Blitzed(78)

I shrugged, rolling my shoulder. "I am an active electric guitar player, but I haven't played piano or violin in a long time. Personal reasons."

Harry nodded, not probing deeper, which I appreciated. While I wasn't going through anything like PTSD symptoms any longer, I still wasn’t comfortable talking about what happened to me eight years prior. "Okay, Miss Banks. Well then, I think you can tell, I'd love to have you come on board as part of JANM. I do have one more question, and this has no bearing on the offer for tour guide."

I was so happy I couldn't even think straight, my smile spreading across my face until I was sure it stretched earlobe to earlobe. I could actually buy food soon, and not scout out dumpster diving locations. “Go ahead, whatever you have to ask."

"Well, I can assume from your work history and what you just said, you're trying to make it in the music business?"

I nodded carefully. "I am, but the going's tough right now. Not a lot of demand for female rock guitarists."

"I can bet. My own daughter listens to nothing but One Direction and Nikki Minaj, which I personally can't stand. I guess my father said the same thing about my listening to Bruce Springsteen back in my days. In any case, the custodial staff also needs help. I know it's a dirtier job, but it's late nights, something a musician might be used to. If you’re interested, do you think I could interest you in that say, three nights a week in the mid-week? You'd still have Fridays through Mondays to do gigs and such if you want. That would bring you up to full time, and you'd be covered under the JANM's insurance and other policies."

I didn't care at all about health insurance, I'd skipped my sign up more than once. It wasn't like I had the money to afford it either way. But, being full time was a great bonus. "Mr. Takahashi, that sounds fantastic. On one condition, though. I have to be allowed to wear separate outfits for custodial work and tour guides. There is no way I'm scrubbing toilets in a nylon skirt."





Chapter 2





Jordan





For the first two weeks on the job, I was too busy trying to learn about my duties to worry about anything else. Scottie eventually came up with her half of the rent due more to her parents calling the house when I happened to pick up than anything else, and I had enough money to at least drive to JANM instead of taking mass transit until my first paycheck came due. Los Angeles was a lot safer than it had been in the gang wars of the late eighties and early nineties, but I still wouldn't want to ride the bus or trains at night without carrying some serious weaponry.

With over a hundred thousand square feet of displays, there was a lot to learn about the exhibits at the JANM. Harry paired me up with some of the more experienced tour guides who showed me the ropes, including the little tricks they used to remember their spiel. It wasn't all that hard actually, since each of the tour guides carried a little flip book of notes that we could refer to if we lost our place. Since a lot of the exhibits were housed in their own rooms, I could give a general introduction to the room's theme, and then only have to point out one or two signature pieces inside before stepping back and letting the visitors look around for themselves.

More difficult than the tour guide portion was the janitorial work. When I'd agreed to Harry's offer of night work, I had anticipated a pretty easy job. I mean, JANM is a museum, not a restaurant. Run a dust mop up and down the floors, make sure the garbage is taken out, and you're good to go, right? I should have been able to get two to three hours of sleep a night on the clock if I did things quickly.

Wrong. It was some of the hardest work of my life. A single room could take two hours or more to do, on top of all the other daily cleaning. It was a full six-hour shift of hard work that sometimes went late. I got used to stumbling into the house near dawn, my eyes red and blurred from the odors of the chemicals I had to use to clean the tile floors.

Still, it was a paycheck, and Harry was happy with my work. Of all the odd jobs I'd done in my time since graduating high school and trying to make it as a musician, it was in the upper half of them. I hadn't been sexually harassed and I wasn't working like a slave for minimum wage. I was even able to have time to practice my guitar playing.

I had just finished my training for being a guide when a new exhibit came in. Harry, who up until then had been a very laid back, hands-off type of boss, suddenly made himself much more noticeable around the museum. I didn't know why until he called everyone into the main exhibit room on a Monday morning. I had done an audition the day before, but had finished up in time to get some decent sleep, so I wasn't quite wiping the last of the night crusties out of my eyes when he got up on top of a box to look over the group.

He cleared his voice and quieted down the group. "Hi everyone, I'm glad you could make it in, even those of you on the night shift. A few questions have been cropping up, namely why I've been running around the museum so much instead of just sitting behind my desk. Sorry about that, I didn't want to irritate anyone or to freak you all out, but we've had some amazing news come in the last week, and I had to make sure things were ready.

"As most of you know, our new seasonal exhibit is on the samurai. While the JANM has its own collection of weapons, armor, documents and other artifacts, we always try to borrow more exclusive items from some of our partner museums whenever we can. A week ago last Friday, I got a call from the Japanese consulate in Los Angeles. They've agreed, as part of the Prime Minister's program of encouraging interest in Japan's cultural heritage, to lend us two dozen of the Kokuho."