by Nicole Casey
“Fine,” she grunted. “People are starting to talk about you, Julian.”
“That’s nice,” I replied, stifling a yawn of boredom. “I’m glad I make for good subject matter.”
I reached for the espresso compressor and ground some beans down. I hoped the noise bothered her.
“It won’t be good subject matter when our company takes a hit, Julian.”
“Our company?” I echoed in disbelief. She just didn’t give up, did she? Never had there been a breath of discussion that Eloise would be involved with Bryant. She was a Sinclair, not a Bryant. I wonder what it was going to take to drive that home.
Probably a two by four.
“Julian, I’ve been hearing very disturbing rumors about you,” she continued, sighing. “Okay, Eloise, I’ll bite. What rumors?”
“People think you’re gay, Julian.”
I began to laugh, the noise starting in the pit of my belly and flowing upward to escape in amused bursts through my mouth. I had never heard such a ridiculous assessment in my entire life. There was no one in the world who could possibly believe that I, Julian Andrew Bryant, was a homosexual male.
Not that I cared how people chose to live their lives and it wasn’t an insult to my masculinity. How could it be? I knew who I was and I loved the female form more than any man I knew. While it tickled me that someone might spark that rumor, I knew there was no validity to it. I had no doubt that my step-sister was talking out of her ass but the amused glee forced me to press her for more details.
“Where did you read this? Is my gay love nest in the National Enquirer?” I snickered. “Oh, wait, who is my lover? Ryan Gosling? Please tell me it’s Ryan Gosling?”
I was probably getting too much enjoyment out of the idea but it was truly the first I’d ever heard anything like that and it had been a long while since I’d giggled like a kid.
“People are talking, Julian. You can mock me all you want but you haven’t had a girlfriend in years. They’re calling you a confirmed bachelor now which is code for—”
“Eloise,” I snapped, my good mood evaporating as I realized she meant whatever she was saying. “Even if this is something that’s happening, who gives a shit? It’s not true and even if it was, this is 2018. Being gay is hardly the scandal of the century.”
“Are you gay? You can tell me. I love you and I will always be here for you—"
“Oh my God! I’m hanging up now.”
“No! Wait! Listen to me,” she urged. “It’s not a big deal what people think in the big cities…I guess although I think you’re being a little too liberal minded in my opinion. Even so, think about how many properties we hold in the Bible Belt. Those folks aren’t apt to be as forgiving about something like this. It’s all about appearances, Julian. Think about the company. People have boycotted business for less than a gay CEO.”
I wished she would stop insinuating that Bryant Land Holdings belonged to her also but that was a matter for another time. It dawned on me that her talking like that bothered me more than the apparent rumors about my sexuality.
“Eloise, I am not gay,” I said flatly, no longer a fan of the conversation. “And I think you’re blowing this out of proportion.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” she replied but there was no conviction in her voice. “But even if I am, what harm will it do to meet with Genevieve?”
I already hated her friend because I saw how the conversation had gone full circle now.
I’d been taken by Eloise’s double talking and landed back where she wanted me.
Genevieve.
“Jule?”
“I’ll meet your insipid friend,” I growled, eager to get off the phone with her. Suddenly, Eloise’s words had filled me with doubts. She was right—like any business, the image of the CEO was everything. I was going to have to talk with the head of PR and Marketing to get a handle on how serious an issue I might have before me.
Gay. Seriously? Of all the dumb ass rumors to have spread about me, that was the last one I was expecting.
But, that was big business after all. I had learned a long time ago to expect the unexpected.
“Gen is lovely,” Eloise chirped. “You two will hit it off, you’ll see. And in the end, everyone wins.”
I found myself staring at the phone, wondering what my step-sister had to gain from any of this. What did she care if there was gossip about me? No matter how she spun it, the company genuinely had no bearing on her life. There was something else going on there, something playing in the back of her mind.
I knew Eloise Sinclair didn’t do anything without a benefit to herself.
2
Kennedy
“Have you ever tried this?” the lady with the pinched, quavering voice asked and I shook my head. I had a hard time believing she could see the items at all. It was the fourth time she had asked me about a product as if my lowly opinion on whatever garbage can she selected was the end all and be all to her choice that day. She’d already monopolized me for twenty minutes and I eyed my cart longingly. I’d never wanted to put away stock so badly in my life but I could see she needed to be walked through her purchase with kid gloves. Her name was Sue and she came into the store about once a week. Most of the other employees avoided her but I took pity on her sad, elderly heart.
“I’ve heard good things about that one,” I offered even though I was lying through my teeth. I mean really, who gave feedback on kitchen garbage cans?
“Oh yeah?” Her voice was grating on my nerves and I was reminded of something but before I could grab the elusive thought, it was gone.
“Okay!” she decided cheerfully, reaching for it with frail arms. Instantly, I stepped forward to grab it for her. She had to be pushing eighty and the last thing I wanted was an elderly woman breaking a hip on aisle four.
“I’ll get that for you,” I told her quickly. “Do you have other items to buy?”
