The Job (New York City Bad Boy Romance #2)

by Claire Adams

  “That,” she says, “it was.”

  And with that, she pats me on the chest and sits up.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “I need some water,” she answers. “Do you want any?”

  “I’ll come with you,” I tell her and sit up on the other half of the bed.

  I put my pants back on, but don’t bother with anything else.

  Jessica takes a bathrobe out of the closet and wraps herself inside it, pulling the flaps closed around her amazing naked body. She’s a fucking goddess.

  “Are we okay?” I ask.

  “I don’t know,” she says. “After what just happened, it’s pretty hard to say no to that question.”

  My knee-jerk thought is to say something about how sex fixes everything, but luckily I’m nowhere near that drunk and nowhere near that stupid.

  We walk from the bedroom back to the kitchen where Jessica bends down to pick up her shirt and her bra.

  “I do think we should have the talk,” she says, “but let’s not do it tonight. I don’t know about you, but I could sleep for days right now.”

  “All right,” I tell her. “We can talk in the morning.”

  “That’s not going to work,” she says. “I’m going to sleep as long as I can, and I’m pretty sure that’s only going to leave us enough time to get showered and ready for the day.”

  “All right,” I tell her, “what about lunch?”

  “No, I think it might be a good team-building exercise if we all go out to lunch together: You, me and Cheryl.”

  “All right,” I snicker. “Just let me know when you’re ready to talk and we’ll talk.”

  “That’s what I like to hear,” she says and gives me a peck on the lips before opening her cupboard and grabbing two glasses.

  She fills one and hands it to me, and I drink it down before hers is filled.

  “Someone’s thirsty,” she says.

  “Yeah,” I answer and take a breath, setting the empty glass in the sink.

  “Did you know this was going to happen tonight?” she asks.

  “No,” I tell her. “I’m glad that it did, though.”

  “Good answer,” she says. “On that note, I’m going to bed. There’s a blanket on the back of the couch.”

  “I can’t just sleep with you?” I ask.

  “I’m not used to having someone else in the bed with me,” she says. “With the early morning, I really need my sleep if I’m going to be a receptive vessel for all of your hidden knowledge tomorrow.”

  “Fair enough,” I tell her, though I am disappointed.

  The feeling of her in my arms was one of the most amazing sensations of my life.

  She makes her way back down the hall toward her bedroom and I decide to refill my glass before settling in on the couch.

  After making a quick stop at the restroom, I go back to the living room and prepare my makeshift bed for the night.

  I’m asleep before my head hits the couch cushion.

  * * *

  The next thing I know, I can’t breathe and I jerk my head back against an unseen force pinching my nose shut.

  “Morning, sunshine,” Jessica says. “I’m sorry about the rude awakening, but it’s about the quickest way to get someone from dreamland to full awareness and we’re already running late.”

  “What time is it?” I ask.

  “It’s almost seven-thirty,” she answers. “I told Cheryl we’d meet her at the store by eight. Now up and at ‘em.”

  Okay, I like this woman, but we’re going to have to have a talk about acceptable and unacceptable ways to wake each other up in the morning.

  I sit up and stretch as Jessica makes her way toward the bathroom.

  “If you want to shower,” she calls, “you’re probably going to want to make it quick. I used up most of the hot water.”

  She’d mentioned that it’s been a while since she’s been in a relationship, but I had no idea…

  I quickly make my way into the bathroom and turn on the water. Putting my hand under the spray, I adjust the cold water all the way down until only the hot water faucet is on and there’s precious little warmth left in it.

  My shower is quick to the point of almost being superhuman, but before my feet are back on the bathroom floor, Jessica is already hurrying me up again.

  “Come on,” she says, “I don’t want to set a bad example for my new manager.”

  I wonder if now would be a good time to ask her whether I’m getting paid for my consultation, not to mention the less than hospitable conditions under which I’m already working.

  I dry myself quickly, mostly just to get the blood running back to my extremities, and I find my clothes neatly folded on the bathroom counter.

  Dressed now, I come out of the bathroom and find Jessica standing by the door.

  “Would you mind driving?” she asks.

  “Not a problem,” I tell her and she tosses me her keys.

  At some point, I’m going to have to get back to Alec’s and pick up my truck, but that can wait.

  I drive, although you wouldn’t know it by all the input I’m receiving on the way. While I do manage to get us from her place to the store with five minutes to spare, Jessica still insists on speed walking from the parking lot to the front of the store.

  Cheryl’s walking up just as we are and Jessica increases her speed even further to meet her.

  “Good morning,” Jessica says. “I hope you don’t mind, but I brought a friend to kind of help us both out today.”

  “I don’t mind at all,” Cheryl answers, looking at me in a way that’s sure to make this entire experience unbelievably awkward.

  “It’s nice to see you again,” I tell her and reach out to shake her hand.

  She looks down at the gesture and turns back to Jessica.

  “So,” Cheryl says, “you wanted me to remind you to get me a key. Did you remember?”

  “Got one right here,” Jessica says and searches through her purse for a protracted amount of time. Finally finding the key, she hands it over to her employee and asks, “Why don’t you open up the store? Once we’re in, I’ll show you how to disarm the alarm.”

