by Jacob Chance
“Yeah, he’s a player on the Terriers and he needs the job, or so he says.”
“You don’t think he does?”
“I don’t know what to think. His dad is Lawrence Lincoln…”
“I see what you mean. But don’t assume to know what it’s like to have him for a father. You’re not walking in his shoes.”
“I realize that, Dad. The other thing that makes me wonder, is Trevor has expressed interest in me. I don’t want him taking this job as a means to get to know me better.”
“That’s a pretty egotistical view to take, Grace. Why don’t you wait and see how the boy does before you judge him.”
“I know.” Now I feel bad that I’ve been assuming the worst about Trevor. Maybe his situation isn’t good. But at the same time there’s something about him that annoys me like a scratchy label in the back of my shirt. If I could remove him from my life as easily as a snip with some scissors, then I wouldn’t have to analyze the depths of my feelings for him. I might wonder what he was up to for a week or two and then the interest would naturally wane.
My dad returns to the kitchen to cook and I continue to wait on the customers. Trevor walks in with ten minutes to spare, impressing me with his punctuality.
“Hey, Red. Or should I call you boss while I’m here?”
“Grace works fine. Come on, I want to introduce you to my father.” I head toward the kitchen without waiting and he catches up in two long strides. Pushing open the swinging door, I walk toward the far wall where dad is manning the grill.
“Dad, this is Trevor, our new employee.”
He turns around and smiles. “Trevor, I’m Kevin Duffy. It’s nice to meet you. I was a big fan of your fathers.”
“You told him who my dad is?”
“You’re going to fill out paperwork for me tonight. It’s not like he wasn’t going to know.”
“Yeah, but he wouldn’t be able to form an opinion before he met me.”
“He isn’t an asshole,” my dad cuts in, a frown lowering his brow. “Rest assured, I never judge people by anything other than their actions. So far you seem like a solid young man. Don’t disappoint me.”
“No, sir. I won’t. I appreciate this opportunity. It came at the perfect time.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Could he suck up to my dad a little more?
“Here.” I grab a new black apron from the shelf on the right side of the space and slap it into his stomach. He catches it with a challenging smirk that makes me want to punch him in the face. “Put this on and follow me,” I order. He stays close behind as I lead him to the hallway, opening a small closet that runs between the men’s and women’s bathrooms. I wheel out the bucket and mop and push it toward him. “Fill this with hot water and add this.” I shove a bottle of disinfectant at him. “Mop down both bathroom floors and make sure the toilet paper and paper towel dispensers are full. If they’re not, you can find everything you need in this closet.” I gesture toward the open door. “Spray the sinks, toilets, and walls inside the stalls with the disinfectant and wipe them down. Wear gloves because it’s industrial strength and will probably dissolve your skin. Any questions?” I can’t keep the smug smile from fixing itself to my lips. He can’t complain and I’m loving it.
“No, none at all. What do you want me to do when that’s done?”
“One task at a time, Lincoln. Do a thorough job. When you’re done cleaning, empty the trash and replace the bags. There’s a dumpster out back.”
“Yes, boss.” He salutes. “I won’t let you down. When I get through you’ll be able to eat off the toilets.”
“Ew, let’s not push it. I’ll be out front if you have any questions.”
“It’s mopping floors and cleaning. I think I can handle it.”
I’m busy waiting tables and it takes me thirty minutes before I can check on Trevor. I find the men’s room door propped open and I carefully walk closer until I peek my head around the corner. Tip toeing the first few steps into the bathroom I come to an abrupt halt when I hear someone gagging and dry heaving.
“Motherfucking animals. Who rubs shit on the walls?” Trevor complains to himself before gagging again. I cover my mouth to stifle the laughter as I slowly back out of the bathroom. Once I’m in the hall, I hightail it back to the front and let my peals of laughter free. I’m getting a perverse sense of satisfaction knowing how miserable he is and how hard he’s working.
