“Welcome to my humble abode!” Harry invited Sean in with a wave of his hand. Sean followed his cousin’s gesturing arm and stepped inside, feeling the warmth of the room blow over him. When Harry mentioned that he lived ‘only a few blocks away’, he imagined that he lived with his parents in a house like that of Sean. So when Sean walked over to Forsythe Heights and saw the immaculately cut gardens and hedges surrounding a beautiful gated apartment complex, he was surprised. Sean’s house was just under the size of the smallest apartment in the whole complex. There wasn’t any doubt that Sean’s third time removed cousin had a lot of money, or at least, his parents did.
    “Wow.”
    Sean stood in the middle of Harry’s apartment, surveying the entire scene and taking the incredibly clean and pristine layout. The whole apartment felt as spacious as the Guggenheim Museum but still had a quaint delicateness at the center of the kitchen, leaning close to home. The living space was coated with white carpet, the counters were brushed quartz, and the rest of the floor was either honey oak floorboards or white tiles. The sheer space that allowed Sean’s eyes to be able to see from the front door into the rest of the apartment made Sean dizzy for a second. Not because of the aesthetics of it all, but he never imagined how an apartment could look so… heavenly.
    The apartment was two floors up and it’s windows that overlooked the edge of the complex’s boundaries gave Harry a full view of the city below. Sean could only imagine how the view would like at night. And the crowning jewel of the whole place was that Sean could barely notice the traffic din from outside.
    “‘Wow’ indeed, isn’t it?” Harry replied, walking over to the kitchen island and popping the lid off a soda. Walking over to Sean, Harry handed his cousin the opened can and chuckled at the look on the young man’s face.
    Sean tried not to stare at his cousin, a silly grin on his face.
    “How…? Wha-...how?” Sean flustered, not even bothering to look down at the cold sparkling beverage in his hand. Harry shook his head, unable to release a good hearted laugh.
    “Try take a deep breath. Once you regain consciousness, pick a question and start from there.”
    Sean pursed his lips, still grinning.
    “This place has got to be, like, what? Fifteen hundred dollars per month minimum?”
    “Not really a question, but that’ll do.” Harry remarked, a slight hint of patronization in his voice. Although, Harry’s humor usually consisted of that and sarcasm. “It actually costs twenty, and it’s not a bad deal.”
“No kidding…” Sean trailed off as his eyes wandered the ceiling. Even the designers hadn’t forgotten to add a stylized fresco painting on the ceiling just to remind you how fancy the apartment was. The painting copied the image of a summer afternoon sky at twilight, angling straight into the stars that just barely peeked over a flock of clouds and one small group of geese. He rubbed the back of his head, walking slowly into the room and allowing his mind to be preoccupied by the subtle magnificence that was Harry’s apartment. Then, when he was done gawking, he looked over at Harry, taking a sip of his soda.
    “This is one awesome place you got here.” Sean commented breathlessly as he put down his can on the kitchen island. “I didn’t know you were so darn rich.”
    “Don’t blame me,” Harry held up his hands in mock defense. “Blame the system. I only inherited this money by accident.”
    “Yeah, I would say so.” Sean nodded, taking one last look around the apartment. “How did you come upon the money? Rich uncle?”
    “Not that serendipitous.” Harry replied, rubbing his clean shaven chin. “Just a distant relative on my dad’s side. He left a sizable portion of gold and bonds when he passed, and it took awhile for everything to be processed, but here-”
    Harry spread out his arms to the apartment room.
    “-is a little taste of my family’s ...oh, say...riches?”
    Harry laughed, and brought up his soda can to clink--or bump--against Sean’s. They both took a sip.
    “But don’t worry. I’m not like a one percenter.” Harry joked. “The bulk of the inherited wealth went to charities and orphanages and we held onto a humble amount.”
    “Yeah, if you call a few million humble.” Sean commented, chugging down his soda. Harry shook his head, frowning.
