Temporary Position

by Parrish, Scarlett

  “No.” I shook my head, wondering when it was that my voice had risen that extra octave. “None at all.”

  “Right.” A slight smile. A quick—so quick I nearly missed it—down-up glance, and I wondered if he’d been checking me out. Or maybe he just didn’t know where to look.

  I dropped my gaze. Definitely checked him out, even though I knew I shouldn’t and—

  Dear God, Tyler, you’ll have someone’s eye out with that.

  “Well. I’d better get you on the floor.”

  “You what?”

  “The shop floor, Jess. Why? What did you think I meant?” He cleared his throat, somehow making it sound a little like laughter as well. He reached past me again, to the door handle, and I caught the faintest whisper of his cologne.

  I tried not to inhale. Too conspicuously.

  Oh, God, get me out of here. No. Let me stay.

  Chapter Four

  I insisted on doing the walkthrough alone for two reasons, one professional and one personal. Firstly, if Tyler accompanied me, every other member of staff would label me as a higher-up by association, somehow other. They’d be less likely to talk. Not that I was going to seek anyone else out, but I didn’t want my first appearance on the shop floor to be so blatantly managerial. If Retail Assistants, Supervisors and other staff were inclined to talk, it’d only happen without the boss being present. As flirtatious—no, no, as friendly—as he was, he still wore a badge proclaiming his position.

  As did I. But Tyler Johnson at my side would be more conspicuous than a lapel badge with ‘Jess Ludlow, Visual Manager’ under the Pearson’s logo.

  Which explained my second reason for going solo on this walkthrough. Tyler Johnson at my side would render me incapable of looking at shelving, displays, stock levels and layouts with any degree of objectivity or ability to plan and design. He’d stop me wanting to look at anything other than Tyler Johnson.

  For at least three months we’d be working in the same store. It’d take all my professional organisational skills and then some to ensure we seldom worked together. Oh, sometimes there would be managers’ meetings, but depending on rotas and schedules and availability, four or five others would be present. All I had to do was spend twelve weeks trying not to be alone with Tyler. Or Sebastian.

  Simple.

  Taking a deep breath, I pushed through the swing doors leading to the shop floor—its second floor, at least—and immediately switched on. Pearson’s was a three-level, multi-department playground and, for the foreseeable future, it was mine to rearrange.

  When I was a kid, my younger sister Jo—whose birth had proven our parents really liked J-names—and I had shared a dollhouse given to us by Granddad Ludlow. Jo had been the one who gave the dolls names and acted out pre-school soap operas with them, adopting gruff or squeaky voices depending on whether the character was male or female. She had become a journalist during her daylight hours and ran the karaoke night at our local pub at weekends. So, still making up shit and playing with voices for a living.

  I had been the one who endlessly rearranged furniture and fretted over the layout. I even tried repainting the dollhouse’s walls in watercolour but Jo threw a tantrum, ran crying to Mummy and anyway, the colour didn’t take. Not enough to stick, but just enough to stain the disgusting wallpaper that would never have matched any of the furniture or flooring anyway.

  Not difficult to see why I ended up in the job I had. It was either that or interior decorating and I was immodest enough to want to show off the fruits of my labours. Sure, I could decorate a private home—and had, at my own sister’s request—but one or two visitors now and again wasn’t a large enough audience.

  Home was too crowded—the department, not the place where I lived. Tidy but for a few unfolded towels. Damn customers never put back what they’d touched and rejected. And the store had only just opened. I blamed the blue-rinse brigade who seemed to have nothing better to do than wander around shops all day, messing up my merchandise.

  There. Already thinking of it as mine.

  There wasn’t all that much space between the safety barrier at the atrium where the escalators were and a floor display in the same department. That would have to be changed, especially if it blocked foot traffic to the checkouts. And those bloody double prams which were the bane of my life, let alone shoppers’. Most mothers seemed to think they had right of way to all parts of the store and, not only that, but the God-given right to run over people’s feet as well. Well, that would be something I could worry about later when the store filled up. For now, custom was limited to grannies fondling the soft furnishings and exclaiming over the cost of household goods.