The next two hours are busy with customers continually flowing in and out. I haven’t seen Trevor again. He could’ve walked out and I wouldn’t realize it. That’s how busy we’ve been.
Things finally slow down around eight o’clock. Glancing about, I smile. Our space is filled to capacity. I hope this is an indication of what’s to come if we regularly extend to late night hours.
“Hey,” Trevor calls out, flagging me down from the hallway. I wander over to him and smile when I notice the dish towel covering the bottom of his face like a bandit and the rubber gloves on his hands.
“How’d it go?”
“How do you think it went?” He obviously realized I was testing him. The bathrooms are notorious for getting dirty, especially the men’s room. And after hearing him gag, I don’t even want to think about what he had to scrub off those floors and walls. Fortunately for me, my father’s never made me clean the men’s room.
“I think you probably hate me now, but I did warn you when you asked for the job.”
“I’m not complaining, just acknowledging that you had a laugh at my expense.”
I shrug impishly. “How did you know?”
“I would’ve done the same.”
“What can I say? An opportunity presented itself and I took it.”
“Now that I’m done with the bathrooms, would you like to inspect them?”
“I’ll look them over at the end of the shift. Head out back and ask my dad what he needs help with.”
“I’m not going to be out here with you?”
“Nope, not tonight at least. You’re still in training.”
“Training, huh? More like trial by fire. Throw me in there and see what sticks.”
I giggle. “I’m sure there was plenty stuck already.”
“I don’t even want to think about what was on those walls. I’m going to have nightmares about it.” I snicker thinking about how he was gagging. “Sure, laugh at my pain. I’m calling you to console me if I do.” He turns away, wheeling the bucket along in front of him. I watch as he stops at the closet, returning the mop and pail and untying the towel from his head. He peels off the rubber gloves and drops them into the trash before shutting off the closet light and closing the door. My gaze remains on him until he disappears as the black kitchen door swings back and forth before stilling. Through the round window I see him approaching my father and I turn away. Dad will handle him for the rest of the shift which leaves me to focus on keeping everything running smoothly out front.
Several hours later I lock the doors and flip the sign in the window to ‘Closed’. A tired sigh escapes me, but the sense of accomplishment churning through me is very satisfying.
“The salt shakers are all filled. Want me to do the pepper too?”
“Yes, please. And I’ll start loading the sugar bowls with more packets. Once we do that, we need to wipe down the counter a final time and sweep the floor and give it a quick mop.”
We work side by side. My gaze keeps slanting over, observing his large, capable hands as they load the pepper shakers and screw the caps back on.
“So, how did I do? Did I pass?”
“I don’t know that tonight was necessarily a test, but you did well,” I grudgingly admit.
“I did better than you expected. Admit it.” He nudges my arm with his elbow and I spill sugar on the granite counter.
“Way to go.”
“I’m waiting.”
“For?”
“For you to shower me with praise, dammit. Tell me what a great job I did.”
“Are you serious?”
/>
“No. Maybe.” He puts his thumb and index finger close together. “Just a little.”
“You did well for your first night. That’s all I’m going to say about it. I’m not going to “shower you with praise,” my fingers make air quotes. “That’s what every other girl on campus is for. I like to be the one person keeping your feet firmly on the ground with the rest of us mortals.”
“Thanks. I guess that’ll have to do.”
“You better not be serious, because if you’re a whiny attention seeker with a poor me complex I’ll find someone else to work with me.”
His white teeth shine in a deep grin. “I’m messing with you. Although, just so you know moving forward, a little pat on the back from time to time is appreciated.”
“I prefer giving you a kick in the ass.”
“Red, you can do whatever you want to me.”
“Is anyone else as glad as I am that we’re on a bye week and don’t have a game today?”
“God, yes. It’s so nice to sit here and take our time eating lunch. Every Friday is so rushed,” Amelia replies.
“I didn’t have a chance to tell you guys who’s working at the restaurant with me.”
