“Honestly, Kev.” Started Phoenix, batting the pen floating above her head. “I don’t see why you can’t just start your own business or something.”

Kev groaned from the couch he was draped over. A magazine, three pens, two pencils, and $4.27 in change floated around him. “Doing what? Making coins float?” He asked, sitting up. “I can barely control it half the time.”

Phoenix stood and started plucking coins out of the air. “Yeah. ‘Kevin’s coin floats, 25 cents a pop!’”

Kevin flopped back onto the couch. “You’re no help.” He said.

“If I’m no help then why do you keep asking me for help?” Questioned Phoenix, leaning forward like a police interrogator.

“Because you’re the only one who knows about my…thing!” Kevin explained.

“Your thing?” Said Phoenix dubiously.

“Yeah, my *thing*.”

“You mean the floaty stuff?”

“Yes! The floaty stuff! Ugh, you’re denser than a 50 pound weight.” Snapped Kevin.

Phoenix rolled her eyes. “You just found out?” She looked up and plucked the magazine out of the air. “‘The arts of the year’ wow, what an interesting edition.” Said Phoenix with a hint of sarcasm.

“Listen, all I need is a job.” Said Kevin, snatching the magazine out of Phoenix’s hands. “Can at least do that?”

Phoenix made great deal to look like she was thinking very hard. “I may know of a place.”