    “No, no, it’s not like that,” assured Harry. “Seriously, though. I worked hard for what I have, and there’s nothing that’s stopping anyone else on this good earth. We all have equal opportunity, afterall.”
    Sean nodded, sliding a hand on the smooth countertop.
    “Yeah, it’s just not all of us are rich.” Sean sighed, grinning.
    “So, let me guess why you’re here.” Harry began, cleverly changing the conversation. “You’re here about the job details and whatnot about my dad’s old friend’s museum, right?”
    “Yup.” Sean said, following Harry over to a set of couches aligned facing a large flatscreen TV. “But not in those exact words.”
    “Alright.” Harry said, reaching for another soda can and cracking it open, releasing a satisfying hiss. “What do you need to know?”
    Sean rubbed his hands together, tilting his head.
    “Okay, um, how about we start off with who exactly is wanting a custodian? You said he was a, uh…” Sean paused, squinting up at Harry. “What was he again?”
    “He’s a curator.” Harry chuckled, setting down his soda can and reaching underneath the island, withdrawing a yellow manila folder. “He owns a not-so-well known museum near here, actually.”
    “Really? Well, I guess that explains why I haven’t heard his job offer.” Sean frowned, putting both hands on the island quartz counter and stared at the file Harry was opening. The file was fairly thin, containing a cut-out column from a newspaper, two business cards, and a two by four picture of an old, smiling man who Sean guessed was the ‘old friend’.
    Sean picked up the picture of the jolly faced man.
    “How come he didn’t put up any ads in the newspaper?”
    Harry shrugged listlessly, spreading out the items from the folder onto the the counter for Sean to look at.
    “How should I know?” Harry responded, smirking. “You can ask him yourself.”
    Sean touched the strip of the cut out newspaper column and stared at the headline. Most of it was blotched out and smeared in all directions, like it had been in the rain and someone had tried to save what was left by brushing away the water. From what Sean could make out, the headline read:
Grand Op  ing of New M  suem in Hardro k Cou ty
    Sean scanned over the rest of the newspaper column, hoping to find any more information about the museum, but all he could get out of it was a headache and that the museum’s opening and closing hours on Wednesday and Thursday. Most of the introduction’s article was smudged beyond recognition.
    Sean looked up to Harry, who was gulping down the rest of his soda and squished it flat in between his palms.
    “We have a museum around here?” asked Sean, bewildered. Harry nodded, lips pursed.
    “Yeah. You’ve never seen it before?”
    “I’ve never even heard of it!” Sean scoffed, glancing away from the newspaper column and to the picture of the curator of the museum. Sean suspected that the photo was taken inside the museum, considering a giant dinosaur skeleton loomed behind him in the background. The picture was mostly covered by the smiling man’s body, from chest up and didn’t show much of the background, which Sean thought was odd. If they were opening a brand new museum, at least show some of the inside.
    The curator was dressed in a bright red long sleeve polo, his white hair was tucked behind his head and his tan brown face was loaded with wrinkles, possibly because he smiled so much. For an elderly guy, the man had a great big smile that almost made Sean grin.
    “What’s his name?”
    Harry looked at the point where Sean was looking.
    “He’s the gentleman that’s hiring. Jon Smyth.”
    Sean blinked. The name rolled around his brain for half of a second and then he blurted out, “Seriously? His name’s Jon Smyth?”
    Harry shrugged, putting both hands in his pockets.
    “I am not messing with you. That guy’s name is legit; Jon Smyth.”
    Sean shook his head slowly, straightening.
    “Ahhh, I don’t know, an old guy named Jon Smyth who owns a museum that I’ve never heard of before? You might as well slap a mustache on him and call him El Chapo.”
    “You know,” Harry began, chuckling slightly. “You shouldn’t make fun of your potential boss.”
    “I know, I know.” Sean said, nodding and tapping the counter absently. He looked up and stared at Harry, all seriousness coming back. “And you say he’ll bend a few rules?”
