11-02-2015, 10:46 PM
All further departmental funds weren’t going to be disbursed until next semester, and Jenn was staring down the wrong half of the year. There was a point that every kid on financial knew; it was the time of year when your overpayment funds ran out and you still had six weeks left the get the job done. It’st he moment when you realize that your crappy part time job to pick up the slack wasn’t doing the best job to pick up the slack and you have a few options: get more hours tacked on to your work week or take out another loan.
Jenn didn’t have the option of tacking on extra time at work; she had a full load. She wanted to get in and out of this experience as quickly and painlessly as possible. She didn’t want to be one of those full-time students for the rest of her life, racking up years upon years of debt that she can’t get herself out of. She was already an art major, she was getting what one could consider a useless degree. Minored in psychology because she had reasons. Everyone had reasons for the educational choices, though it was funny to her how often finance played a role in educational security. Jenn was going to end up either short on money for housing, or she was going to have to skimp on food for the next few weeks. Deciding she liked neither of these options, the woman took her phone in hand and decided to call someone.
Megan Fontaine had not gone to college. It was a fact that Jenn not-so-silently judged her for, having never really cared for Megan save for respecting one fact about her: Megan knew how to make money. Fast. She was never really hurting for anything financial and while Jenn might not have liked the kind of company Megan Fontaine kept, she couldn’t help but respect the fact that the woman ran a tight ship in her business. Maybe it was that Jenn lied to herself, pretended that she could respect Megan because she was successful but in actuality Jenn would rather sell a kidney than work with Megan Fontaine.
She was lacking in crooked doctor friends, so the two girls decided to meet up over lunch. Megan was paying.
“So, you’re a studio art major?” Megan asked. She’d filled out a little since high school. She was taller than Jenn, closer to five and a half feet tall. Her eyes were warm and brown, her cheeks full and her hair a natural blonde. She could have been the picture of what thought a southern belle looked like, but instead was unabashedly the queen of her trailer park. She brought something genteel with her that was undeniable. She went through all the motions of proper southern woman. She and Jenn had been through cotillion together- teaching disadvantaged girls social graces and propriety.
“Yeah,” Jenn said with her iced tea in hand. It was a little outdoor café they’d decided to stay at. Megan said they had a fantastic brunch and Jenn was never one to turn down free brunch, “I was thinking about getting a psychology degree but you can’t really do anything with it until you have a masters.”
“Sounds like a headache,” Megan laughed, “if I ever get time I feel like I should get an MBA. Give some legitimacy to the business.”
“Don’t you think that’s ironic?” Jenn asked.
“Says the woman who is making a request of a business woman in the alternate economy. You’re just the poster child for strain theory, aren’t you?”
“Things aren’t that bad,” Jenn said with an awkward smile.
“Then why you callin’ me, sugar? Normally when you call it’s because your boyfriend’s jonesing and he can’t be fucked to come out with you otherwise.”
“Elijah’s not my boyfriend.”
“I guess the grape vine was mistaken. I figured the only way you’d be interested in a job with me if you weren’t desperate was because you wanted to get him a discount,” Megan took a sip of her iced tea. There is a long time before she lets out that sound of quenched satisfaction, “I don’t’ do discounts, cherie.”
“Look, it’s just… there’s a whole side of things that I don’t get and I figured if I was going to learn them…. I’d rather learn them from a friend.”
This was enough to make Megan regard the girl in front of her before laughing. The sound was derisive. She looked over Jenn, at her small build and her dark hair. The entirety of the young woman seemed rather like a prey animal. Something that was built to run and hide instead of facing its problems head on.
“Jenna,” she said slowly, “if you’re going to get an ear for this world, I’m throwing you in head first. I have a package for you to pick up. Fourteenth Street and Kelly- you’re smart, you’ll be able to tell where the drop point is. I have a client that I want you to take it to. I’ll text you the address when you confirm you have the package, yeah?”
“What’s so special about this package?”
“None of my other delivery girls want to make the drop,” Megan told Jenn her tone droll.
“Because...?”
“Well, the nature of the deliveries this client requires are… unique. It’s really better that you don’t ask,” Megan said. She looked at the young woman at the table with her. Their mutual contact kept the girls in pretty constant contact with one another. Something about this exchange evened the playing field.
Megan extended her hand to the other woman, eyes steady as she went to meet the smaller woman’s gaze. It was a matter of will, control. Megan sat straight and tall, with the smile that said that she knew that Jenn would say yes, that she knew what the situation was that had her in need of a job that would pay cash and pay it quickly. Megan Fontaine always delivered, provided that deliveries were made. The two women shook hands; the blonde woman smiled.
“Grand, sugar, I need you to make the pickup at eight. Delivery at nine, and for heaven’s sake, try not to stare,” Megan chided.
