by Nicole Marsh
“Can we leave now?” I ask Vlad in a quiet voice after Cindy walks away to grab the mop.
“No,” He responds flatly. “We’re staying here.” He makes a gesture signifying that I should resume eating. He inhaled his food and his plate is already empty. Somehow my own burger escaped the water unscathed.
Vlad watches as I take a few bites of my burger. He glares at anyone else in the Diner that even dares to glance at our table. I finish only a small portion of the food left on my plate, the anxious knot in my stomach has grown into all of the available space, and I’m no longer hungry.
I push my plate away and move to stand from the booth. Vlad exits his side at the same time and wraps an arm around my shoulder, guiding me to the cash register. He drops some cash on the counter and tells Cindy to keep the change. He doesn’t take his arm away until we’re outside by his car and he’s holding the door open for me.
Vlad is in a bad mood when we pull out of the parking lot and our car ride begins in a tense silence. Not having a ton of friends, I feel awkward in social situations. I’m not sure if I should apologize for ruining our lunch, or if that would make his mood worse.
Deciding to remain silent, I pull out my phone and huddle down in my seat, close to the door. I shoot a text to Sylvia to see how her classes are going, but she doesn’t message back. Keeping my phone in my hands for something to do, I mess around a bit more, deleting old emails and reading a news article, waiting until the car stops to put it away.
We’re a couple hours early for our interview, so I’m not sure what to expect from the rest of the afternoon. Before we exit the car, Vlad pulls out a large, black, square-shaped bag that looks like an oversized lunchbox. He catches me staring and simply states, “Camera.”
Vlad leads me around the school as he takes a few photos of the brick building, then we head down to the field and he grabs a few pictures of the players in action. After Vlad is satisfied that we have a picture that will fit well with our article, we move to sit on the bleachers to watch practice. I lean forward on the bleacher, with my elbows resting along my knees watching the players run the field.
I‘m imagining what going to a game would be like if I were popular like Vlad was. I haven’t been in the high school stadiums in years, not since my parents dragged me to one of Vlad’s games a couple of years ago. In my mind I picture the cheerleaders performing to pump up the crowd while people jump around in the stands, laughing and gossiping. The announcer calling out information while I sit with a group of people sharing a plate of semi-edible nachos from the concessions stand.
The sound of the camera shutter snaps me out of my imaginary scene and I turn my head to see what Vlad is photographing now. His camera is aimed at me, and Vlad clicks a few more pictures before I throw my hands over my face. “Stop!” I yell, in a light tone. I’m not super upset about the photos, but I’m sure I’m probably a wreck, with food in my hair from the Diner.
Vlad just shrugs and puts the camera down on the bleachers beside him and we both turn to watch the remainder of practice. I try to discretely pull my phone out and check my hair and face for any remaining food. Luckily my few napkin swipes seems to have cleaned my face and the parts of my hair I can see are also clear of food debris. I let out a small sigh, the last thing I need is more embarrassing photos of me posted around town.
The team starts packing up in preparation of heading out, indicating it’s time to walk to the field. Vlad greets a man that I assume is the coach, he’s dressed in athletic shorts and wearing a whistle around his neck. Standing near him are two sweat-drenched football players, still wearing their padded uniforms.
Vlad confirms my assumptions when he introduces the man as Coach Martinson and the two guys standing near him, Tony and Eric. Coach tells us the two guys just graduated, but they’re helping to run practice over the summer for the players staying on the team next year and a few hopefuls that will be trying out in the fall. He answers the few questions Vlad and I prepared for him, walking off to the locker room once we’re finished.
After coach walks away, Vlad, Tony, Eric, and I settle into the bleachers for the interview. Vlad sits awkwardly close to me on the second bleacher up, I can feel the heat of his thigh through our jeans. I pull out my pad of paper and simultaneously inch a tiny bit away, trying to go unnoticed, but Vlad just expands into the extra space. Trying one more time yields the same results and I decide to give up. I don’t want to deter from the interview by making a big deal out of Vlad touching me, so I just stay put.