    Harry gave his cousin a meaningful look, somehow managing to imitate Sean’s dad.
    “Look, Sean. If this makes you uncomfortable, just don’t do it. There are other jobs.”
    Sean bit the inside of his lower lip, the striking fear of indecision beginning to crowd the deepest recesses of his mind. Were there any more jobs? Sean had been looking for odd jobs around the entire city, and none of them were willing to allow a kid who was seventeen years and six months old who was hard on his luck to work for them. Next year was a possibility, with his birthday exactly one year from now, but that would be too late.
    Sean remembered the words his mother had said. The attorney estimates that there’s barely enough money to keep us afloat next year…
    Sean knew time was like a horse without reins; next year would roll around, and whether or not he found a job once he turned eighteen, it would all be too late. He would only get a job just after they went into bankruptcy. Sean knew too well that even finding odd jobs as a minor was hard enough, how was he ever going to find a part time job at the end of summer?
    Harry looked into Sean’s deliberating eyes. “If you want, you can skip this one and we can work finding you another job somewhere else.”
    Sean gulped down the rising fear in his throat, squared his shoulders, and shoved the image of bankruptcy out a mental window.
    “I need this job offer, Harry.” Sean said trying his best to put all his confidence in his words, knowing deep inside that he wasn’t just trying to convince his cousin, but himself too. As Sean spoke, he became more animated, his hands finding ways to express themselves and accentuate his words.
“Next month will be too late, and the month after that. If I don’t find a job by December... the family lawyer says...” Sean looked down, his words spilling out, his jaw moving in and out. “Look,” Sean continued. “what I’m saying is that I’m in. I’m in for whatever this… this Jon Smyth has to offer. I don’t think I’ll get another chance like this again, and I don’t intend to miss an opportunity, no matter what it is.”
    Harry nodded, seeing the growing confidence in Sean’s eyes.
    “You’re a really gutsy fella, aren’t you?” Harry said, a twinkle sparking in his left. Sean let out a short bark of laughter, tension seeming to fall off his shoulders.
    “Yeah, my mom keeps reminding me.” Sean replied, scratching the tip of his nose. “So, when do I meet with the old timer?”
    Smiling, Harry nudged the side of his cousin’s shoulder.   “That’s the spirit.” Although as encouraging Harry’s words were, Sean still felt the seeping well of anxiety in the pit of his stomach.
    “He’ll have to meet you first. He doesn’t want just anybody that’s picked off the streets, you know.” Harry packed the pieces of information back into the manila folder and handed it to Sean. “And I’ve set up everything for you-the meeting place, background information, references-I got it all covered on my side.”
    Nodding slowly, Sean took the file and pursed his lips.
    Harry continued. “All you got to do is get an okay from your mom and the date and time you want to meet him.”
    “Sounds good.” Sean sighed, exhaling a pent up breath that had trapped itself inside his gut all afternoon. “I appreciate you doing this for me. It--it means a lot to me. And my family.”
    Harry nodded, coming around the counter and slapping Sean heartily on the shoulders.
    “Anything for family, right?”
    Sean nodded, and walked towards the apartment door, being led by Harry.
    “Right.” Sean affirmed absently as he stared at the file in his hands, taking out the photo of his potential boss. Just before he walked out Harry’s apartment, Sean turned around, facing his cousin.
    “How much does this job pay?”
    Harry ran a hand through his dun colored hair and tilted his head from side to side.
    “Depends. But from what I’ve heard from my dad, the pay you get by being a custodian is usually higher than the state’s minimum wage, so-o-o…” Harry squinted, his thick brown eyebrows clashing together as he thought. “If I remember right, that’s about ...thirteen hundred dollars.”
    Sean raised both eyebrows, feeling a tingling sensation in his gut. “Per month?”
    Harry shook his head, suppressing a smile, slowing down his pronunciation for effect.
    “Per week.”