12Like a labyrinth from the Greek myths, the building twisted in on itself. Creature-like arcade machines covered in tarps slumbered against every wall. The dark, caged figure of the Madame Ouga machine stood in the corner, catching the light from the industrial bulbs above. An artificial, oily scent leaked from the garish carpeting spread across the rooms.
The owner of the hell-hole himself walked backward to the center of the room and held his arms wide. "Welcome to Blackgaard's Castle." His eyes glittered underneath the shadows cast across his angular face.
From the side of the room, Richard rubbed his hands together. "Whad'ya think?"
Connie opened her mouth and shook her head. She took a few steps in from the door. "It's… uh…"
"Great, isn't it?" Richard finished, then walked a circle around his boss. "Doc's got the entire place figured out," he listed on his fingers, "the games, the food, the drinks, and how the kids'll react to it all."
Blackgaard held out a hand to stop Richard from pacing. "A modest achievement. The real challenge is to find good help so we can open." He looked meaningfully at Connie.
She looked away from his black eyes and at the unlit neon signs on the walls. "I… it's hard to decide on the spot."
Blackgaard hummed and gestured to a hallway. "Why don't we go look at some other rooms here? The break room, for instance-"
"I set it up myself," Richard interrupted, eagerly gesturing for Connie to follow. "It's got a T.V. and a microwave, and a really nice couch!"
He bounced down the shoddy, box-filled hallway to a door on the side and threw it open. "Tah-dah!"
Connie peered in from the door. "Nice." The orange couch didn't complement the green carpet at all, but the microwave on the floor next to the television didn't seem out-of-place.
She shuddered to think of what Richard's apartment looked like.
Blackgaard passed the break room altogether and opened an unmarked door at the end of the hall. "This is my office." He held the door open.
She walked in, catching a gentle vanilla whiff of cologne and pomade as she passed him.
The immaculate, polished office desk was the centerpiece of the room, complementing the wood finish on the walls and floor. A thin bookshelf lined the wall to the left, while a Dutch flag graced the wall to the right.
Richard followed her in and then Blackgaard shut the door.
Connie swallowed.
They had placed a single bowl of mints on the corner of the desk. Richard snagged one and then plopped into the thick office chair and tore into the wrapper. "You can have one. They're free."
She sat in the smaller chair across the desk and tried to control her heart rate.
Blackgaard coolly leaned against the bookshelf. "Now that you've seen my project, Connie, I'd like to ask for your thoughts on it."
"It's… interesting."
He didn't smile, but his tone became lighter. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"How about working here, Connie?" Richard smiled.
Blackgaard's eyes didn't leave Connie. "Don't be so rash, Richard." He seemed to study her, to see right through her. "I'd say Miss Kendall has some decisions to make before she can even begin to think about our offer."
She avoided his gaze. "Decisions?" She squeaked and stupidly blinked, trying to get her irrational nerves under control.
"Of course. Choose between us and John Whittaker."
"He fired me from Whit's End," she snapped. She stared at Blackgaard. "You know he fired me."
He avoided her eyes as he picked a book from the bookshelf. "Then why is it so hard to choose?"
Because she'd never truly believed the fact that John Avery Whittaker- the strongest, kindest, most fatherly man she'd ever met- had played favorites and hired Eugene over her.
She was angry with him for firing her. For refusing to offer her job back, even when she'd gone into the building and make awkward hints about it.
"That chapter in your life is over." Blackgaard thumbed through The Last Battle. "It's time to start anew."
Richard nodded sagely, still sucking on the peppermint. "Denial is pointless."
"I'm not in denial."
Blackgaard slapped the book shut. "No, no, of course not." He seemed to notice Richard for the first time with slight irritation. "Do I hear Sasha scratching at the door?"
Richard shrugged. "I hear nothing."
"We must get that checked. Let Sasha out, thank you."
The finality in his tone left no room for argument.
Richard grumbled and heaved himself from the chair. He opened the door and began to call, "Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!"
Blackgaard shut and locked the door behind him.
Connie stood, alarmed. "You didn't have to send him out."
"He has a mouth that runs faster than his brain," Blackgaard grumbled. He crossed the office to his chair, straightened it, and sat.
Connie sat again. She leaned a little into the chair.
Blackgaard flicked Richard's mint wrapper off the desk. "What do you know about him?"
"Not much…" she hesitated. "He used to work with Eugene at the college before they had a falling out. That's all I know."
He nodded slowly. "They fired Richard for a grade-changing scheme in which he manipulated your friend and a young man named Nicholas Adamsworth. They illegally hacked into the college computers under duress."
Connie swallowed.
Blackgaard tilted his head. "Was I wrong to hire him, Miss Kendall?"
"Well, you're definitely taking a risk."
"Indeed." He steepled his fingers. "I believe in second chances. Do you think anyone would hire Richard after what he's done?" He chuckled. "Very unlikely. As is the same with you. Whittaker fired you because you're a rule-breaker, and frankly, a liability."
She folded her arms. "Now wait a minute-"
"Tell me he doesn't think so."
She remembered the disappointment in Whit's blue eyes- and his confusion when she came back earlier that day. He seemed distant, even aloof.
"I'm offering you the position," Blackgaard continued, "because I believe in second chances. I think we can say less of your former employer." He stuck out his hand to shake. "The choice is yours."
She stared at Blackgaard's hand. His pinky finger had a silver university ring.
His words from earlier buzzed in her head. That chapter in your life is over.
Maybe he was right.
She gripped his hand and shook- then watched him smile for the first time as he clasped her hand in both of his.
