sᴇʜᴠᴇɴ ᴠᴀʀɢᴀs
Nevada.
With our conversation centering around Migi, memories from three nights ago flooded. Nevada was the first state to cross my mind at the mention of "homes out West."
My only fear was the lifestyle and I didn't mean the price of living.
"How did y'all even meet? You were never around him. Hell, Vargas was too old to be playing with you."
"Your interview? Is going horrible," I told Monica, watching as she sat back in the guest chair with a defeated head shake. Why so persistent?
We were stationed inside my office at Lux Inches, concerning her potential as a stocker or customer assistant. Both Evelyn and I agreed that cashiering was too promising with Mo's given history.
The store's revenue only increases by the year, especially the more our social media platform expands and Houston attracts tourists.
Last year we generated over eight hundred thousand in revenue while operating at twenty percent in our profit margin.
It's tricky to say, but there's a risk that Monica would relapse with direct access to that kind of money. And not only that? My business would suffer from it.
Erin, my interview assistant, smirked at the comment made towards our mother. She hadn't said a word since we stepped inside. Monica was looking for Zuri to be in my company but was met by her youngest child instead.
"I met Migi when I was six years old and you were on drugs. Now since we're on the topic — would you like to explain to your future employer how you became addicted?" Erin laughed, forcing our mother to glare in her direction. By now my sister's presence irritated Mo. Especially after Erin refused to speak.
"It was just a question, Sehven."
Deciding to drop the issue, I continued with a professional stance. "Is seventeen dollars and twenty-five cents okay an hour? The minimum wage is fifteen dollars, but if I can, I try to start higher than the bare minimum."
"That's perfect."
"And are you interested in a full-time position?"
"Yes, I need to make a decent earning," Monica cleared her throat before sitting up. I could tell she was nervous from the way her hands rubbed against the denim material of her jeans. "I also need somewhere to live."
I thought her rehab program assisted with living arrangements.
"That's why she's giving you a job, Monica." Erin argued first.
"I get that, but there's still a chance for me to stay at Granny Jo's house. Do you know how much rent will cost me, for a simple one-bedroom? You have to know. Vargas owns a complex, you can look at how much his crazy ass is charging people."
"Monica, no."
"I've proven myself, Sehven."
Dropping the pen, I rubbed one of my temples. Drained from this entire interview process. The last ten minutes had been a total waste of time. Hell, I was ready to give her the job just to get this over with.
"Give me, your top three weaknesses," I said, forcing us back to the topic at hand, once again.
"Um....well, I've never had a job before," Monica confessed, giving an apologetic shrug. "I also have a long history with drugs, and-"
"And you don't take care of your kids which makes you irresponsible and unfit." Erin responded bluntly, the two of them sizing each other.
Monica's confessing her wrongdoings or weakness as a woman was a trigger due to the fact, that our mother failed to address the elephant in our dynamic.