“Who?” Leah asks digging into her lunch.
“Trevor.”
“What?” Amelia gasps.
Leah’s mouth opens in surprise. “How did that happen?”
“We added night hours three times a week and he happened to ask me if we needed help.”
“Why does Trevor need a job?” Amelia questions tearing off a new slice of pizza.
“He didn’t say and I didn’t really press for details. He seemed serious about it so it wasn’t like I could refuse without at least giving him the opportunity.”
“How did it go?” Leah prods.
“It went better than I thought it would. Part of me wasn’t sure if he was serious about needing the job or if he was using it for a shot to spend more time with me.” I hold up my hand. “Before you say anything, I know that sounded really egotistical and obnoxious. And after last night, I realize he’s serious about working and he didn’t flirt with me at all.” Why does that bother me? Did I want him to flirt with me? “What’s going on with you and Zeke?” I direct the question at Amelia.
“Nothing right now. We have to wait until the end of the football season before we can officially date.”
“I know that, but do you guys talk on the phone at all?”
“Nope. He messages me every night before he goes to bed, counting down the days until we can be together.”
“What’s the remaining number?” Leah leans forward, resting her chin in her hands.
“Thirty on the dot.”
I shrug my shoulders. “Meh, could be worse. Could be forty.”
“Haha, aren’t you funny.” Amelia rolls her eyes. “What’s going on with you, Leah? You’ve heard our dirt, now it’s your turn.”
“Umm, not much.”
“Nah, nah. Don’t give us that. Tell us what’s going on,” I tell her.
“Fine. Clancy asked me out and I said yes.” She doesn’t seem excited.
“Why do you look unsure?” I ask.
“Because I am. I’ve heard a lot of stories about him and it’s intimidating. I don’t want to be another puck bunny. He has enough notches on his hockey stick.”
“No one’s saying you have to sleep with him. Just take it day by day and trust your instincts,” Amelia offers solid advice.
“My instincts are screaming at me to run away. Maybe I should listen.”
“You could. Or you can go on one date and see how you feel after that. It’s not going to kill you to spend some time alone with him,” I point out.
“You’re one to talk,” Amelia huffs.
“What do you mean?”
“You should try taking your own advice and give Trevor a chance.”
“That’s completely different.”
“Is it? Because I think it’s exactly the same. In fact, I think you have less of a reason to say no to Trevor than I do to Clancy. At least you know Trevor. I just met this guy and he’s so big and scary.”
“Don’t forget hot,” Amelia giggles.
“He is hot. And very large.” I wiggle my brows.
“Oh God. I didn’t think about that.”
“What?”
“What if he’s huge all over?”
“Then you’ll come home with a smile on your face I guess.”
“Shut up. I’m not going to screw him.”
“So you say.”
“He might just charm the pants right off you. He seems like he could be pretty persuasive when he wants his way.”
Leah lays her head down on her forearms. “Oh God, you’re right. I’m totally going to sleep with him and I’ll be no different than any other girl. I need to cancel,” she groans.
“Okay, enough guy talk. We’re wasting perfectly good pizza here,” Amelia chimes in.
“I’m happy with my salad too.”
“Don’t you miss eating all this?” Leah waves gesturing to the pizza.
“Yeah, I do, but I can’t have it without getting sick and that makes it not worth it.”
“I don’t know. I think pizza is worth puking over,” Leah states, and we all laugh.
Chapter Ten
Trevor
“Who came up with this idea anyway?” I throw the question out as I maneuver burgers and dogs around so I can fit more on the grill.
“I think it was Flynn,” Owen replies from his seat at the table. “Why? Do you think a barbeque is a shit idea?”
“It’s not the worst thing we’ve ever done. Remember the landscaping fundraiser?” I close the top of the grill and move closer to the table, leaning back against the wooden railing.
Owen barks out a laugh. “Come on. How could I forget?”