Facing the two footballers, I start with the first question that I wrote in my notebook. “Half of last year’s team graduated two weeks ago. Do you think the dynamic of the team will change this year with all the new players?”
“Definitely…” “Not at all, coach…” Tony and Eric talk over each other to start their answer to the question.
They both pause and look at each other. “Why don’t we start with Eric then go to Tony for each question?” I suggest.
The boys nod and Eric begins to answer again. “Coach trains us all the same way. I think the team environment that he fosters will remain the same…”
I start to tune out Eric’s answer when I feel Vlad’s hand on my lower back, playing with the hem of my shirt. I cut my eyes towards him, but he looks transfixed by Eric’s words. Nodding occasionally and jotting notes with his left hand, his eyes never once leave the two guys. He must not notice what he’s doing, I reason. Tuning back into the interview, I’m able to ask two more questions before we’re interrupted.
Vlad’s name rings out across the stadium, and within seconds, Marvin and Garth jog into view. They stop in front of our cluster of four, neither of them breathing heavily, despite the lengthy jog across the field. They address Vlad and ignore the rest of us. “Hey man, there’s an issue back at the Community Center. We’ve been looking all over for you.”
With a shuttered face, Vlad turns to me. “I need you to finish this up and grab a cab back to the daily.” His tone brokers no argument and without waiting for my response, he jumps up and strides away with his two friends. I watch as they walk swiftly with their heads bent together to talk, then break into a run once Vlad’s been filled in. Vlad is tall and built, but he barely has an inch on his friends who are both also tall and burly.
I muddle my way through the rest of the interview, getting mixed answers from the boys. They don’t seem to agree on anything about the team next year and I wish Vlad had stayed to help me formulate better follow-up questions. Once we’re finished with the questions I had prepared, I stand and shake both of their hands, thanking them for their time.
In the lot of the stadium I try calling for a ride, twice, but reach voicemail both times. There’s only one taxi service in town, with two taxis that must both be busy. It’s unusual but not unheard of. Sighing, I try both of my parent’s phones, but neither answer. As a last resort, I call Sylvia even though she’s in class, but she also doesn’t answer.
Cursing Vlad for abandoning me, I start to trudge back towards the Daily resigned to having to walk. I’m about halfway between the downtown and my house, but I need to head to work. Not only is my car is parked in the parking lot, but I also left my purse in my desk, after deciding against bringing it to the interview.
I’ve barely made it to the entrance of the parking lot when a sleek black car pulls up next to me. The window slides down and I can see one of the football players, Tony, inside the car looking out at me. He yells out his window, “Hey, do you want a ride?” And I hesitate for just a second before shrugging and opening the door to hop in.
Tony parks his car across four of the spots in front of the Daily, leaving the engine idling. I give him a small smile and am about to exit when he holds up his hand for me to wait. “Hey, are you free on Friday? I’m having a party, you should swing by.”
He’s inviting me, a total stranger, to his party? “Sure, I’d really like that.” I reply trying to sound casual. Meanwhile my brain is wo
rking in overdrive, a party? I’ve never been invited to a party before. I work keep my face neutral when I really want to grin like a lunatic.
Tony nods his head. “Cool. You’re Vlad’s girl, right? I’ll just send him my address, I have his number from last year.”
His words are like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over my head and I sputter to correct him. “I, I’m not his girl. I mean, Vlad and I aren’t a thing. We just work together.” Smooth. I want to face palm myself.
Tony holds his phone out to me. “Oh, cool, cool. Why don’t you put in your number and send yourself a text? I’ll shoot you a text with my address once I get home.”
I accept his phone and put in my number, hesitating for a minute before entering my name, I end up putting in “Mira Love- the Daily” so he remembers who I am and why he has my number. Then I send a text to my phone with his name.
I thank him for dropping me off, then exit the car, watching as he drives off before I turn to the building. My first party! I’m lost in thought about parties and my outfit, as I walk up to the building. Without checking my surroundings, I walk through the doors and run straight into a warm wall of muscle. Hands grab onto my arms as I exhale an oomph. The hold keeps me from falling to the ground and waits to let go until I’ve regained my footing.
