Boomerang Read Online Free Page A

my rattled state.
    “Internship,” he replies, and the word comes out heavy, like a confession.
    “For Boomerang.”
    He nods, and his hands busy themselves with the knot of his tie, reminding me of my own less-than-professional attire. I’m itching to get to my cell phone, to find out if Beth’s made it yet. “You too, huh?”
    I’m too shell-shocked to frame a reply, so I just nod like a dummy and start what feels like one of those weird dream-walks through a space that seems to shrink and expand with each step.
    I joked about never having seen Star Wars , but looking down a long expanse of gleaming bamboo floors, “The Imperial March” sounds in my head. The place is more Ridley Scott than George Lucas, though, with its curving white walls and recessed purple lighting. The cubicles have low smoked-glass walls and funky half-circle workstations. As Skyler would say, it looks like someone drank a feng shui cocktail and puked the decor.
    We pass a few cubicles occupied by girls in thick black glasses with asymmetrical haircuts and guys in skinny jeans with various configurations of facial hair. Hipster Central, it seems, though Adam Blackwood, Boomerang’s founder and president, looks like the love child of Ryan Gosling and . . . well, Ryan Gosling.
    “I’m supposed to . . .” Quickly, Ethan amends, “I guess we’re supposed to check in with HR, fill out some paperwork, surrender our firstborn. That sort of thing.”
    “Crap, I already surrendered my firstborn at the last job. Do you have a spare?”
    He grins at me. “How would I have a spare firstborn ?”
    “Oh, fine, you’re going to drag logic into the conversation?”
    A towering blond woman in an emerald-green suit with lapels sharp enough to slice cheese stalks toward us, her expression set somewhere between rabid and murderous.
    “You have got to be kidding me!” she shrieks as she comes alongside us and casts a tundra-cold glance in my direction.
    Immediately, I think she’s talking about my clothing, which, while not precisely appropriate, wouldn’t seem to merit a Teutonic hissy fit. But her eyes bounce away from me again, and she presses her hand to her ear. “If this guy doesn’t work out, I will have no problem jamming an ice pick up your skinny ass, Paolo,” she says, and I finally notice the Bluetooth device tucked up next to a chignon tight enough to give her cat eyes.
    She clips away, leaving flowers to shrivel and birds to drop from the sky in her wake.
    “Jesus,” Ethan mutters, and I realize I’ve actually grabbed onto his arm in terror. “Here’s hoping she’s not the HR rep.”
    I allow myself a moment’s enjoyment before releasing him. “Here’s hoping she doesn’t even work here.”
    He smiles. “Here’s hoping she’s leaving on a ten-year cruise.”
    “To Antarctica.”
    “To reunite with her clan, the snow beasts.”
    I laugh. And my eyes find his again. Maybe I’ve lucked into more than just an internship here.
    “Sorry to break up the party,” says a voice behind us.
    I turn to find Beth standing near a doorway marked with a pink heart made of two boomerangs. She wears a stick-straight black wig over her kinky hair and rocks a ridiculous blue gingham romper. Like some kind of vampire farm girl—from Harlem.
    Rattling a plastic bag at me, she says, “Chop, chop, girl. Let’s jump in here and get you fixed up. I have another go-see at noon, and it’s way the hell up in Burbank.”
    “Thank God you made it.” I rush to her side, calling out a quick intro as I push open the door to the ladies room.
    Her shrewd black eyes take in every inch of Ethan, and she reaches out a perfect set of purple acrylics to shake his hand.
    “I like your . . .” Ethan makes a sweeping gesture that manages to encompass pretty much all of Beth.
    “Yeah, I like yours too.” She slaps my butt, moving me through the door. “If you’re a good boy, maybe Mia will share sometime.”
    “Beth!”
    The door swings shut