  It was mindless work. My first day there required only first impressions and that was why I’d declined to visit the store before starting there. I wanted to see everything anew.

  Such reasoning brought me back to the two things—people—I’d seen before, and the relief at having got one meeting dealt with. Tyler down, Sebastian to go.

  Womenswear was by far the largest department in the store, just like in any other branch, and in this one took up the entirety of the first floor. There wasn’t much wrong with it that I could see—I guessed Tyler and the relevant manager focused on this department above all others. He’d said takings were highest here, after all. Maybe some tidying up around the gifts and accessories section but aside from that all was good.

  There had to be some unspecified symbolism in the fact I needed to take the final escalator to the ground floor where Sebastian worked. I avoided him by making the rounds of Health and Beauty first. Naturally, the entire department was immaculate. It wouldn’t have done for anyone whose entire job was based on appearances to have a hair out of place, nor to have shelving and display units that were anything less than pristine.

  Fucker’s probably waiting for me, I thought with uncharacteristic aggression. Truthfully, I wasn’t angry or genuinely pissed off with him. Just made edgy by the circumstances. That unwritten rule about not getting involved with someone you worked with, or would likely end up working with, went double in this instance.

  No, I wasn’t involved with either of them, but I’d have liked to have been.

  Which one? Either. Both.

  I was greedy like that. I’d kissed both, after all, and they’d not seemed at all shaken by that. Almost as if they’d silently dared me to admit a woman could fancy two men at the same time and see nothing wrong with it.

  Shaking my head, either in amusement at my own thoughts or in an attempt to rid myself of them, I turned the corner into the final department of my walkthrough and Sebastian and Tyler smirked at the ‘oh fuck’ faltering in my step. No one else would have noticed, or if they had would have put it down to my heel catching on something, maybe a temporary lapse of memory and forgetting what I was about to do. Like walking into another room at home and wondering, What the hell was I here for?

  Tyler must have taken the customer elevator back down to the ground floor or sneaked past and ridden the escalators while my back was turned speaking to a member of staff.

  Nice one, Johnson. Hit me with the double whammy of being confronted by you and Seb. Both of you at once.

  And that put all sorts of images in my mind that were inappropriate for the workplace.

  Well, I decided, holding my course, can’t back out now or it’ll look like I’m running away.

  And I had to acknowledge him some time. Better out here on the shop floor, where he couldn’t do anything.

  “Jess,” was the simple greeting Sebastian gave before he and Tyler exchanged glances. There was nothing malicious in it, no mockery, and it took me only a second to work out they were asking each other, Okay, how do you want to play this?

  “Sebastian.”

  “Call me—”

  “Call me Seb,” I interrupted.

  “Sebbe,” he corrected. He preferred the Swedish-accented diminutive, a linguistic nod to the Scandinavian half of himself.

  “
Right.” All business, I turned to Tyler. “The debit card machine in Home’s broken.”

  “What, again?” Sebastian asked. Obviously a regular occurrence, then.

  “Yeah, I know,” Tyler said. The momentary widening of his eyes betrayed his surprise at my no-nonsense attitude. “I’ve called the repair guys and they said they’ll be out ‘sometime this afternoon’. Although…” He shrugged. “Anyone’s guess. So people will just have to use cash for now, or pay at another checkout.”

  I suppressed a groan. Not Tyler’s fault, but I was damn sick of hearing ‘Meh, whenever’, from workmen. Workmen, indeed. My arse. “Well, I want it fixed now.”

  “I…” Again they exchanged looks as Tyler cleared his throat. “I have phoned…”

  “I also want your staff to learn how to fucking spell.” Immediately I looked around to check there were no customers within earshot. It looked like I was safe this time. Nerves had made me careless.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Sebastian covered his mouth, but not quickly enough to hide the smirk.

