FIVE Cera
FIVE
Cera
The Den: A krewe builds its floats behind locked doors in a guarded den, the whole spectacle assembled in secret long before the city ever sees it roll. Some things are kept boxed and unseen on purpose, wheeled out only when you choose.
I push through the heavy glass doors, and the damp Louisiana air hits me first. In February, it sits cool on my skin instead of the summer heat that bites.
The building behind me is all glass and steel and money, the kind that makes someone like me stand up straighter on instinct.
I made it through. I just need the offer to come through and sign, and I'm employed again. A real paycheck, no more stressing about this OnlyFans stuff ending with no notice, leaving me unable to pay my bills again.
I'm grateful that my time with Midnight has allowed me to build my safety net back up, but it's time for a dependable, real paycheck.
Sandra was nice enough, warm even, after I finished up with Mr. Stone.
She told me the offer would come by the end of the day if he approved.
She said he can be difficult, and that he's never had someone working directly under him.
I could have figured that one out just by the mere fact that he was trying to talk me out of taking the job before he even told me about the job.
I reach my car and unlock the door with a click that echoes in the parking deck. I slide into the driver's seat, and my shoulders finally unclench. I breathe in and exhale slowly through my teeth. Three interviews in, I have to get this job.
I think about Wells Stone, the man who might become my boss.
He's tall, lean, and broad through the shoulders in a way that fills a doorframe without needing to prove anything.
His dark hair is somewhere between clean-cut and a little disheveled.
His tailored suit leaves no question about the fact that he's a Stone, even if he's a little more rugged-looking than the typical businessman, corporate type.
In spite of his gruffness, his sharp, angular features almost make up for it. I guess if I do have to grin and bear it while working for him, at least he will be nice to look at.
My throat is still dry from the meeting. My shoulders ache from holding a professional posture for over an hour. He told me working for him wouldn't be a walk in the park. After sitting across from him, I have no doubt.
Still, it doesn't scare me off. I need this job.
If for no one else, then for myself, I need to prove I can stand on my own two feet without depending on anyone.
Cas and my breakup did more than break my heart.
He shook my self-confidence. And this three-month job search with endless rejections hasn't helped.
I start the car and the engine hums to life. My hands stay on the wheel, but I don't pull out yet when my phone pings.
The screen glows bright against my hand. I have a new email. I click the envelope icon to open up my email. The top one grabs my attention.
Stone Intermodal - Offer of Employment - Cera Simum.
My heart speeds up. I tap the message and the text loads, black on white, formal and careful.
Dear Ms. Simum,
On behalf of Stone Intermodal, I am pleased to extend an offer of employment for the position of Data Visualization Designer. If you would like to move forward, click the link below to begin the paperwork in our secure portal.
I read it twice. Three times. The words don't change. I'm not imagining things.
The salary sits near the top, a number that makes my throat close. It's not just good. It's more than I was making at my last job.
This offer is contingent upon completion of the standard background check, security clearance, and execution of the enclosed non-disclosure agreement.
My fingers tighten around the phone, and the plastic case digs into my palm.
My mind flips through the layers I built around my OnlyFans persona.
Surely not. It's an anonymous account, routed through three different VPNs, with fake location tags.
Then there's the whole costume, enough to make me physically indistinguishable.
Nothing ties the account to my real name, right?
A wave of panic rushes through me. I've never had a second thought about a background check before, and now, suddenly, I wonder if that is something someone could find if they really wanted to.
The weight in my chest shifts, then settles.
I'm careful. I've always been careful. They would need to know where to look, and no one is looking.
That's enough to calm me, at least for now. I'll breathe easier once that comes back clear.
I swipe to the reply box and type fast before the caution in my chest can take root.
Sandra, thank you so much. I accept and will work on the portal documents this afternoon.
I hit send and drop the phone into my lap before backing out. Locke asked me to drop by after the interview, and I'm nearly vibrating to tell someone. I turn toward St. Anne Street.
When I arrive, hardly remembering the drive, I knock twice. I push through Locke's front door before he can answer. The apartment smells like coffee and the lavender candle he burns in the bathroom.
The couch sits under the window, piled with throw pillows that never match. Locke stands in the kitchen with a clear glass of what looks like iced tea in one hand and his phone in the other.
He looks up and grins.
"So?"
I hold my phone up and wave it.
"I got the job," I yell giddily, covering my mouth.
"They sent me an email before I even pulled out of the parking garage."
Locke slams the glass down on the counter and crosses the room in three steps. He pulls me into a hug and I laugh against his shoulder. He smells like detergent and something minty. When he pulls back, his hands stay on my arms.
"Cera. That's huge."
My chest tightens, and I nod fast before the burn behind my eyes can start again.