6
The Competition
Mirabella
Sorry Marc.” I apologize, my cheeks heating with embarrassment once I look up. Nothing like being late every day and plowing down your boss to make a good impression. That’s what everyone says.
Marc flashes me a smile and I notice he has really nice teeth. All straight and white. “It’s okay I was just locking up, did you need something from inside?”
Feeling sheepish for interrupting him as he was leaving, I nod. “Yeah, I actually left my purse in my desk earlier, do you mind if I go and grab it? I’ll be quick!” I reassure him. I’m sure he has plans for the rest of the night that don’t involve staying late at work.
Mar shrugs. “No problem.” He extends an arm to hold the door open for me, then follows closely behind as I hurry to my desk.
I grab my stuff out of the drawer, then see Marc’s sweatshirt straight away. “Oh! I have your sweatshirt.” I say, while still digging through my things. When I straighten, Marc is playing with one of the pens on my desk. I hand over his sweatshirt and he puts down the pen he was twirling around to take it. He goes to his office with the sweatshirt and this time, I’m trailing after him, unsure if I should let myself out or wait for him. “Any big plans for the night?”
Marc places the sweatshirt over the back of his desk chair before facing me. He leans his hip against his desk casually and crosses his arms. “Not really, I was thinking about just watching a movie at home. Do you have any suggestions?”
I shrug. “A relaxing night at home is always nice. Florence is pretty small, so there isn’t a lot to do here at night. Most people just go to the Parlor for an evening treat – the ice cream shop off Main Street downtown.”
Marc straightens and uncrosses his arms, taking a few steps forward. “I haven’t been there yet. Why don’t you make sure you have all your stuff and I’ll take us, my treat?”
Without giving the invitation much thought I lift my purse in the air so he can see it. “Everything’s in here, so I’m ready.”
Marc places his hand on my lower back as he steers me to the door. I stand to the side waiting for him to lock up the Daily, suddenly feeling perplexed. Did I just ask my boss on a date? And did he accept?
Marc drives us to the Parlor, jogging around the front of his truck to open my door once we arrive. We reach the counter and he makes polite conversation with the teenaged-girl scooping the ice cream, I don’t recognize her so she probably went to Vlad’s high school. “What flavors do you recommend? I’m new in town and to this ice cream shop.”
The girl sweeps her eyes across the flavor and grabs us both a sample of chocolate fudge. The ice cream melts on my tongue, creamy and flavorful. I’ve always been a fruit flavored ice cream girl though, so I want something else. “Do you have anything fruity?”
She give us samples of a strawberry, blueberry, and a cherry. The last sample is my favorite by far, so I place an order for a small scoop of cherry. Marc sticks with a ‘classic’ and orders mint chocolate chip. “Can you ring them together?” He asks the girl before we reach the register.
Once our ice cream is paid for, we exit to the outdoor patio, sitting at one of the bistro tables. It’s a warm night and surprisingly not raining. Basically, the perfect night to sit outside and enjoy some ice cream.
I eye Marc as he devours his cup of ice cream and make a face. He raises a brow in return. With a small scoff I ask, “Who orders minty ice cream? Yuck. It’s supposed to be a treat not taste like toothpaste.”
Marc just laughs, scooping a little spoonful, and placing it right on top of my cherry ice cream. I respond with a “Bleh” but lick the ice cream off my cone anyways. “I heard you telling the girl you were new here… where are you from?”
Marc stabs his spoon into the small bit of ice cream remaining, leaving his hands free while he talks. “I’m from a small town in Connecticut. My entire family has lived there for years. I’m one of the only Sieves to break free.” He says, referencing his family name to say he’s one of the few in his family that has moved away.
I pause eating my own ice cream. “What brought you to Florence?”