  I handed Tyler a folded piece of paper which, until now, I’d kept tucked away in my clipboard. “Someone taped this to the machine.”

  He unfolded it and read slowly, his lips twitching in amusement as ill-concealed as Sebastian’s when he reached the last word. ‘Paypoint out of order. Only cash excepted’. “Ah.”

  “Yes. Ah. I made them write out another one.”

  “You made them?” Sebastian teased.

  “Okay, technically I wrote it out, but I made them tape the new one to the machine and took that one down.”

  “First day here and already your inner dominatrix is showing herself.”

  “One of us has to know what we’re doing.”

  “Quite.” Tyler nodded, and I wondered if he’d made his way downstairs to wind me up, to run interference or simply to smooth over any awkwardness in my and Sebastian’s first encounter with each other since… Well, since the last one. “You could have just binned this, you know.”

  “I thought you’d want to see how illiterate your staff are.”

  “And to think this morning she was defending them.” Tyler’s phrasing indicated he addressed Sebastian rather than me. He shook his head slowly, tutting in what I hoped was mock disapproval. “During our private meeting this morning she lectured me on such things as staff morale, not having much autonomy over their own departments—”

  “I did not lecture you.”

  “Dare I hope I was one of those defended?” Sebastian put in.

  “I was talking about the overall look of the store, and the staff feeling able to smile and be at ease with the customers is part of that. Forcing checkout staff to stick to a script can often make them feel like they’re on a conveyor belt. Just numbers rather than people and…” I shrugged, got off my hobby horse. “Staff morale. You know. They were quite strict with all the ‘have a nice day’ nonsense at two-eight-nine until I got them to ease off. Just a little, though,” I added. “Too much informality is a bad thing. Don’t you think?” I eyed Sebastian, surprised by my own boldness. “And do you need to be defended?”

  “I’m pleading the fifth on that one.”

  “You’re not American.”

  “Damn it—she’s got me on that.”

  “Well, uh… I’ll leave you two to it. Jess, let me know your conclusions. Sebbe, later.”

  They made some form of contact, but whether it was a handshake or a fist-bump I wasn’t sure—their friendship of long standing had given them permission for informality other staff members might not get away with, probably wouldn’t even try.

  “So.” Sebastian took a deep breath. “Good to see you again.”

  “Hmm.”

  Yes, it was good to see him, but professionalism kept me from admitting it out loud. He’d said as much, but he had the ability to flirt without flirting. To carry that twinkle in his eye that said so much. The way he looked me up and down—discreetly, with nothing more than a flick of his eyes—was articulate enough. If I’d gone there, acknowledged what had passed before, I’d make an idiot of myself, so I chose not to bother.

  “Tyler suggested I accompany you.”

  “Did he now?”

  “So I could take on board your suggestions.”

  “I’ve done the rest of the store on my own.”

  “Quite. But…given our pre-existing acquaintance, perhaps he thought I, out of all the managers, would be best equipped to”—his lips quivered in a God-I-need-to-laugh, almost-smile—“take what you choose to dish out.”

  I raised my eyebrows and he gave a perfect Gallic shrug, which was surprising given his Scandinavian heritage. Maybe there was some French blood in there too that I didn’t know about.

  “Visst,” he murmured, before clicking his tongue.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Sorry. I forget sometimes and lapse.”

  I knew from previous conversations that he was half-Swedish on his mother’s side. That was where he got his blond—strawberry blond under certain lighting—hair. And his fluency in that language. From his father, he got his decidedly English surname and British passport.

  “Hmm. Well if Tyler thinks I need you to hold my hand just to get through the last part of this tour, it might help if you stuck to English.”

  “But of course. After all”—he grinned—“jag kunde ju säga nåt, och du skulle inte fatta nånting.”

  “I…you what?”

