SSDTU 2 - He’s So not Worth It

by Kieran Scott

  What was he doing here, anyway?

  “Um, yeah . . . I . . . I’m looking for a job? For the summer?” I said.

  I sounded like a tool. Lion dude laughed under his breath and shook his head. Luckily, a couple of customers came in to distract him, because if he kept laughing at me right now, I was gonna have to walk around the counter and dead leg him.

  Mr. Ryan smiled. “Come with me.”

  He walked down the counter, grabbing a piece of paper from a drawer on the way, and gestured at the small round table in the back corner. The one no one ever sat at because what’s the point of hanging out at Jump if you’re not gonna hang with all your friends and people watch from the huge window up front?

  “Have a seat.”

  I did. He sat across from me. My back was to the door. He smiled at me expectantly. I was starting to feel hot.

  “I’m Chris Ryan,” he said, offering his hand.

  “Jake,” I said as we shook. I cleared my throat. “Jake Graydon.”

  “Ever been on a job interview before, Jake?” he asked.

  Was it that obvious? “No, sir.”

  He chuckled. “While I appreciate the sentiment, you don’t need to call me sir. Mr. Ryan’s fine, and maybe if we get to know each other better, Chris.”

  “Okay,” I said. I’d had adults tell me to call them by their first names before, but I never really thought they meant it, so I’d never actually done it.

  He put the paper in front of me and turned it around with his fingertips. Then he added a pen from his pocket. It was an application. “Why don’t you just fill out the first section?”

  “All right.” I cleared my throat and started writing. I paused when I came to the part asking for my address. Which was his old address.

  “So . . . never had a job before?” he asked.

  “I used to cut lawns in middle school,” I told him.

  Fuck it. What was I gonna do, lie about where I lived? I wrote down my address.

  “Well, that’s something,” he said.

  I finished up with the basic info and handed back his pen. He picked up the application and I averted my eyes. There was nothing to look at but the brick wall. On it was an artsy, framed poster of a coffee cup, with three wavy lines of steam rising up from it.

  “You live at number two Vista View Lane?” he asked.

  My eyes were now on the table as I nodded. “Yes, sir. I mean, Mr. Ryan.”

  “That’s my—I mean . . . I used to live there,” he said.

  I nodded again. Looked him in the eye. “Yeah, I mean, yes. I know.”

  His eyebrows came together. “You do?”

  “I know Ally?” I said. God, I sounded like English was my second language.

  “Oh!” His body relaxed. “How do you know her?”

  My throat was so dry there were armadillos crawling across it. “Um, we’re friends. From school. She was my backslapper for soccer.”

  “You play soccer? That’s great,” he said. He double-clicked the pen, then made a note on my application. “It’s good to get involved in school activities. Keeps you out of trouble.”

  “I swim, too. And play lacrosse,” I said.

  He leaned back in his chair, clicking the pen again, and grinned like we were suddenly old friends. So he still didn’t remember me. He had no clue that I’d been there that night when Shannen had made that stupid video of him. “Jake Graydon . . . I don’t think she’s mentioned you.”

  My stomach sank. Great. Just great. That was so what I needed to hear right then.

  “But we’re not here to talk about Ally,” he said. Another pen click. He rested his forearms against the edge of the table, hovering over my almost-blank application. “We’re here to talk about you.”

  The bell over the door rang and a bunch of loud people entered. Loud, young voices. Like people I might know. I didn’t turn around.

  “If you want to work here, Jake, you’re going to have to be willing to work odd hours,” he said. He turned the application over and I saw that there was a spot to check off which days you could work. “The place is open from five a.m. to midnight every day, so your shifts will be all over the place. How does that sit with you?”

  “It sits fine,” I said.

  But there was no way I was ever coming in here at five a.m. Up front there was a huge group laugh. My neck was on fire. What if someone recognized me sitting here with the manager and an application? Did I really want to work here, where I’d be seeing people from school all the time?

