nodded. “Take a seat and let’s get started.”

“Ok.”

“I read your resume,” she said, glancing at the paper in front of her.

“OK?”

“It’s painfully limited,” she said. “Do you have any marketing experience at all?”

“Well, no,” I admitted. “But I’m a fast learner… and I’m creative and—”

“That’s right,” she said, looking down at the paper again. “It says here you have an arts degree.”

“I do.”

“Forgive me, but that sounds like a rather odd choice.”

I cocked my head to the side; already irritated by her judgmental tone and the condescending way she had said arts degree. “Why is it an odd choice?”

“An arts degree… well, it’s pretty basic isn’t it?”

“Excuse me?”

“Every other person these days has an arts degree,” she continued. “It doesn’t prove you’re qualified to do this job.”

I gritted my teeth, but I managed to keep my tone polite. “I happen to think that creativity and free thought are very useful… that’s what an art degree gives you.”

“Free thought?”

“Yes.”

She smiled at me, and I saw her prejudice written all over her face. Apparently, my degree wasn’t good enough for her, and that meant I wasn’t either. I stood up abruptly, deciding that I didn’t need this job that badly. It was nothing more than pride, but my pride was all I had at the moment.

“Thank you for your time,” I said.

She looked at me in stunned silence. It was only as I was walking towards the door that she spoke. “The interview is not over.”

“I disagree,” I said, with a polite smile. Then I turned and walked out of her office.

I stepped out of the building only to find myself craving a joint. What I would give right now for a little pot. I had told the judge I didn’t use it… but what else was I expected to say to a judge? I didn’t smoke up often though; I never had. It was just a stress reliever that I turned to every now and then. Of course, my preference was a good night out or a party in with good booze and music. Since I didn’t have that option right now, a joint was what I was after.

I ended up calling Zack as I made my way to the station. Zack and I had met in college during our first year. We had attended the same party, and we had hit it off. We had actually ended up living together on campus for our last two years and we’d had a blast partying it up in style. I missed those days… there was a certain wild freedom that I had experienced since joining the real world.

“Hi, man,” I said.

“Dev!” Zack said. “How’s it going? We’ve barely hung out lately.”

“That’s because I have community service to deal with, remember?”

“Fuck yeah,” Zack nodded. “That must be a bitch.”

> “You have no idea,” I sighed. “I was actually calling to ask if you’re up for joining me for a burger tonight?”

“Sounds great,” Zack said enthusiastically. “I’m in.”

“Excellent,” I nodded. “Let’s meet at Conrad’s Burgher joint at like eight?”

“Perfect, see you then,” Zack replied before he hung up.

I headed to the station and found Seth in the maintenance bay. I signed in with him and then he handed me a list of things he wanted me to get done. I was walking away, about to start on the thankless tasks when he called out to me.

“Yeah?” I said, turning around.

“How are things going with you?” Seth asked. “Have the other guys been giving you a hard time?”

I don’t know what he expected me to say… it wasn’t like I was going to tattle on them like some scared teenager. “They leave me alone,” I said shortly.

“They’re not all bad, you know,” Seth said, trying to defend them. “They just—”

“Don’t like potheads.”

“If that were true then no one would associate with me,” Seth pointed out. “They’re just having a little fun on your behalf. It’s not like they really hate you.”

I shrugged. “It would make no difference to me if they did. I’m not here to make friends.”

I headed towards the parked fire trucks and started cleaning out their insides. The whole time I kept thinking about Zoey and all the possible reasons she might not have come back here to take me up on the suggestion I had made. I was so sure she’d come back soon, and now I was left second-guessing myself.

The cupcakes she had brought went like hotcakes when I took them to the lounge room where all the firefighters relaxed and ate and just basically shot the breeze. A few of the other men seemed to know Zoey, which told me she had dropped in here at least a few times before. I had to hope that maybe she would drop by again and this time I could do a better job of impressing.