All I've Ever Wanted (Rough Draft)

Chapter 3 (Kyle)

I watched my leg wobble causing the unstable metal chair to make an annoying squeaking sound. I pushed my sweaty palm over my jeans taking in the smells of sugary bread, and coffee. It soothed me a little. I didn't remember being this nervous since the guys, outside the offices of Skyline Records when our manager and the greasy execs were drawing up our final contract. Then again, I hadn't held an actual job since I was twenty and working at a pizza place. That's when I wondered if I should have maybe printed a resume, but that would have taken time, and time wasn't my friend.

The sooner I got this job, the sooner I could get to my son. It didn't take walking around the square from the bed and breakfast long, until I saw the red 'help wanted' sign, in a bakery of all places. It was a small, quaint bright colored place. I was already used to the hot ovens, and I didn't even need to be paid, I just needed a place to go most days.

"Ready for ya, son." Said the man that raised a finger and pointed outside the office when I came in. He was a gray-haired guy with thick bushy eyebrows. I took the hint and waited in one of the tattered chairs outside his office.

I straightened my back, smiled and offered my a firm hand-shake, he offered his flour stained wrinkled hand back. He sat down in his big leather chair behind his L-shaped desk the computer screen gleaming in his eyes.

"I'm inquiring about the help wanted sign in the window."

"You have a resume?"

I squinted, "No, sir. I'm sorry," I scratched the nape of my neck, "I could have one later."

"Well, I really could use the extra help." His lip curved, "baseball season is starting and my grandson out there is going to be MIA more."

I nodded.

"Do you have your papers?"

I looked up at him strangely dumb-founded, "Yes."

I pulled out my wallet from my jacket pocket fumbling through it, sliding across his desk. He through on a pair of thick glasses and squinted. Then he started typing into his keyboard on the computer. My stomach lurched as his glance alternated and each time he did a vein in his forehead twitched. He took the small social security card in his hand and started to type one handed. His lips pushed together and then puckered as he set it down, the silver watch on his wrist clanking against the wood of the desk. He ripped off his glasses he looked at me through narrow slits. "You background check says that you're dead son."

My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of my head. I glanced at the screen but only could see a white blur from where I was sitting.

He cocked his head and stood, "Look, I don't know what your story is, and frankly I don't care."

I blew out a breath, wanting to strangle the kid that came in the room with the papers. I rand my fingers through my thick hair, "I'm sorry to waste your time, sir. I'll let myself out."

My thick boots trotted against the tiled floor, back to the front of the building. I'd never seen anyone do a background check on the spot, but then again, I hadn't looked for a job in a long time. All I could do was hope the guy didn't call the police or what ever he did on his computer didn't set off any alarms, that would somehow make it easier to find me.

I grabbed the door when I'd heard a hiss. I glanced around the room and noticed a teenage boy with sandy-blond hair sweeping under one of the black round tables. He looked up at me and whispered. "Psst." And tip-toed up.

I looked at him curiously, "I'm sorry about my gramps. He's kind of a douche."

My eyebrow shot up.