“Oh…”
She stared at me with rheumy red eyes and I could read the confusion in them. Again, my heart cracked for her. She was puzzled, maybe even disoriented.
“Maybe…?”
“I’ll bring this up to the cashier and when you’re done shopping, you can just go there, all right, ma’am?”
A weak but grateful smile appeared on her face and she nodded.
“Thank you, sweetie. You’re so kind and helpful. What’s your name?”
She was staring right at my nametag but I doubted very much that she could read the small print with her ancient eyes.
“Kennedy, ma’am.”
“Oh. That’s a good, strong name,” she said, nodding affirmatively. “You’re going to be very successful.”
I wanted to snicker dubiously but I knew she was being nice. It was hard to envision going places with two minimum wage jobs.
“Have a good day, ma’am.”
I turned back to my cart filled with stock and Belle poked her head around the corner, rolling her brown eyes dramatically.
“You got suckered in by Sue, huh?”
“It was fine,” I replied and I meant it. The old lady was nothing compared to some of the jackasses I’d tended to in the big box store where I’d worked for almost five years. At least Sue wasn’t drunk, trying to steal or grabbing my ass. I’d take Sue any day of the week.
“You’ve got the patience of a saint,” Belle insisted. “I literally run in the other direction when I see her coming. I bet you wish you were back in Vegas right now, dontcha?”
That was the absolute last place I ever wanted to go again but I didn’t tell my co-worker that. In her mind, winning that contest on CKOY was a dream come true. I’d won a trip for two and she’d hinted wildly that she wanted to be my plus one but I hadn’t taken anyone. The idea had been for me to escape the life I knew in Indiana, if only for four days.
And what a four days it was.
I blushed as I remembered. Or at least tried to remember. I had started drinking on the plane the morning I left. There h
ad been snatches of casinos and hotels, loud music and a man…I think there had been a man.
In my mind’s eye, he was tall enough that I had to cock my head back to look up at his face. The vivid aqua eyes had a hypnotic but dream-like quality to them as if he was somewhere else and his hair had almost been as dark as mine but cut stylishly short and swept back against a chiseled face.
Had he taken me shopping? Out for lobster?
Probably not. I’d probably dreamt the entire thing because when I came to on the third day, I was at Circus Circus, alone and without a modicum of self-respect. It was hard to feel prideful with your face pressed to the carpet of your hotel room, your legs twisted beneath you as if you’d fallen and decided to stay there. I’d been on a bender and I didn’t remember a damned thing.
I spent the fourth day in Vegas nursing my insane hangover in my room, trying to piece together where I’d been and what I’d done.
Even though I’d been home for a week, I couldn’t shake the feeling that some picture of me would pop up on the internet, dancing down the strip in a coconut bra or something equally ridiculous. But so far, whatever trouble I’d found myself in over those three days had not come to surface and I wasn’t sure if I was happy or worried about that.
Everyone needs to let loose sometimes, I reminded myself. You’re twenty-five years old and deserve a break from the mundane. Who cares what you did? You’re never going to get or seize an opportunity like that again.
“You haven’t said much about your trip,” Belle complained and I could see her desire to live vicariously through me. I wished I had the imagination to give her a good story but all I could do was shrug.
“Did you see any shows? Did you go to Caesar’s Palace?”
I shook my head in the negative to her questions.
“There’s not much to tell,” I replied truthfully. “It went by very quickly.”
At least those were the facts.
“I think we— “she stopped talking abruptly and turned her head away from me. Instantly I knew our manager had wandered down the aisle. Belle was a sorceress at disappearing when Christine appeared. One day, I vowed to make her tell me her secrets because it seemed like my manager only appeared when I was exactly in the middle of doing something.
“Haven’t you had enough time off?” Christine demanded, scowling at me. “I would think you would be grateful your job was still here for you when you came back from your Vegas vacation.”
The jealousy in her tone was almost tangible.
Everyone wants to get out of Cedarside, I thought. But we’re all stuck here in our own way.
Christine had been my manager since I started and in that time had given birth to three children, adding to the two she’d had before I’d known her. Her common-law husband was a long-distance trucker who was apparently only home long enough to get her pregnant before heading out again.
It didn’t take a psychologist to figure out that Christine was miserable and I tried to take that into account when she glared at me with those porcine eyes, ready to write me up for no reason. Or at least threaten to write me up. I don’t think she ever really had in my entire employment.
She was a bit of a bully, demanding respect because she deemed herself an authority figure but no one much saw her as anything but a pain and hard ass.
“I am very grateful my job is still here,” I assured her. “I was just helping a customer and I’m going to finish stocking before clocking out.”
“You’re not getting paid extra if it takes you longer,” Christine spat as if I had begged her for overtime.
“I know,” I said quietly. Sometimes I wondered if she was trying to instigate a war with me just to keep her life interesting.
Or maybe just so she would have an excuse to fire me. Perhaps she knew how badly I needed that job and liked to make me work for it but exerting what little power she had. Whatever the reason, I didn’t want to rock the boat. And Christine wasn’t that bad…
Christine grunted and spun to leave me to my work. I had forty-five minutes until my shift was over and I knew I could get the work done—provided Sue didn’t come around looking for more help.
