by Claire Adams
“Are you ready back there?” she asks.
“Yep,” I tell her. “Just keep your arms to your sides, and I’m pretty sure the four of us are going to be just fine.”
“The four of—” and she gets the joke. Laughing, she says, “Okay,” and crosses her arms over her chest.
I stand with my pelvis a bit farther back than usual, but I’m ready, so I start counting, “One, two, three.”
She falls backward and, thankfully, her arms stay where they are.
I catch her and just hold her there for a minute. “See? You can do this.”
“Uh, Eric?” she says, her voice devoid of the celebratory mirth I’d been expecting.
“Yeah?” I ask.
“You’re grabbing my boobs,” she says.
Not even thinking, I let go of her entirely and she falls to the floor.
Shit.
Chapter Eleven
Steel Wool
Jessica
After I picked myself up off the floor, I couldn’t get my mind off Eric’s hands on my boobs. It was the first time in a long while a guy has touched me like that and it was…nice.
I made sure to clear my head as Eric and I went over some specifics regarding how I should approach and train the person or people I’m ready to promote. He seemed to think that I should get at least two managers right away, but I think I’ll be more comfortable if I only do one at a time.
That said, I’m not sure why I’m so nervous.
I’ve decided to promote Cheryl, mostly based off of Eric’s recommendation that she seemed to have the best overall knowledge and savvy of anyone, other than myself, of course, in the store.
She just walked in the door so I stroll out to meet her.
Cheryl has been with me for a long time, but I think I know her less than pretty much anyone else in the store. It’s not that I’ve specifically avoided her or anything; she just seems to be less chatty than everyone else.
“Cheryl, could I talk to you for a minute?” I ask as she’s making her way to the break room to drop off her purse.
“Sure,” she answers and changes course to come into my office.
“Would you mind closing the door?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says nervously.
“There’s something that I wanted to talk to you about, and I’m not quite sure how to start. This is kind of new to me,” I begin.
“Okay,” she says.
“You’ve been here at this store for a while, and I think it’s time we make a change,” I tell her.
“What do you mean?” she asks.
“Well, it’s become apparent to me that things around here need to change,” I tell her. “I don’t think the way I’ve been going about running this business has been—”
“I can work weekends,” she says.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“Holidays,” she says. “I don’t mind working overtime. You don’t even have to pay me an overtime wage. I just really need this job.”
“That’s not where I’m going with this,” I tell her. “I’m talking about fundamentally changing the way that I do business—the way we do business. You see, for such a long time, I’ve felt the need to lord over every decision, be here at every moment, and that’s not a sustainable business model.”
“I really need this job,” she says.
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
“I’ve been here since you opened up, and I think it’s pretty screwed up that you’re talking about firing me when I have given so much of my life to help this place off the ground,” she says.
Now it makes sense.
“I’m not talking about firing you, Cheryl,” I smile.
“Oh,” she says. “Well, if you’re going to cut my hours, I really wish you would have told me before now so I could look for another job to supplement my income, I—”
“I asked you in here so I could offer you a promotion,” I tell her.
“Well, you’d better just think about what you’re—I’m sorry, what?” she asks.
“I’m offering you a position as assistant store manager,” I tell her. “It’ll be an increase in responsibility across the board, but you’ll also get a pretty handsome raise. Does that sound like something you’d be interested in, Cheryl?”
She doesn’t answer.
“I’ve come to realize that, despite how much I feel the need to control every portion of this store’s operation, every day, I’m not infallible, and I sure as hell don’t know everything. What I need to do,” I explain, “is start trusting my staff. You and the others have put so much time and so much energy into this place, and I know it wouldn’t be as successful as it is without any one of you. Cheryl, you stand out from the crowd. You have a degree of insight into this place that gets people to stand up and take notice, and I want you to know that you are valued here. So, do you think you’d be interested in being my assistant store manager?”
She looks down at the ground, then back up at me.
“Yes,” she says in a quiet, shaky voice.
“Great,” I tell her. “Now, we’re going to have to help each other out here. This is new territory for me, and so I ask for your patience. That said, I’d like to go ahead and make your new position official today.”
“I’m ready,” she says.
“Great,” I tell her. “First off, I’m going to need to ask you something.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“What does an assistant store manager do?”
* * *
“You actually asked her what an assistant store manager does?” my text friend writes.
“I’m new to this,” I write back. “I’m sure there are keys involved, but how much of my daily workload do I delegate? I’m not sure what’s appropriate here.”
I’m sitting at dinner with Kristin and Jed.
I do not like Jed.
“Who are you talking to?” Kristin asks.
“Just a friend,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she says. “You mean that friend.”
“How long have we been sitting here?” Jed asks. “I feel like we’ve been waiting for our meals for a really long time. What’s taking them so long? The place isn’t that busy. I don’t see how hard it is to make three simple meals and bring it out to a table.”