Marc’s eyes take on a faraway look. “I’ve always wanted to run my own paper. A little less than a year ago, I saw an ad posted that the Daily was for sale and I moved here to pursue my dreams.” He gives me a little smile and resumes eating his ice cream.
I mull over his words a bit. It’s odd to me that an ad for our tiny newspaper would be seen all the way in Connecticut, but maybe the old owner was really desperate to retire. Marc and I finish our ice cream in a comfortable silence.
He gathers up our garbage and we walk to his truck. Marc looks like he wants to ask a question and opens his mouth, then closes it again. He does this twice more before he finally asks, “Are you and Vlad a couple.. Like are you dating?”
My eyebrows raise in shock. That was literally the last thing that I expected him to ask. “Me and Vlad? No our families know each other… our parents are old friends. I’m pretty sure Vlad hates me. He used to bully me in high school and now he mostly acts like I don’t exist.”
Marc’s brow furrows and he drives us back to the Daily to drop me off at my car. Once we pull up, he gets out and opens my door again, gathering me into a crushing hug once my feet touch the ground.
I try to relax into his hold, but it’s kind of uncomfortable. Hugging my boss in the middle of the work parking lot after he just bought me ice cream. Overall, this whole night has been odd.
Marc pulls back and his eyes search mine as he steps away. “See you tomorrow Mira. Thanks for going to the Parlor with me.”
“Thanks for the ice cream.” I reply with a small wave before walking to my car. I buckle up and wave at Marc again when I see he’s waiting for me to drive away first. He returns the wave with a smile.
As soon as I get home, I plop down on my bed and stare at the ceiling. Today was the weirdest day that I’ve had in a long time. My phone shows a missed call from Sylvia, but I’m not ready to call her back yet. Even though I haven’t talked to her in a few days, I need some time to process everything that happened today first.
Vlad took me out to lunch and gave me his favorite sweatshirt, which I then left in his car. Tony invited me to a party and I maybe went on an ice cream date with my boss.
The next day, my alarm goes off for the first time since I started at the Daily. Before getting out of bed, I flip my phone around between my hands, trying to figure out if I did anything differently to set my alarm. Waking up on time allows me to leisurely straighten my hair, apply a bit of mascara and lip gloss and take my time choosing a dress to wear.
The Daily is casual dress
, but Marc and a few others usually dress more businesslike. I try to pick a happy medium between casual and business. I choose a pale pink wrap dress and some nude heeled sandals, feeling feminine, and ready to tackle the day.
I continue downstairs, grabbing a banana and putting a sandwich from the fridge into my bag, humming as I move along. It’s so relaxing and pleasant not having to scramble in the morning. Yelling out goodbye, I drive to work, arriving fifteen minutes early.
Vlad is exiting his car at the same time as me and he hovers as I gather my purse. “Sorry, I had to bail on you yesterday.” He says as a greeting, at the same time he hands me the sweatshirt from yesterday that I left in his car.
I shrug as I deposit the sweatshirt into my car before closing my door. “It’s fine. Tony actually was able to give me a ride back to my car.”
Vlad uses my shoulders to twirl me around to face him, his expression is furious. “Stay away from Tony. He’s bad news.”
His words make a scowl appear on my own face. So much for a pleasant morning. “Vlad, you don’t get to dictate my friendships. Especially after you abandon me without a car!” He’s the most rude and annoying person on this planet. Huffing, I stalk off to my desk leaving him standing in the entryway.
My scowl falls off my face when I see a box of chocolate covered cherries with a folded note. I open the paper to see a message from Marc, “Saw these at the store after ice cream and thought of you –M.”
Marc is buying me gifts now? Not that I’m complaining, I love all things cherry. When I look up, I catch Marc staring at me through the glass windows of his office. I offer a smile and a wave and he smiles in return.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Vlad looking at me then following the direction of my gaze to look at Marc. His scowl deepens and he slams his chair around before planting himself at his desk. I don’t understand Vlad’s moods, but I vow to ignore him as much as possible for the rest of the day and focus on work. Hopefully I won’t be forced to shadow him again after this week.
