Page 12
Way to curl my toes before noon, Saldana.
I type back, you’ll be good and hungry by Friday night.
He must’ve gotten busy at work because he doesn’t reply until after I’m at the mall. If I last that long.
I’m smiling up until the point where I reach Pretzel Pirate…and find Mark already behind the stand. He’s frowning at me. “You’re two minutes late. ”
Vacation has not improved his temper. I want to protest that I’ll still have plenty of time to open because it’s not like it takes a full hour to turn on the machines, get the pretzels going, and put cash in the register. But men like Mark are petty dictators; that would only piss him off more. So I mumble an apology. And the day only gets worse from there.
Mark picks on me all damn day, bitching about every little thing. I’m starting to understand why he can’t keep employees. My annoyance builds to the point that Jesse actually texts me around four to ask, you all right?
Fine. Just pissed. My boss is an asshole.
Somehow I finish my shift, but the next day is more of the same. By two, I’ve had enough. “This is bullshit,” I say, interrupting his lecture. “I did a great job while you were gone. I deposited all the money, balanced the cash drawer, handled all of the setup and break down. And now I’m done. ”
“You can’t just walk off the job!”
“Watch me, fuckhead. I’ll drop off these stupid uniforms tomorrow. ”
Earlier, I saw a Help Wanted sign in a clothing store that sells really cool merchandise: funky graphic tees, studded wristlets and belts, earrings, skinny jeans, that kind of thing. The workers are all around my age; most have dyed hair or piercings and tattoos, also. If I could get a job there, it would be leaps and bounds better than Pretzel Pirate. I mean, it would still be customer service, but maybe I could earn back a fraction of my lost dignity. I’m not applying dressed like this, though. Presentation matters in a shop like that, so I’ll put in an application tomorrow when I return these stupid polyester pirate suits.
Grumpy, I take the bus home. Maria’s not off work yet, so I throw myself down on the couch and watch Netflix. Around six, I fix myself some food and go back to watching feel-good movies. Half an hour later, somebody knocks at the door. Cautiously, I peer out the peephole and spot Jesse. It’s only Tuesday, and he told me he’d probably be busy until Friday. He holds up a carton of ice cream.
“You had a bad day,” he says. “So I brought the chocolate. ”
“Best boyfriend ever. ”
“Can I come in?”
“Sure. ” I step back to let him into the apartment.
He smirks when he notices I’m watching Iron Man. “Most girls would be watching chick flicks. ”
“Did you just lump me in with all the other estrogen bearers? For your sake, I hope that you did not. ”
“No offense intended. Tell me what happened?” He pulls me into his arms, after I get a spoon.
And between bites of ice cream, I lay out my day. “So now I’m unemployed. ”
“Not for long, I’m sure. If you need cash—”
“Stop right there. Taking money from the guy I’m sleeping with is beyond skeevy, and it will never, ever happen. ”
“I see your point. ” Before he can say more, his cell rings. Jesse pushes to his feet, listens, and then sighs. “Yeah. I hear you. I’ll be there in twenty minutes. ”
“Work?” I guess.
“Yeah, sorry. I thought things had settled, but it seems not. ”
“Everything all right?”
He hesitates, then shakes his head. “If I could say more, I would. ”
I remember he mentioned there was some kind of scandal with the partner he had before Stella, and he’s still dealing with the fallout. “I get it. Thanks for stopping by to cheer me up. And thanks for the ice cream. ”
He draws me up into his arms and kisses me until I’m actually dizzy. “I hate it when you’re sad. See you Friday. ”
When Maria gets home an hour later, I’ve eaten most of the chocolate ice cream. I regret nothing. I don’t mention that I’m now sans income; she might fret. We watch a little TV, then I head to my room to pick out an outfit for the job I intend to snag tomorrow. The store is a better fit for me, similar to Hot Topic but cooler.
At eleven, Jesse rings my cell. I expected he might text. A voice call seems special, fancier somehow, mostly because people don’t bother anymore. I’m snuggled into bed, wearing the jammies I took to his place. Smiling, I tuck the phone against my ear.
“Feeling better?” he asks.
“You know the answer. ”
“But it’s polite to ask. ”
“Did you take care of things at work?”
“More or less. I put a patch on the situation anyway. ” His voice drops low. “Wish you were here, Shan. How’s it possible that I already have a hard time sleeping alone?”
That fast, I’m turned on. He only needs to drawl the word hard and I’m like, yes, green light, let’s go. The chemistry between us has always been incendiary; he just didn’t want to admit it. I suspect he gets that flash of heat, but my breathing quickens, too. I can’t hide anything from him.
“Oh, honey. Really?” It’s like he can’t believe that’s all it takes.
“I think I’d better get off the phone now. ”
“No,” he murmurs. “Stay. ”
It’s pretty clear what he’s asking, and I don’t really know how to do this, but I’m willing to try. In the end, it’s mostly sounds and sighs while we both work, slow at first, then faster, until I hear him moaning my name, and then I’m gone, too. Gradually my heart rate slows.