“We just ordered,” I inform Jed. “It usually takes more than two minutes for a restaurant to cook something.”
“It feels like it’s been longer than that, though,” he says. “I don’t know. I’ve been so stressed lately. I think I’m getting an ulcer.”
“If anything’s going to give you an ulcer,” Kristin tells him, “it’s going to be how much you constantly worry about getting an ulcer.”
My phone beeps and I read the message, “It sounds like you might want to have that guy come back and show you the ropes. Was he helpful before?”
I write back, “He was helpful, but it kind of got a little weird last time.”
“Jay, there’s something we’d like to tell you,” Kristin says. “Actually, it’s the reason that we asked you out to dinner.”
“I know,” I tell her. “You’re still waiting for me to give you that discount you decided you were entitled to as my sister, but we’re just barely starting to recover from the months of construction in the store, and with this new deal—if you can even call it that—I’ve got with one of my main suppliers, I really don’t think I can start offering you designer products for seventy-five percent off. I could maybe do ten or something, but even that would be—”
“It’s not that,” she says, “although I do think it’s pretty sad that you can’t even give your own sister, a woman that you shared the same womb with, a silly little major discount on some clothes.”
“We’re not twins,” I tell her. “We didn’t share a womb.”
“We came out of the same vag,” she says. “Whatever. Anyway—”
My sister is something special.
My phone beeps and
I shift my attention from Kristin to the screen.
“It got weird?” he writes. “What do you mean?”
I write back, “Well, it came to light that I might have a little difficulty trusting others, so we did a little trust exercise. There were injuries.”
“You’re not even listening to me, are you?” she asks.
“How long does it take?” Jed asks nobody. “My stomach’s going to start eating itself if it hasn’t already. Oh, this is why I hate going out to eat. Nobody ever—”
“Honey,” Kristin says, “shut up. I’m trying to talk here.”
“Did you bring any antacids?” he asks. “I don’t know how I could have forgotten to bring some from home. This stress is going to kill me, I just know it.”
“Jed,” Kristin says, “shut the fuck up.”
His mouth is closed, but he’s still looking around in every direction, assumedly trying to spot the waiter who took our order less than five minutes ago.
“Jay-Jay—” Kristin starts.
“I hate that name,” I tell her. “I don’t know why you still call me that. I’ve been telling you for years that I hate it when you call me that.”
“I’m pregnant,” she says. “Jed and I are having a baby.”
After a minute of staring blankly, it occurs to me that she’s waiting for some kind of reaction.
“Wow,” I say with as much enthusiasm as I can muster. It’s not much.
I look over at Jed, who’s wiping his nose on one of the restaurant’s cloth napkins.
Yeah, that kid is going to get the shit beaten out of it.
“I know, right?” Kristin says. “I mean, we’re not like a hundred percent sure, but I haven’t had a period in like two months, and I’ve been getting really sick in the mornings, and I’m not even drinking anymore.”
“That’s fantastic,” I tell her and it’s all I can do to not jump with joy as my phone beeps.
I look down, reading, “Trust fall?”
“Yeah,” I write back. “I got it eventually, but it was a bit of a process.”
“What are you doing?” Kristin asks.
“What do you mean?” I ask back.
“I just told you that I’m pregnant—me, your one and only sister, the most important person in your world. Are you going to come over here and give me a hug or not?” she asks.
“Right,” I murmur and get out of my seat.
“Excuse me,” Jed says, hailing a passing waiter. “We’re still waiting for our entrees.”
“I’m very sorry, sir,” the waiter says. “I’ll go see what’s going on.”
“You know, it’s best not to end sentences in prepositions,” Jed says.
As I’m almost around the table and now close to the waiter, I lean toward him and promise him twenty bucks if nobody spits in my food.
The waiter smiles and walks away.
I bend down and give Kristin a hug.
“Have you been in to see the doctor yet?” I ask.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” Jed answers. “I know pretty much everything there is to know about natal care and birthing.”
That’s easily one of the most disturbing things I’ve ever heard.
“I didn’t know you went to medical school,” I tell him, standing back up, releasing the hug.
“I didn’t,” he says.
“Paramedic training?” I ask. “Mid-wifing—or would that be mid-husbandry? That doesn’t sound right.”
“No,” Jed says.
“Have you had kids?” I ask.
“No,” he answers, “but I do have five brothers and sisters.”
“Jed, we’ve talked about this,” Kristin says. “I’m going to the doctor.”
“I don’t see why,” he responds, playing with the tuft of hair beneath his bottom lip. “All you have to do is make sure you’re getting enough vitamins and try not to overexert yourself.”
“I think Kristin’s right,” I chime in, “I’m sure you’ll be a big help, but she needs a doctor to help her through the process.”