  “Great,” Cheryl says and we’re off and running.

  Once we’re inside and the alarm is safely in the off setting, Jessica turns to me, saying, “Where should we start?”

  “Well,” I tell her, “I think it’s a good idea to first outline your new manager’s new role and then, if there are any questions, we can address those.”

  Jessica nods and starts telling Cheryl what’s to be expected of her and it’s alternately too much and not enough. It’ll take a little bit of work to get it tweaked just right, but none of what Jessica talks about is too far in either direction.

  Cheryl asks some questions, and when Jessica doesn’t have the answers herself, I help in whatever way I can to get them both on the same page.

  The process is a little awkward, but I can appreciate that Jessica’s new to this and Cheryl seems to be willing to listen and learn.

  It takes a few hours to go over everything on Jessica’s agenda. Once that’s over, she turns to me and asks if I have any further suggestions.

  “It might not be a bad idea to do some roleplaying,” I tell her. “Before I took over the company, I used to work in retail, and acting out some likely scenarios was a really great help when I became a manager.”

  “Great,” Jessica says, clapping her hands together, and I want to tell her to relax a bit, but I’m not going to do that in front of her employee.

  “Where do we start?” Cheryl asks.

  I suggest a scenario where Jessica is the cashier and I’m a customer with a dispute.

  We do a quick run where Cheryl tries to solve the situation without any guidance and then, after giving her some direction on how she might more effectively resolve the situation, we run through it again.

  Cheryl picks everything up remarkably fast, and I’m feeling rather prou
d about suggesting such an adept woman for the promotion.

  Jessica decides that we need another run-through, though, and this time, she takes on the role of the customer.

  “Yeah,” Jessica says, miming a pair of shoes, “I got these back home and one of the straps split when I was pulling it out of the box. I need a refund.”

  “All right, I’ll be happy to help you with that,” I answer.

  Okay, so I’m no Shakespearean actor. What of it?

  The scenario goes on, but Jessica doesn’t bring up anything that is conceivably outside a cashier’s ability to handle, so not only does it go on, it goes on and on and on.

  Cheryl’s standing there, waiting for any sign that it’s time for her to jump in, but Jessica, despite going through a whole imaginary shopping bag of faulty merchandise, doesn’t provide anything to dispute.

  “That was great,” Jessica says out of nowhere.

  “I’m sorry,” Cheryl says. “I don’t know what I was supposed to do there.”

  “That’s all right,” Jessica says. “Sometimes it’s best to know when not to jump in, and I think you handled that perfectly.”

  I turn my head so Jessica doesn’t see my face contorting in numerous unspeakable ways in order to prevent the laugh that’s doing everything it can to come out of me. It’s not the perfect cover, though, because Cheryl sees what’s going on and she’s less successful hiding her own smile.

  “Did I miss something?” Jessica asks.

  I bite the inside of my cheek to give myself enough self-control to turn back with a straight face and answer, “Not at all. I, for one, am just excited to see Cheryl taking to the training so well.”

  Whether it’s my deadpan delivery or the ridiculousness of my explanation doesn’t really matter, because Cheryl is now covering her mouth, her body convulsing with stifled laughter.

  “Jessica,” I say, trying to draw attention away from Cheryl, “I was wondering if it might be a good idea to go over the nightly money drop with Cheryl.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Jessica says in a stilted professional voice.

  The distraction is, thankfully, enough for Cheryl to compose herself, but Jessica is so adorably new to this that it’s difficult for either Cheryl or me to keep a serious expression.

  It’s not Jessica’s fault. It’s really not.

  Yeah, she probably should have done this a few years ago, but this is new to her as well and the last thing I want to do is make her feel self-conscious about it.

  That said, when Jessica tells Cheryl to separate out all the cash and coinage by denomination and then goes on to give the long list of possible bills and coins—including a brief interlude regarding what to do with foreign currency—I have to turn away again to hide my smile.

  Sadly, although Jessica can’t see me, Cheryl can and the renewal of my unintentional mirth at Jessica’s micromanaging currency to the point of giving different kinds of bills nicknames by region, Cheryl lets loose with a single burst.

  She quickly covers her mouth and manages to stifle anything else and that would probably be that if Jessica hadn’t just turned toward me to see what was so funny and find me biting on my finger to keep my own reaction in check.

  “What is going on?” she asks.

  “Nothing,” I tell her. “I was just standing here and I kind of lost my balance. I’m sorry. Maybe we should move on to disputes between employees.”

  I know I’m busted because there’s a little vein in Jessica’s forehead that becomes not so little when she’s upset. It’s a vein I’ve seen before many times.

  Luckily for me, though, Jessica turns back toward Cheryl and we move on.

  As we’re talking through what kind of dispute we’re going to have, Jessica asks me, “Okay, I don’t know what’s going on, but could you do me a favor and just be a professional for a little longer?”

  “Absolutely,” I tell her.

  “Okay,” Jessica says and takes a breath. “Should we cover sexual harassment?”

  “I think we better,” I tell her.

  “Okay,” she says, “I’ll harass you.”