  This morning, when my mother had asked me where I was going to apply, Jump, Java, and Wail! just came out of my mouth. Because I hadn’t thought about it at all. Because I had hoped she was going to change her mind. But then, as I was walking down Orchard Avenue, I realized that there was nowhere better. I didn’t fold my own shirts, so I wasn’t about to fold them at the Gap all summer. The deli was out, because mayonnaise-based salads make me hurl. And the library? Uh, no. And then, I was here.

  “Any days you can’t work?” he asked.

  “Nope,” I said. “Oh, except I’m gonna be taking a class at BCC in a couple of weeks. I’m not sure which days it meets yet.”

  “A college class over the summer, huh?” His eyes lit up, and I realized he thought I was taking it voluntarily. He made another note. “That’s good.”

  “Yeah,” I said. Did I really come off as someone who wanted to study over the summer? I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

  “I need someone who’ll be responsible, show up on time, and not mess around with their friends when they come in.”

  “I wouldn’t do that, Mr. Ryan,” I said.

  Mostly because if anyone I knew came in here, I’d be hiding in the back.

  “And you can’t be twittering and texting and all that, either,” Mr. Ryan said. “This is a place of business. We have fun here, don’t get me wrong, but we all have to respect each other, and that means respecting the job.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said with a nod.

  But what the hell was he talking about? The place sold nothing but coffee and muffins. It wasn’t the Pentagon.

  The bells above the door rang again. Mr. Ryan looked up and did a double take, and then his jaw went slack. I turned around, just in time to see Mrs. Stein, Todd and Trevor’s mom, spot Mr. Ryan. Her skin turned gray.

  “What the—?” she blurted.

  Mr. Ryan shoved himself to his feet as she stormed over. She clutched the strap of her purse for dear life with both hands.

  “Sarah. Hello! I—”

  “Hello? Is that all you’ve got to say to me? What are you even doing here?”

  I’d never seen the twins’ mom so pissed. Not even the time they’d used the hood of her car as a skate ramp. I sat there and sort of stared at the sides of their legs, my heart pounding. Everyone in the place was staring at us.

  “I’m sorry, Sarah, but can we do this another time?” Mr. Ryan said in a professional voice. “I’m in the middle of—”

  “What? You’re not just going to blow me off. Not after all this time! Do you realize my family lost their home because of what you did?”

  From the corner of my eye, I could see people whispering behind their hands. A few kids from school were texting. Otherwise, the place was silent.

  “I didn’t know that. And I’m very sorry. But you must realize I did nothing malicious,” Mr. Ryan explained. “It was all a horrible mistake. My family was affected by it too.”

  “You can’t just gamble with people’s livelihoods, Christopher!” Mrs. Stein blurted. “With people’s lives!”

  Mr. Ryan put his hand on her arm. “I understand why you’re so upset, Sarah. If you’d like to wait for me in my office, you can shout at me all you want. . . .”

  She glanced at the door behind the counter, which he was now steering her toward. For the first time, she noticed what he was wearing too. “Your office? You . . . you work here?”

  “At the moment, yes,” he said.


  She snorted a laugh and shook her hair back. “Thanks anyway. I think I’ve done all the shouting I need to do. But you can bet I won’t be coming back in here anytime soon.”

  Her eyes flicked to me for the first time, and I did the only thing I could think to do. I raised a hand weakly and smiled. “Hi, Mrs. Stein.”

  “Jake,” she said, appearing confused. Then she turned around and flounced back out to the street.

  Mr. Ryan blew out a sigh as he sat. Gradually, the life returned to the coffee shop. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”

  “That . . . that’s okay,” I said.

  “There are some people in this town who are not very happy with me,” he said, his eyes going distant as he looked down at my application. I felt sort of sorry for him right then. The guy had just made a mistake. Yeah, that mistake meant millions of dollars for a lot of people, but . . . it was still a mistake. “Anyway, where were we?” He glanced over the page. “Ah. Right. So . . . tell me why you think I should hire you, considering you have no experience,” he said. He held the pen over a bottom section labeled “notes.” His hand was shaking.

  I stared at him for a second. Was he kidding? What kind of experience did a person need to pour coffee?

