"Well damn, the phrase 'mess around and find out' really applies everywhere, huh? What I thought was just another casual day at work turned out to be my last day breathing on this earth. I should have left this damn job when I had the chance. The signs were there. They were always there."
It all started a year ago—what I thought would be an easy job.
It was the middle of summer, and Orin had just graduated from college. He was desperate for work. He needed a job.
"Hey, kid!"
Orin flinched at the voice and turned to see his neighbor, Andrew.
Andrew was exactly the kind of man parents warned their kids not to become—overweight, middle-aged, stuck in a dead-end job, gambling away his earnings, living paycheck to paycheck. And on top of all that? The man was drunk as a fish nearly every time Orin saw him.
Orin shook off his initial surprise and sighed in relief when he realized who it was.
"Oh, it's you, Andrew. What do you want?" Orin muttered, turning his back to him as he unlocked his apartment door.
Andrew frowned at the cold reception. "Hey, hey, don't be like that, kid. We've known each other for months!"
Orin exhaled sharply, already irritated. "Yeah, and in those months, we've barely spoken. The only time you talk to me is when you want to ask for money. I wouldn't say we have a good relationship. And—" Orin turned back to Andrew, raising an eyebrow, "—you still owe me twenty dollars."
Andrew scoffed and waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, I know. I'll pay you back, alright?"
He reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out his wallet. So slow, in fact, that it felt deliberate—like he wanted Orin to capture the moment, to remember it.
And Orin did.
Because the man he thought was a no-good bum pulled out a fresh fifty-dollar bill.
But that wasn't what stunned Orin.
It was the stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills tucked inside his wallet.
"Andrew…?" Orin muttered, eyes narrowing.
Where the hell did this guy get so much money?
Andrew, seeing the reaction, grew smug. "That's right. Your favorite neighbor has made some changes."
Orin examined him. Fresh clothes. Expensive shoes—no creases.
"I got myself a job, kid. A good one. Pays well too." Andrew was grinning, watching Orin, clearly expecting something. But instead of curiosity, all he got was cold efficiency.
Orin snatched the fifty-dollar bill out of Andrew's hands. "I guess I'll take this as interest. This puts an end to our relationship. Goodbye, Andrew. Have a good life."
And with that, he slammed the door shut.
Andrew stood stunned, confused, staring at the closed door.
"Isn't he gonna ask me where I got this money from?" Andrew whispered to himself, disappointed that things hadn't gone the way he expected.
After a beat, he knocked on the door again.
"Yo, Orin, I heard you're looking for a job, I've—"
"Andrew, I'm not interested in whatever you've got going on. Please leave. We no longer have any relationship with each other."
Andrew smacked his lips. "Listen, Orin, I was just gonna say—"
Orin cut him off. "I know you want to offer me a position at your job, and I'm not interested in whatever shady thing you or whoever you work for are doing. So please leave before I call the cops."
"But Orin, listen, I was just gonna—"
"Andrew. Enough. Just leave. I'm not interested."
Andrew sighed, dejected, then turned and walked back toward his apartment. Before going inside, he glanced over his shoulder one last time.
Orin exhaled deeply, relieved that Andrew had finally given up. His heart was still pounding, though.
He was curious about Andrew's job. How could someone like him be making that kind of money?
Still, Orin knew better than to get involved. Whatever Andrew had going on, it wasn't legal.
And besides… he had bigger problems to deal with.
Orin clenched his fists. Damn. I probably shouldn't have hit them.
He glanced down at his hand, flexing his fingers. I wonder if they're going to report me.
He sighed. If they do, there's nothing I can do about it. It's out of my control now. No use worrying about it.
But despite telling himself that, he was stressing his butt off.
"I need to distract myself."
He pulled out his phone and collapsed onto his couch.
Things were going to get stressful—no doubt about it.
When Orin graduated, his parents had given him two months to get his life together before cutting off all financial support. And he knew they weren't bluffing—he'd overheard them talking about it months ago.
And now? Time was up.
They had recommended jobs. He had ignored them.
Why? Because Orin was the god of procrastination.
Whenever he was supposed to do something, he told himself: "Later."
But for him, later meant never.
Before he knew it, he had graduated, his parents had cut him off, and his girlfriend had cheated on him.
Yeah. This summer sucked.
"I need a job. Badly."
His degree was in computer programming, but every place he applied to wanted prior experience. And that was his own fault—he had taken no internships. He had wasted all his time having fun, playing video games, messing around with his friends.
"Damn, I'm screwed. I can't find a job. I'm running low on funds. My girlfriend cheated on me—with my supposed best friend."
Life was crashing around him.
He shuddered as a thought crept into his mind.
Was this how it started? The downward spiral? Was he going to end up like Andrew?
Hell. No.
"I gotta do something about this."
He started pacing, desperate, frantic.
"Job, job, job… gotta find a job." He muttered, hands tangled in his hair, as panic clawed at his chest.
And then—he remembered Andrew's words.
He groaned, rubbing his temple. Yeah, no, I really can't work for whatever job he's got going on.
A. He was probably working for a gang doing something illegal. B. It could be a setup—he could be getting dragged to a secluded location to have his organs harvested. C. Millions of other terrifying possibilities raced through his mind.
Finally, he gave in.
Maybe I should just go ask him.
Orin took a deep breath, then walked to Andrew's apartment—hesitant, second-guessing himself the entire way.
He knocked. "Yo, Andrew?"
No answer.
He knocked louder.
Still nothing.
"Yo, is this guy gonna answer? It's only been two hours since we last talked. Wait—don't tell me he's already drunk."
Orin pounded on the door.
Finally, Andrew answered—staggering into view.
Orin's nose wrinkled at the sharp, pungent scent wafting from Andrew and his apartment.
"You're already this drunk?"
Andrew squinted at him. "Huh?"
Orin scoffed. "Well, well, well… old habits die hard."
Andrew blinked. "What the hell does that mean?"
"Nothing," Orin muttered. "Anyway, about that job—what was it?"
Andrew snapped out of his drunken stupor.
"Wait, what was that?" His lips curled into a smug grin. "Could you repeat yourself? I didn't quite hear you."
Orin gritted his teeth.
"I need your help finding a job."
Andrew, satisfied, chuckled.
"Now that's more like it.