  “Shall we?” Sebastian motioned ahead of us with one hand, briefly touching the other to the small of my back. “You can tell me everything we’re doing wrong in my department.”

  “Speaking in a language I don’t understand, for one.”

  “I could say anything and you wouldn’t have a clue.”

  “Yes, that’s precisely my—”

  “No. Jag kunde ju säga nåt, och du skulle inte fatta nånting. That’s what it means—I could say anything and you wouldn’t have a clue.”

  “Very observant of you. Can we stick to English?”

  “Oh, you and your limited tongue,” he sighed, not even looking at me. A moment later he caught my eye and winked. “Som du vill. Uh…I mean, as you wish.”

  There were so many things I could have said to that—all of them in English—but I took the easy way out, got down to business. Pearson’s business.

  “I don’t like that plinth being there.” I pointed at a display of toy racing cars piled to waist-height on a wooden stand. Someone had placed it at the end of a shelf unit, and maybe I was being picky, but it didn’t look right to me. “It’d be better in the middle of the walkway. It’s wide enough.”

  “Might get in people’s way.”

  “Thereby slowing down foot traffic and forcing them to browse other merchandise.”

  “How mercenary.”

  “That’s my job.”

  “Just as well you’re here then, isn’t it? We need you.”

  I faltered, not for the first time, and drew to a halt. It took Sebastian a second to catch on, and he circled where he stood, to face me again.

  “Speaking of which,” I began. “Tyler said something earlier. That you’d both asked for me specifically.”

  “Really?”

  I wanted to tell him to stop pretending to be so innocent, but that would have meant acknowledging my mind was elsewhere, too.

  “Vi ville ha dig båda två.”

  “Will you stop that? We’ve got work to do.”

  Sebastian held up both hands in mock innocence. Had to be mock. Had to be. “We’d better get on with it, then.”

  “We? I thought I was the Visual Manager?”

  “Sure. But I should pay attention to your immediate verdict, no? Menswear will probably need the most work and rearranging, so…”

  “On my say-so? You have that much faith in my abilities?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged, like it was only natural to pay me such a huge professional compliment. “That was w
hy I told Ty you’d be good for this job. Why we both put in a good word for you. I told you—vi ville ha dig båda två.”

  “Might help if I had a clue what the hell that meant.”

  We started walking again and somehow I ended up close enough for him to nudge me with his elbow. Automatically, I slowed, though not to a stop, and he leant down to whisper in my ear, “We both wanted you.”

  Chapter Five

  The following day gave me the perfect opportunity to vent my slowly building frustration.

  “I don’t think you understand how much money we’re losing.” I gripped the phone with one hand and with the other clicked my ballpoint pen on and off. The guy on the other end of the phone hummed and hawed, made excuses and promises.

  “I already spoke to your boss earlier and he was okay with—”

  “Mr Johnson accepted your excuses. That is not the same as being okay with being forced to piss away hundreds—actually, thousands—of pounds in one day, just because you seem unable to send a workman out to fix the problem.”

  Across the desk from me, Tyler steepled his fingers and shot a glance over my shoulder at Sebastian. Then he leant back in his chair, apparently content to observe. I looked down at him, preferring to make official phone calls while standing. It made me feel more assertive.

  “For as long as you keep me waiting, I will call you every hour on the hour and half-hour until there’s a workman on his way out to fix the damn thing.”

  Behind me, Sebastian coughed. It sounded an awful lot like a splutter of amusement, too.

  “You’ve already blown us off with some excuse about being busy. Well guess what? So are we. Added to that, you’ve already proven yourselves to be unreliable by saying you’d send someone out yesterday. And guess what else? They didn’t appear.”

  Tyler ran a fingertip along his bottom lip and I watched it curve into a half-smile.

  I fancied myself as his attack-dog when it came to this phone call and, in truth, I kind of got off on showboating in front of the pair of them. Look at how assertive I am. Like their opinions mattered all that much to me.