Lousiana Hotshot

“dese” and “dose.”
    When Eddie Valentino spoke again, interrupting her silent ocular love song, she nearly did a double take. “I’ll think about it, Ms. Wallis.”
    “You’ll think about it? Here I stay up half the night to show you what I can do, and then I get here before sunrise, and you’ll
think
about it?”
    And for the first time in the interview, sad, soulful Eddie Valentino really did smile— a broad, amused, gotcha smile. “I thought it only took you ten minutes. Hour and a half at the most.”
    “I’m making a point, Mr. Valentino. I tend to exaggerate when I’m making a point. And the point is, I’m your hotshot. Who else was here before your door opened with a complete dossier on you? I mean, what’s the definition of a hotshot?”
    He smiled again, “You’re a ball of fire, all right. I just gotta sleep on it, that’s all.”
    “Oh. Well.” Twice Talba had made him smile. Maybe that’s what her mission was; maybe that was all she was meant to do. Of course he had to sleep on it. What was she thinking?
    I’m believing my own P.R.,
she thought, and felt embarrassed.
What did I think he was going to do? Welcome me like a long-lost daughter?

Chapter 2
    Eddie rubbed his eyes.
Whoa,
he thought.
Pushy. I better get some more coffee.
He watched her indignant tail switch out of the office, and thought how tired he was; how much he wished he had Talba Wallis’s energy. How much, in fact, he wished he were her age again.
    He forebore to ask Eileen to bring him a cuppa joe— lately everything he did was construed as being old, infirm, or otherwise messed up— and limped in to get one for himself.
    Hell,
he thought.
Just hell.
And tried calling his daughter. Of course he didn’t get her. He never got her. He tried her on her cell phone.
    “Yeah?” she said. Just like that.
    “Ya gotta talk like a truck driver?”
    “Dad, I’m in court. Judge Hart’s gonna ream me out— I forgot to turn my phone off.” She hung up.
    What the hell was up with girls anymore? Or maybe it was just Angie. Maybe she was a dyke. There were people who said so.
Hell,
he thought again, not sure why he was in such a crummy mood.
    He figured he’d wasted enough time. Sighing, he turned on the damn computer. He’d lost his zest for the job, really lost it. These days, fifty percent of it— thirty, anyhow— had to be done on a computer— and the damn thing made his eyes hurt. Made his wrists hurt. Oh, yeah. Carpal tunnel, the whole thing. It gave him the worst headaches he’d ever had in his life. So bad Audrey and Angie kept hounding him to go to the doctor.
    Yeah, right. He was sure gonna go to some pansy-assed doctor. When hell froze over. He didn’t even want to go when he got hurt; figured the leg would heal on its own, and it might have. He just would have bled to death first.
    Well, Angie was right about one thing— something had to give. He just didn’t know what.
    On the whole it turned out to be an okay morning. He’d done two employment checks and one premarital when his daughter breezed in. He was glad to see her. It meant he could turn the damn machine off, rest his eyes a little.
    “Angie! Help yaself to coffee.”
    “No thanks. My damn client didn’t show. Hearing got postponed.” She was wearing a black tailored suit. That was all she ever wore these days— all any women ever wore, seemed like.
    He passed her yesterday’s
Times-Picayune,
the section with his ad circled. He knew she wouldn’t have seen it— nobody reads classifieds unless they’re looking for a job.
    “Daddy! Don’t tell me you ran this.”
    “Ya didn’t want me to? Ya wrote it, didn’t ya?”
    “I was just trying to illustrate that the person you claim to want doesn’t exist.”
    “I happened to interview a very qualified applicant already.”
    “Oh, yeah?” She brightened up, smiling like the old Angie, the little kid he never wanted to lose. It really pissed him off that she grew up. “What’s he like?”
    “Kind of like God,” he said. He’d been waiting to deliver that line.
    “What?” She spoke in the tone of a mother whose kid has just told another tall one.
    “You heard me.” He was enjoying this.
    “What in the name of all that’s holy does Eddie Valentino find godlike about a computer nerd?”
    “She’s black.” Eddie couldn’t help it, he had a weakness for dumb jokes. The older the better.
    Angie didn’t even laugh, way too snotty to even be bothered. She was so