  “Um, well . . . I’m here because I want to prove to my parents that I can be responsible,” I improvised. Because telling him my mom made me come here so I could prove to college admissions boards that I was responsible probably wouldn’t sound too good. “I don’t want to be just another one of those rich kids who has everything handed to him,” I said. “That’s not me.”

  The pen didn’t move. He narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t buying it. He was about five seconds away from calling my bluff and booting my ass to the curb.

  But then, he smiled. “Good answer.” He stood up and offered his hand. “You’re hired.”

  “Really?” I asked, standing as well. I realized my palms were sweating and I rubbed them on my chino shorts before shaking his hand. “Thanks.”

  He gripped my hand tightly and didn’t let go. “I’m taking a chance on you, Jake. Don’t let me down.”

  Dude. The guy sounded like something out of an army movie. It was coffee. As in, crushed beans and water. Lighten up.

  “I won’t, sir,” I said, trying to sound grave. He gave me a look. But not an admonishing look. More like, Dude. Get with the program. “I mean, Mr. Ryan.”

  “Good. You can start tomorrow. Eleven a.m. work for you?” he said.

  Eleven was a little early, but I guess it could have been five. “Sure.”

  “Good.”

  He finally released my hand and slapped me on the shoulder. He looked past me toward the door, then out the window, up to the right. I wondered if he was waiting for Mrs. Stein to come back with a posse or something.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m actually just waiting for Ally to show up.” He glanced at his watch. “I’m hoping to talk to her mother when she drops her off, but they’re late.”

  I couldn’t breathe. “Ally’s coming here? Now?”

  “She’s supposed to be, yeah,” he said. “I was going to take my fifteen to hopefully chat with her mom and then help her carry her stuff over to my apartment, but if tradition holds, it’s about to get seriously busy in here. I’d rather not leave during a rush.”

  I barely heard the last part. I was too busy shaking my head to get all the Ally-related information to fall into place, to make sense.

  “Carry her stuff?” I said.

  “Yeah. Ally’s staying with me for the summer,” he told me. “I got an apartment across the street. Hey . . . maybe you could help her bring her stuff over. As a kind of favor to your new boss?”

  My face burned. “Uh, yeah. Sure. I could do that.”

  Ally was staying with her dad for the summer. In walking distance to Jump, Java, and Wail! Where I was going to be working. She was not going down to LBI. She was not going to be three hours away. Instead, she was going to be right across the street and we were going to be thrown together all the time. She’d come visit her dad at work, I’d give her free coffee. Sooner or later she’d have to talk to me. She’d have to forgive me.

  This was the best day ever. Thank God my mom had grounded me.

  “Now remember, Ally. If you need anything—anything at all—you can call me anytime,” my mother said as Gray drove his silver Land Rover up Orchard Avenue toward Jump, Java, and Wail! She kept turning around in the front seat, her sunglasses pushed back atop her head, holding her hair away from her face. Quinn sat next to me, some musical soundtrack turned up to an ungodly volume on her iPod. The entire car was filled with the sickly sweet scent of her watermelon gum. The back was crammed with canvas Lands’ End bags, filled to the brim with everything from sunscreen to beach towels to exercise equipment. Apparently when Gray packed up his shore house at the end of each summer, he left nothing behind for the next.

  “I know, Mom. Thanks,” I said.

  Gray slowed down and hit his blinker to make the left onto Grove Lane. Jump was right on the corner, and already a few girls from school were hanging outside in their short shorts, sipping iced lattes. Suddenly Quinn pulled out her earbuds and the sound of a wailing voice filled the car, backed up by, like, a hundred trumpets.

  “Did you guys know that Bye Bye Birdie is actually a spoof?” she asked, her blue eyes bright. Quinn had not stopped talking about Bye Bye Birdie for the last month. She was going to be playing the lead in the show at some big local theater down the shore. Which was supposedly why Gray had taken the entire summer off to stay down there. Usually he only did weekends. As much as I knew he loved Quinn, I had a feeling he was actually taking an entire summer off so he could shack up with my mom. “They were spoofing what happened when Elvis Presley went to war. Did you know that Elvis Presley was drafted?”