“Stare?” Jenn asked with confusion.
“You’ll understand,” Megan assured her. The rest of brunch was met in relative silence. They didn’t have much to say with one another in the form of small talk.
Jenn didn’t have the option of tacking on extra time at work; she had a full load. She wanted to get in and out of this experience as quickly and painlessly as possible. She didn’t want to be one of those full-time students for the rest of her life, racking up years upon years of debt that she can’t get herself out of. She was already an art major, she was getting what one could consider a useless degree. Minored in psychology because she had reasons. Everyone had reasons for the educational choices, though it was funny to her how often finance played a role in educational security. Jenn was going to end up either short on money for housing, or she was going to have to skimp on food for the next few weeks. Deciding she liked neither of these options, the woman took her phone in hand and decided to call someone.
Megan Fontaine had not gone to college. It was a fact that Jenn not-so-silently judged her for, having never really cared for Megan save for respecting one fact about her: Megan knew how to make money. Fast. She was never really hurting for anything financial and while Jenn might not have liked the kind of company Megan Fontaine kept, she couldn’t help but respect the fact that the woman ran a tight ship in her business. Maybe it was that Jenn lied to herself, pretended that she could respect Megan because she was successful but in actuality Jenn would rather sell a kidney than work with Megan Fontaine.
She was lacking in crooked doctor friends, so the two girls decided to meet up over lunch. Megan was paying.
“So, you’re a studio art major?” Megan asked. She’d filled out a little since high school. She was taller than Jenn, closer to five and a half feet tall. Her eyes were warm and brown, her cheeks full and her hair a natural blonde. She could have been the picture of what thought a southern belle looked like, but instead was unabashedly the queen of her trailer park. She brought something genteel with her that was undeniable. She went through all the motions of proper southern woman. She and Jenn had been through cotillion together- teaching disadvantaged girls social graces and propriety.
“Yeah,” Jenn said with her iced tea in hand. It was a little outdoor café they’d decided to stay at. Megan said they had a fantastic brunch and Jenn was never one to turn down free brunch, “I was thinking about getting a psychology degree but you can’t really do anything with it until you have a masters.”
“Sounds like a headache,” Megan laughed, “if I ever get time I feel like I should get an MBA. Give some legitimacy to the business.”
“Don’t you think that’s ironic?” Jenn asked.
“Says the woman who is making a request of a business woman in the alternate economy. You’re just the poster child for strain theory, aren’t you?”
“Things aren’t that bad,” Jenn said with an awkward smile.
“Then why you callin’ me, sugar? Normally when you call it’s because your boyfriend’s jonesing and he can’t be fucked to come out with you otherwise.”
“Elijah’s not my boyfriend.”
“I guess the grape vine was mistaken. I figured the only way you’d be interested in a job with me if you weren’t desperate was because you wanted to get him a discount,” Megan took a sip of her iced tea. There is a long time before she lets out that sound of quenched satisfaction, “I don’t’ do discounts, cherie.”
“Look, it’s just… there’s a whole side of things that I don’t get and I figured if I was going to learn them…. I’d rather learn them from a friend.”
This was enough to make Megan regard the girl in front of her before laughing. The sound was derisive. She looked over Jenn, at her small build and her dark hair. The entirety of the young woman seemed rather like a prey animal. Something that was built to run and hide instead of facing its problems head on.
“Jenna,” she said slowly, “if you’re going to get an ear for this world, I’m throwing you in head first. I have a package for you to pick up. Fourteenth Street and Kelly- you’re smart, you’ll be able to tell where the drop point is. I have a client that I want you to take it to. I’ll text you the address when you confirm you have the package, yeah?”
“What’s so special about this package?”
“None of my other delivery girls want to make the drop,” Megan told Jenn her tone droll.
“Because...?”
“Well, the nature of the deliveries this client requires are… unique. It’s really better that you don’t ask,” Megan said. She looked at the young woman at the table with her. Their mutual contact kept the girls in pretty constant contact with one another. Something about this exchange evened the playing field.
Megan extended her hand to the other woman, eyes steady as she went to meet the smaller woman’s gaze. It was a matter of will, control. Megan sat straight and tall, with the smile that said that she knew that Jenn would say yes, that she knew what the situation was that had her in need of a job that would pay cash and pay it quickly. Megan Fontaine always delivered, provided that deliveries were made. The two women shook hands; the blonde woman smiled.
“Grand, sugar, I need you to make the pickup at eight. Delivery at nine, and for heaven’s sake, try not to stare,” Megan chided.
“Stare?” Jenn asked with confusion.
“You’ll understand,” Megan assured her. The rest of brunch was met in relative silence. They didn’t have much to say with one another in the form of small talk.