“She really doesn’t,” he says. “Medical practice is just a big racket anyway. My mom never went to the doctor and she lived a good, long, healthy life.”
“Jed, your mother was always sick,” Kristin says. “I don’t even know how tall she was because she was always bedridden with something or another.”
“Prepositions,” Jed corrects.
“Whatever,” Kristin says. “If it’s a boy, we’re thinking of naming him Percival.”
Neither Jed nor my sister appreciate the loud, albeit quick burst of laughter that escapes my lungs.
“I’m sorry,” I say, trying to force my smile down. “Why Percival?”
“It was my grandfather’s name,” Jed says. “It’s a great name with a rich history.”
“I don’t know,” I tell him. “That just seems like something you name your kids if you’re living in the eighteen hundreds. I don’t know that many Percivals walking around today.”
“That’s the problem with you people,” he starts, although what he means by “you people,” I can only guess at, “you’re always thinking that if something’s not already popular, there’s no value to it. I think a name should be picked because it’s a good name, not because everyone else’s kid has that name—and where in the hell is our meal? I must have asked that waiter to check on it about half an hour ago.”
“Three minutes,” I correct. “What are you going to name the kid if it’s a girl?”
“That’s one of the things I wanted to tell you,” Kristin says. “I know that you and I have had our ups and downs or whatever, but I really think that we’re getting past all that. I wanted to name her Jay-Jay, after you.”
And now it’s awkward.
I’ve already told her, earlier in this conversation, that I hate the moniker Jay-Jay, but this is a rather sweet act.
“Why Jay-Jay?” I ask. “I mean, I’m very flattered, but if you wanted to name her after me, why not just go with Jessica.”
“Well,” Kristin groans, motioning her head toward Jed.
“It just seems too old-world to me,” he says. “I mean, I hear the name Jessica and I think of some woman in the renaissance posing nude for Da Vinci.”
“Did Da Vinci paint a lot of nudes?” I ask.
“It just doesn’t have that modern feel to it,” Jed says.
“Whereas Percival is hot off the presses,” I snicker.
Jed glares at me, but fortunately, my phone just beeped, so I don’t have to look at him.
The message reads, “Some friends and I are having a party this weekend, and I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”
Hot blood, cold sweat.
“Are you all right?” Jed asks. “You look rather peaked. I hope it’s not that flu that’s going around town.”
“What flu?” I ask, trying to get my mind off the bombshell on my phone.
“There’s always a flu,” Kristin answers, rolling her eyes.
“You should get yourself checked out,” Jed says.
“Prepositions,” Kristin mumbles. She said it quietly, but the look on her face is one of absolute victory.
“Would you excuse me for a minute?” I ask.
“Sure,” Kristin answers. “Want me to go with you?”
“No,” I tell her. “I don’t think that’s going to be necessary.”
As I’m walking away, I can hear Jed somewhere behind, telling me to wash my hands.
A party? I don’t even know this man and already he’s asking me if I want to go to a party with him?
I guess it’s not all that outlandish. We have been talking for a while, and we do seem to get along really well.
Opening the door to the bathroom, I walk over to the sink and splash some water over my face.
I’ve been out of the game too long.
The guy didn’t ask me to marry him or bear his children. He just asked if I wanted to go to a party and I’m on the ve
rge of a panic attack about it.
My phone beeps again.
I dry my hands and look at the message.
It says, “I hope that’s not too forward, but my friend, the one that gave me your number, he’s the one that’s throwing the party. I thought it might be a nice, low-pressu”
I wait a minute for the rest of the thought.
The phone beeps and the message continues, “re way for you and I to get to know one another a little better.”
“I don’t know,” I write back and look up into the mirror to see my mascara running from washing my face. I add, “I’m not sure that I’m really ready to start something serious with anyone right now.”
“Keep it together, Jessica,” I whisper to myself.
“I’m almost done!” some woman, apparently in one of the stalls, calls out.
I just grab a paper towel and clean myself up as best I can before going back out to the restaurant.
My phone beeps.
The message says, “I’m not saying we should move in together or anything. I just thought it’d be nice to have a conversation with you face to face.”
This might not feel like such a momentous decision if it weren’t for the fact that I felt a bit of a spark with Eric in the store the other day.
We didn’t talk about it or anything, but I know he felt something, too. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, though.
“Can I bring my sister?” I write.
The only problem with taking Kristin is that I’m going to have to think of some plausible reason why Jed can’t possibly join us.
I would just go with the truth and tell Kristin that her boyfriend or whatever the hell he is to her is a whiny know-it-all and that he annoys the crap out of me, but that didn’t go over so well the last time I said something similar to her.
The phone beeps.
The message reads, “That seems only fair.”
I give myself one more look in the mirror and take a deep breath, steeling for myself for the train wreck that is dining with my sister and Jed.
Chapter Twelve
Placing Bets
Eric