“This sounds like a story I need to hear.” Nolan’s expression is eager.
“Well, we all suck at landscaping and we ran a fundraiser to do fall cleanup for anyone who wanted us to. We butchered too many shrubs to count. It was like a barber giving a bad haircut. We snipped a little more to make it even and then we took some more until finally too much had been cut off,” Owen explains.
“What happened? Did you guys have to replace the shrubs?” Nolan inquires.
Owen shakes his head. “Nah, we just never held another landscaping fundraiser.”
Clancy and Flynn step out the slider and find seats at the table.
“What are we talking about?” Clancy jumps into the mix.
“The landscaping fundraiser.” Owen smirks.
“Oh, christ. That was a fuck up of epic proportions.” Clancy runs his hand over his beard as a smile breaks out. “The funniest part of that is we were stone cold sober. It only looked like we were drunk.” We all laugh.
“It wasn’t our fault. Only dumbasses hire eighteen year old college guys to prune their shrubs.” Flynn interjects.
“If I remember correctly weren’t you the one who threw that idea out there in our meeting?” I ask.
Flynn holds up his hands. “Just because I thought of it didn’t mean you all had to vote for it.”
“We all thought we were the shit strutting around shirtless and getting attention from the neighborhood girls.” I smile at the memory.
“How has that changed?” Owen questions. “We still think we’re the shit.”
“No. Now we know it.” Flynn holds his hand out to bump fists with Owen. I watch with amusement.
“Trevor,” Nolan calls my name.
“What’s up?”
“I don’t think flames are supposed to be shooting out the sides of the grill.”
“Oh, shit.” I hurry over, lifting the lid. Clancy rises to his feet and heads my way. The deck shakes with each step he takes. It’s a good thing this structure is only a few feet above ground level. At least when it gives out, and I say when because the wood is gray and splintered, we won’t have far to fall.
“
Here, let the grillmaster take over.”
I back away. “Gladly, man. I was hoping you’d say that.” Standing in front of a hot grill isn’t really my thing. In fact any kind of cooking has always been a huge failure for me. I can barely make toast without burning it. I once set popcorn on fire in the microwave. Our apartment smelled like charred popcorn for days.
Heading over to the table I sink onto the chair Clancy vacated just as the slider opens and a gaggle of cheerleaders join us. Shit. I’m not ready to be surrounded by people, but we are having a barbeque fundraiser. If no one showed, we wouldn’t raise much money for the frat. That defeats the purpose so I guess I need to suck it up and be personable. Even though I’d rather be at home watching wrestling with Grace tucked into my side. Now that’s an unrealistic thought. One, she’d never watch wrestling and two, she wouldn't agree to come over. Trying to get closer to her is like running on a hamster wheel, endlessly spinning and never getting anywhere. Maybe I’m only wasting time.
The green plastic chair next to mine is pulled back before Sandy sits down beside me. Just fucking great. I already know how this is going to go before she opens her mouth.
“Hi, Trevor.” She smiles.
“Hey.” My eyes lower to her lips. Painted a shiny, red, they don’t tempt me at all. When she leans closer I realize my mistake. She thinks I’m interested.
“Haven’t seen you around much. Where have you been hiding?” I wish I could hide right now.
“I’ve been busy.”
“You can squeeze in a little time for fun I’m sure.” Her palm slides over the top of the cheap, plastic table until her fingertips are grazing the back of my hand. “I’m always looking for some fun.” She licks her lips, drawing my attention to them once more. Her flirting is doing nil for me. In the past I’ve jumped at such an opportunity, but now I feel nothing.
Sandy leans closer, sandwiching my arm between her tits. Talk about invading my personal space. “Want to get out of here?” Yes, I do, but not for the same reason you want to. How did I ever find her flirting so appealing? And it wasn’t that long ago. Does this mean I’m maturing? Becoming a better person? Or does it mean I’ve found the girl who does it for me and nothing less will suffice?