“She’s such a miserable cow,” Belle muttered, sticking her head around the aisle. She hadn’t gone far apparently.
“We’re all miserable in our own way,” I said lightly and Belle snickered.
“You’re a poet, Ken. Want to come to karaoke tonight?”
I shook my dark hair.
“I’m working,” I told her. “Maybe next time.”
“You say that every time!”
“I’m always working!”
There were truths in that. Yes, I did work seven days a week. Some days I worked both jobs or split shifts but if I wanted to maintain my car payment and rent, I didn’t have much of a choice.
But I also despised karaoke. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than getting on stage in front of a bunch of strangers who were judging your singing. And people paid money to do this!
“Maybe I’ll come by the bar after and keep you company.”
I glanced up at Belle and smiled.
“That would be good.”
Belle waved and skipped away from me, presumably to get back to work but who could really say. She might have been doing her social rounds for all I knew. The girl worked less than anyone I knew.
I moved my eyes back to the shelves and continued my work. I’d only have two hours between shifts and I was looking forward to running home and having a shower before heading out to work again although I did bring my uniform with me to the store in case I had to stay late. That night really didn’t want to be at the store any longer than I had to be, especially if I wasn’t getting paid the extra time.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sue shuffling by with her cart, looking lost and I paused, debating whether to engage her. It would undoubtedly take another twenty minutes to orient the old woman but I couldn’t in good conscience watch her amble around without direction.
“Ma’am, do you need any more help?” I called to her. I hoped Belle wasn’t in earshot. I’d never hear the end of it for volunteering my time.
Sue looked around as if she thought God was speaking to her from above and I suppressed a sigh and walked toward her. Gently, I placed a hand on her arm and she jerked as if I’d burned her.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Oh. No, no, dear. I’m looking for the kitchen garbage cans. I need a kitchen garbage can. Do you know where I can find one?”
I pursed my lips together and offered her a smile.
“You already selected one, ma’am. I put it at the register for you already. Would you like me to show you where it is?”
Consternation filled her face and I was immediately struck with sympathy for her. Once upon a time, she probably held a job, raised a family, maybe even owned a house. Now she was wandering through a store, relying on strangers for help.
And some of those strangers are ignoring her even. God, is this the life I have to look forward to?
I seemed to be headed in that direction.
“Are you sure?” Sue asked suspiciously. “I don’t remember you getting me a garbage can. Are you sure?”
“Yes ma’am. Let me show you.”
Reluctantly, she allowed me to lead her toward the front of the store and I pointed at the register where I’d left her can. Her eyes narrowed.
“I don’t like that one,” she told me decisively. “I want another one.”
I heard a chuckle behind me but I didn’t need to turn around to know it was Belle.
“Of course,” I told her. “Let’s find you one you prefer.”
We made our way back to the aisle and I glanced covertly at my watch. Something told me that I was not going to have a chance to go home between shifts. I’d have to go right from the store to the bar that night.
Nothing new there, I thought grimly. Just another day in the life of the bottom 99%.
It was almost three a.m. when I stumbled into my three storey walk-up downtown. My legs felt like rubber and when I finally unlocked both deadbolts and fell inside the apartment, I collapsed onto the worn futon I used as a couch in a heap.
The night had been unusually busy and Belle had stopped by as promised but she had caused me more grief than companionship, thanks to the pre-drinks she’d had at karaoke.
In between me running out drink orders and tending bar, I was forced to listen to Belle gripe about everything from her parents to our work. She even managed to throw some shade on her current boyfriend and by last call, I was sure that my exhaustion was more emotional than it was physical.
I didn’t have a lot in common with Belle after all. She still lived at home, worked at the store for extra cash but her parents paid for everything. She had a boyfriend. She had everything I could probably have ever wanted in the world and yet she still complained. It made my head hurt.
Note to self: next time Belle offers to come by, make up an excuse to keep her away.
I closed my eyes without effort, the lids magnetized to one another in my fatigue. Blissfully, I didn’t work until noon the following day so at least I’d be permitted some sleep to recoup some of my energy.
But instead of the warm cloak of slumber encasing me, the man from Vegas popped into my mind with blinding clarity.
From behind my closed lids, I could make out every feature of his devastatingly handsome face, the glimmer of his sea-colored eyes, the upturn of his nose. There was something hauntingly familiar about that fine jaw and broad forehead but nothing I could glean in my exhausted state.
He’s probably a movie star or musician, I realized and humiliation crept through me at the realization that I was having some childish fantasy that I had mixed into reality. But even with the embarrassment, I couldn’t deny the surge of heat which pulsated through me and I shifted slightly, my eyes still closed but so I lay on my back. I hadn’t even bothered to kick off my shoes but that seemed decidedly less important than addressing the warmth between my legs.
Flashes danced through my mind. The taste of champagne on moist lips intertwined with the scent of musky aftershave flooded me and my fingers rubbed on the outside of my panties. A tooth found my lower lip, my forearm tensing as more memories sifted through the holes of that trip.