“Wow,” I whisper. “I think I’ll keep you. ”
“Please do. ” And I hear his need, his uncertainty. This is his gift to me.
I’ll cherish it always.
Twelve
The next day, I wake up feeling off since strange dreams chased me all night long. Shaking that lethargy, I don my coolest outfit: striped stockings, combat boots, faux-leather mini, black lace peekaboo blouse with a corset vest over the top. I study myself in the mirror, then add chunky, funky jewelry. I take my time with my makeup. Fortunately, Maria goes to work earlier, or she’d wonder why I’m not a pirate today. Last thing, I bag up those fucking uniforms.
I take the bus and get to the mall by ten. Mark isn’t even at the stand yet. Excellent. I don’t want to see that asshole. I drop my stuff off behind the counter and hurry through the food court. Unfortunately, I run into Felix on the way. He seems really happy to see me.
“Hey, Shan, how’s it going? Damn. You’re looking hot today. ”
“Thanks. ” I feel like saying, dude, I have a boyfriend. But even if I didn’t, this is not on. It will never be on.
Yet that would be like kicking a puppy. So I listen to his chatter with a faint air of impatience. “Look, it’s good to see you, but I have a job interview. ”
“Oh. ” He seems sad to hear that I’m leaving our food stall hell. “I won’t keep you, then. ”
His downcast look goads me into adding, “But I’ll stop by on my way out, okay? We can talk more then. ”
“Sounds great. I’ll spot you a free Coke. ”
Be still my heart.
“Thanks,” I say aloud.
Steeling my nerves, I stride toward Toxic, the store where I want to work. The sign’s still posted, so they haven’t filled the position yet. Go big or go home, right? So I pull the Help Wanted notice from the window and take it inside with me.
I set it on the counter. The guy behind the register is hot, but not my type. He’s the skinny, emo, guyliner sort, one who fits with me in theory. I guarantee he’s nowhere near Jesse Saldana’s level, however. This dude is the reason girls eat chocolate ice cream; he sure as shit doesn’t bring it to them.
“Hire me,” I say.
He skims me up and down, seeming to decide I’ve got the right look. “You have
to fill out an application first. ”
“Give it to me, then. ” I have to be careful not to let the attitude cross the line into bitch territory. I think I’m standing right on the border.
He does, and I get out my pen. Hm. Chuch and Eva as personal references. I add Jesse too, though it’s probably immoral to use your boyfriend in that respect. The rest of the app doesn’t take long since I’ve had exactly one job and I quit it yesterday. Once I’m done, the guy skims my information.
“Pretzel Pirate, huh? I can see why you’d rather work here. ”
“Just so you know, Mark probably won’t have good things to say about me. But I’m a hard worker for anyone who’s not a complete asshole. ” Hard to say if that’s too much honesty.
Then the guy smiles. “Understood. I’m Nick, the assistant manager, so you’ll need to meet Kim, too. She’s in the back. ”
I end up having an impromptu interview with both of them, so it turns out I didn’t lie to Felix after all. When I leave Toxic, I have a fucking job. I start tomorrow. Thirty hours a week to begin with, but the pay’s a little better. I can still afford to cover my bills, at least, and I get to wear my own clothes. That was one thing Kim stressed; we need to look the part, making people want to be cool like us.
Keeping my promise, I head back to the food court. It’s close to noon, so a few people are scattered at the tables, eating an early lunch. Felix waves at me as I amble toward him. His stand has no line, so he pours me a drink, then hands it over without his coworker noticing. It’s sweet, but I hope he doesn’t get in trouble.
“I was wondering…”
Shit, here we go. I have to shut him down politely. “Yeah?”
“I have a break coming up…and there’s a car for sale in the parking lot. I was wondering if you’d look at it with me. ”
Huh. That isn’t what I thought he’d ask at all. “Do I look like a vehicular expert to you?”
“No, that’s not why I want your opinion. I thought you could tell me if it’s something girls would think is—”
“Oh. You want me to gauge its chick appeal?” Poor kid. He’s so clueless.
Felix nods. “If you have time?”
“Absolutely. You can walk with me out to the bus stop. I’ll rate it for you. ”
“Thanks. I don’t have a lot of friends who are girls. ”
It’s been a good day. Not only did I get an awesome new job, I also avoided crushing Felix’s dreams. Maybe he’s not interested in me after all. I’m happy to be his friend, as long as he’s not secretly angling for more. That never ends well.
“Come on. ” I beckon.
Once he calls that he’s taking a break, Felix comes around the counter and walks with me to the exit. “I think the car’s pretty sweet, but my sister tells me I have no idea what’s cool. ”
“All sisters say that. ” Or so I imagine, anyway. I have no siblings, unless my father is breeding as we speak.