  My mom and Gray exchanged an amused look, like Isn’t our daughter oh so precious? It made my stomach turn. Because last time I checked, Quinn was not my mother’s daughter. Staying in Orchard Hill for the summer was the best choice I’d ever made. Because I couldn’t watch that every day for the next ten weeks.

  “Yes, I believe I read that somewhere,” Gray joked, his long blond bangs flopping over the tops of his Ray-Bans.

  The traffic opened up and he made the turn, pulling into one of the fifteen-minute parking spaces alongside the store. I jumped out, tugging my gargantuan duffel bag with me.

  “Thanks, Gray!” I shouted as my mom got out of the car.

  He lifted a hand. “Have fun!”

  My mother took my hands, kissed my cheek, and gave me this half-pout, half-smile. “You sure you’re okay with this?”

  “Yes, Mom. I’m sure,” I said patiently.

  “Okay, then.” She gave me a bear hug. “Be safe! And call me tonight.”

  “Wait,” I said, my heart falling. “You’re not coming in with me?”

  She glanced toward the coffee shop warily. “Ally—”

  “What if dad wants to talk to you about . . . I don’t know . . . rules or something?” I said.

  She laughed. “You’re not exactly high-maintenance.”

  “But, Mom,” I said, feeling desperate. This was my one and only chance to get my parents back in the same room together for the rest of the summer. “Just for a minute?” I glanced at the side window of Jump, willing him to come out.

  “Ally, I told you,” she said, stepping closer to me and lowering her voice. “I’m not ready to talk to your father yet.”

  “Well, when will you be ready?” I asked, irritated. After you’ve eloped with Gray?

  “I don’t know,” she said seriously. Then she blew out a breath. “Enough of this. I’ll talk to you later. Be good, okay?”

  “Just wait one second,” I said, taking a couple of steps toward the door. “I’m sure he’ll—”

  And that’s when I spotted them.

  Jake Graydon was standing with my father at the back of the shop, and they were chatting like old friends. They had
n’t noticed me yet, probably because my dad was too busy belly laughing at something Jake had just said into his ear. My father, the guy who kept so many secrets from me I couldn’t even count them, and Jake, the guy who’d kept the biggest secret of all.

  What. The hell. Was this?

  Jake was supposed to be out of my life, not hanging out in it when I wasn’t even around. It was just so wrong. Like my feelings didn’t matter at all. Like he still thought he belonged, no matter what I said. And talking to my dad like best buds? I’d barely even talked to my dad in two years.

  What were they saying about me?

  Wait a minute, Ally. Calm down. It’s not all about you.

  Except what else could they possibly be talking about?

  Just then, my dad looked through the window, saw me, and waved. He started out the front door, sidestepping a mother and daughter who were hovering by the fixings area. Jake followed after him.

  My mother sighed, oblivious. “Ally, we have to go—”

  “Wait,” I said, my voice shrill. My mind was reeling and suddenly I didn’t even care if she spoke to my dad. I just didn’t want her to leave me alone to deal with . . . this.

  “Ally! Hey!”

  My dad walked over and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. Jake hovered there, hands in the pockets of his shorts, a doofy smile on his face.

  “Hello, Melanie,” my father said.

  She shot me a half-fed-up, half-sad look. “Hello, Chris.”

  Dad looked through the car window and lifted a hand at Gray, like they were all long-lost friends having a roadside chat. Everyone was very civil, all of a sudden. I glanced at Jake, feeling nervous and awkward and confused and annoyed. What the hell was he doing here?

  And why did he have to be so freaking gorgeous? His spiky brown hair was gelled up a little in front, and the bright sky peeking through the canopy of tree branches overhead made his light blue eyes practically glow. He was wearing a short-sleeved button down shirt and khaki shorts with leather sandals. Kind of dressed up for a random summer day, but it worked on him. Who was I kidding? Everything worked on him.

  “Hey . . . are you okay?” he asked as my dad started peppering my mom with questions about the shore—how long were they staying, did they have any big plans, etc., etc. Jake put his hands on his hips as he looked at me with concern. He had really long arms. Long and tan. The kind you just want to sink into. I tore my gaze off them and looked him in the eye.