"Yeah. It's real. Finally, a job."
He squeezes once and then lets go. I drop onto the couch and sink into the cushions. My body finally catches up with the last two hours. The adrenaline drains out and leaves me loose and tired.
I had no idea what three and a half months of being unemployed was doing to my psyche.
Locke sits across from me on the coffee table, legs spread, elbows on his knees.
"You like the place? Do you think this is going to be a good fit for you?"
"The place is fine. It's huge, with glass everywhere. It's definitely fancier than any building I've ever worked in."
"Did you meet the boss? What's he like?"
I groan and tip my head back against the couch.
"Complete dick. I mean, he's nice to look at, so you would be in heaven. But he smells like an ashtray."
Locke laughs.
"How is he a dick?"
"I mean, nothing specific. He just comes across like an important asshat."
"What did he say?"
"Besides trying to tell me how shitty the job was? Nothing, really."
"And what did you say?"
"I told him I could handle it."
Locke grins wider.
"Atta girl. And you said he's hot?"
My stomach flips, and I roll my eyes hard enough to hurt. "You're such a male slut. Unfortunately for everyone involved, he's too hot for his own good."
Locke claps once and points at me.
"Oh, this is perfect. Did he have a ring on?"
"It is not perfect. The man has the personality of a penny. And no, not that I would care anyway, he did not have a ring on."
"A penny?"
"Flat, cold, and moderately interesting because it's copper."
Locke laughs so hard he has to cover his mouth. I cross my arms and glare at him.
He holds his hands up, but his grin does not fade.
"Okay, okay. What else? Describe him."
I sigh just as the image of Wells Stone flickers back into focus. Tall, sharp, dark hair and eyes that gave nothing back.
"And you're irritated about that. It sounds like a dream come true, if you ask me."
"Unlike you, a good-looking man isn't all there is to earning my attraction."
"You're irritated in a way that has energy in it. I have a sneaking suspicion we aren't that different when it comes to what attracts us, and a grumpy hottie is definitely top of the list."
"Stop reading into things."
Locke laughs again and leans back on his hands.
"Okay, but you're taking the job anyway."
"Obviously. I need the money, and the work is exactly what I want to be doing."
"See, aren't you glad you expanded your job search beyond Mark Rudy and medical billing?"
I pull my knees up onto the couch and wrap my arms around them. The apartment is warm. The light coming through the window softens everything.
"Yeah. Thanks for the nudge. You're good for me."
Locke's grin fades into something gentler. "You know what this means though, right?"
"What?"
"Your dating life just got a lot more complicated."
I frown and drop my legs off the couch.
"What are you talking about? I don't have a dating life."
Locke leans forward and props his chin on his hand, grin spreading wider.
"I think what you need is to get laid. Properly. By someone who isn't Cas."
Heat flashes up my neck, and I grab one of the throw pillows and chuck it at his face. He catches it without flinching.
"I'm not talking about this with you."
"You should be. You've been stuck in your head for months. The only man you've touched is a voice on your laptop."
"Locke."
"What? Maybe the hot, terrible boss is exactly what you need to finally clear Cas out of your system."
"No wonder you work for yourself. That's a terrible idea, and plus, I have no interest in the man. Stop making everything about sex. I'm serious."
Locke shrugs and tosses the pillow back onto the couch.
"Just saying, I'm looking out for your best interest."
"Stop trying to get me laid. That's not helpful. I'm done with sex, anyway."
Locke tilts his head. His grin softens into something closer to concern. "Okay, then Midnight's gravelly voice and sexual commands will have to do, I suppose. He can be your boyfriend until you get tired of him."
"He's not my boyfriend."
Even as I say it, a sense of affection rises up in my chest about him. Do I have feelings for a faceless man I've only talked to online late at night? One who pays me, no less, for my time?
"You talk to him for hours. You light up when he calls, and arrange your real life activities around your calls. That's not just a transaction, Cera."
"I know exactly what it is and what it isn't."
My face heats as I stand up fast, crossing to the window where the light hits warmer. I press my palms against the sill and breathe in through my nose.
Locke's voice comes quieter behind me. "I know. I'm just saying maybe you're allowed to want more than survival."
My throat tightens, and I cross my arms over my chest.
"I want stability. I want to stop depending on anyone else and build something that's mine and can't be taken away. That's what I want. No boyfriends, no sex."
"Okay. I'll stop pushing, then."
I exhale. "Thank you."
He bumps my shoulder with his and grins again, smaller this time. "But if you do end up sleeping with the boss, I want details."
I shove him, and he laughs, backing toward the kitchen. "Get out of my apartment."
"It's my apartment," he huffs back.
"Then I'm leaving. I've got to fill out new hire paperwork and submit for a background check."