  Without any input from my conscious mind, my eyes go wide, my mouth curls up and I snort.

  “What?” she asks.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “It’s just the way you said that.”

  I would go on to tell her that I’m wondering if anyone’s ever actually said that combination of words before, but she’s giving me the evil eye now, so I keep that information to myself.

  “All right,” Jessica says. “We’re going to act out one of the more serious things you may face as an assistant store manager: sexual harassment. Let’s do one run where you step in in whatever way you think appropriate and we’ll go over any areas that might need some sort of attention.”

  “Sounds good,” Cheryl answers.

  “All right,” Jessica says quietly to me. “I’m going to stand here and act like I’m going through inventory. You walk by and I’ll say something to you.”

  “You got it, boss,” I answer and I take a few steps back.

  “And go,” Jessica says.

  I start walking.

  As I get close, Jessica looks up at me and then down at my crotch and says, “Hey, man. Nice dick.”

  I don’t want to laugh at her. I really don’t.

  Jessica’s trying so hard and it is so endearing. She’s new to this, and I know how important this is to her.

  That said, I just walked by her and looking at my crotch, she actually said, “Hey man. Nice dick.”

  There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s out of my hands.

  After all, I’m only human.

  I bend forward, gasping for air as I can feel my eyes filling with tears and my face going red.

  Cheryl’s hooting somewhere behind me, and I’m trying as hard as I can to get the words, “I’m sorry” out of my mouth, but it’s just not working properly.

  When I finally manage to stand upright, Jessica’s smiling, but I can tell it’s at least partially forced.

  “I am so sorry,” I tell her. “I was just not prepared for that.”

  “That’s okay,” Jessica says, still smiling, though her teeth are tightly gritted. “Let’s just see if we can stay in character and get through this.”

  “All right,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to take slow, even breaths. “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” I ask.

  That was the stupidest response I could have uttered because that only leaves her with one option of what to say next.

  “I said you’ve got a nice dick,” she says.

  My lips thin, but I manage to remain quiet.

  “I wish you wouldn’t say that—”

  Yeah, that’s about as much as I can get through before I’m doubled up again.

  The worst part, I know, is that Cheryl’s over there cracking up, too.

  No, sexual harassment is not funny and this is a very, very important thing for a new manager to know how to deal with, but holy shit.

  I right myself as quickly as possible, but the motion gives me a head rush and I have to assume a crouching position to make sure I don’t simply faint.

  Cheryl takes this as me being unable to contain myself and so she starts laughing even harder, even though I’m trying to wave her off as I stand back up again.

  I clear my throat again and I have to look past the hardly-bridled anger on Jessica’s face so I can calmly respond, “I wish you wouldn’t say that to me. It makes me feel uncomfortable and I’d like you to stop.”

  “Oh, quit being such a baby,” Jessica says. “You know you can’t walk around in pants like that and not expect people to notice what you’ve got hanging between your legs.”

  I’ve managed to put a lid on my own reactions by this point, but Cheryl’s still having trouble.

  To try to diffuse the situation, or at least give Jessica something else to focus on for a moment, I lean forward and ask, “Should we have this be a situation that
she observes, or should I approach her with it as a complaint?”

  “Approach her with it as a complaint,” Jessica says, at this point just wanting the roleplay to be over.

  I feel absolutely terrible, but it’s hard not to smile as I turn to see Cheryl standing there with tears streaming down her red face as her shoulders jerk forward and back.

  “Mrs…” I start, but turn back toward Jessica as I don’t know Cheryl’s last name.

  “Masters,” Jessica whispers to me.

  “Mrs. Masters,” I start again, turning back toward Cheryl. “Something’s been going on and it’s making me very uncomfortable.”

  Cheryl takes a deep breath, but can’t quite manage to ditch the smile as she asks, “What’s going on, Mr. Dawson?”

  “It’s Jessica,” I tell her, doing everything within my power to portray an air of someone who’s really bothered by the situation as again, this is a very serious thing. “She’s been making inappropriate comments toward me. I’ve asked her to stop, but she won’t listen to me.”

  Cheryl leans toward me and asks, “When I call Jessica over to talk, am I supposed to keep you in the room as a witness, or do I talk to her alone?”

  “Personally, I’d suggest talking to her alone so the victim’s not on the spot,” I answer. “This sort of thing always requires some sort of action, whether it’s an investigation or firing the offender, so it’s good to talk to both parties alone, especially at first. Depending on how far the investigation goes, you may or may not need to have them in the same room at the same time.”

  “What do you mean ‘how far the investigation goes?’” Cheryl asks.

  “Sometimes,” I tell her, “it’s immediately apparent that the complaint has merit and, in that case, it may be appropriate to simply fire the offender on the spot. In other cases, it might not be so clear-cut, but you always, always investigate and if you have any trouble getting to the bottom of the situation, don’t be afraid to talk to Jessica—I mean as your store manager, not as her role in this scenario—if you’re not sure how to approach it. With some kinds of harassment, you’ll even need to call the police.”

  We go on for a few more minutes until all of Cheryl’s questions are answered, and then we get back into character.