Finders Keepers

by N. R. Walker

  Bernice just kept on smiling. Her eyes were clear so, no, not stoned, just happy. “We’ve had a good day. He’s kept me company while I made some mango jam, and we did some gardening and had afternoon tea. Then the sun made us lazy and we haven’t moved since.”

  “Sounds like a perfect day.”

  “He has a calming effect on me. I think his little doggie aura puts out good vibes.”

  I chuckled. “I think it does too.”

  “How was your first day?”

  “Really good.”

  “Well, you look as polished now as you did this morning. I don’t think they’re working you hard enough.”

  I snorted at that and put my hand to my chest and gave her my at-work voice. “Don’t be mistaken, ma’am. I look this good all the time.”

  Her shoulders shook as she laughed. “I’m sure you do. Oh, K’ll be coming around later when he shuts up his store. Just in case you see someone coming and going.”

  “No worries.” Wicket was now doing an impatient dance at my feet. “Okay, okay, give me two minutes!”

  Our walk to the park consisted of Wicket sniffing everything he could put his nose to and trotting around with his little happy tail in the air. I spent the entire time on the phone. First to Nick, then to my sister. They wanted to know how my first day went. It was, after all, the reason I moved here, so their interest was warranted and genuine. And it was good to talk to them.

  Nick and I talked about our friends and what was going on, which was much of the same as it always was. “Sounds like life up there agrees with you,” he said. There was no resentment or disappointment in his voice; sure, things between us had fizzled out, but we would always be friends.

  “It does, so far. I’m loving it. Did I tell you my landlady is a stoner?”

  “The old lady?”

  “Yep. Baked as clay.”

  We laughed and chatted for a bit, and when my phone beeped with an incoming call, I thought it might be Dane, so I said goodbye to Nick and took the call.

  Only to find it was my sister. And talking to her was good too, once I’d gotten over the disappointment of it not being Dane. I asked her how the kids were going and she sighed and launched into a monologue to rival a one-man play.

  When Wicket was bored with the park and we’d walked far enough, I said goodbye to my sister and went home.

  I cooked dinner. No phone call from Dane.

  I ate dinner. No phone call.

  I let Wicket out to do his business. No phone call.

  So I made sure my uniform was ready for the next day and grabbed a quick shower, only to get out and realise I had one missed call.

  Of course there bloody was.

  It was Dane’s number and so I quickly towelled off and changed into my usual sleeping attire of boxers and a T-shirt and hit redial.

  “Hello?” he answered.

  “Oh, hi. Sorry I missed your call. I was in the shower.”

  A beat of silence. “Thanks for the visual.”

  I blushed, thankful he couldn’t see. “You know it’s Murphy’s Law, right? You wait and wait to take a shower and nothing, so finally you think ‘bugger it’ and take the shower, and of course, that’s when you call.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah. I dunno who Murphy was or what he did to piss off the universe, but he has a lot to answer for.”

  “He totally does.”

  “How was your first day?”

  “Really good.” I was going to leave it at that but figured if he and I had any chance of progressing, then I should be honest. “I think my boss likes me. She’s a bit of a hard-arse, but I like her. She takes no crap and I’d take brutal honesty over nice but two-faced any day.”

  “So would I.”

  “And the others all seem pretty cool. I think I’ve got a few of them pegged already. Which ones I’ll get along with and which ones I’ll have to tolerate.”

  He snorted. “Oh yeah. The joys of working in a team.”

  “I actually like it, but I think I’ve trodden on a few toes. There’s one guy, his name’s Brian. He’s probably fifty-something, and I think he’s worked there forever, but I have the sneaking suspicion that maybe he applied for my job and they chose me over him. He seems kinda put out by my being there and was a little bit snippy.”

  “What did he say to you?”

  “The usual ‘try and make me look bad in front of the boss’ kinda thing. He asked me what kind of management he could expect from me, while my boss was right there.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him I’d been profiled under ‘situational leadership.’ I prefer democratic, although I was laissez-faire by nature because I like to think my staff responsible enough that they could be left alone to do their jobs without being babysat. I didn’t expect anyone to do anything I wouldn’t do myself, but if they took advantage and were insubordinate or lazy, I could be a whole lot of autocratic. I told him if people did their jobs, we’d get along great. If they were to waste company time and money, they could finish up today.”

  He gasped. “You didn’t!”

  “I totally did. And Brian’s face was priceless. Like he’d smelt something really bad.” I laughed as I remembered his puckered pout. “But you know what? I think Brian and I will get along just fine. Now he knows that, yes, I might be young, but I’m good at what I do.”

  “Sure sounds like it.”

  “I had a good teacher. The best, actually.”

  “Me too. I had a store manager who took staffing seriously, and it really made a difference to where I ended up.”

  Dane talked about his first job and his horror boss, and I sat on the sofa with my feet up, Wicket at my thigh, stroking his fur. Then he told me how he started with Telstra and how he ended up being the store manager. It was a big job and one he wasn’t sure he could handle when he first started, but he had a good team around him and they made it pretty seamless.

  I could listen to him talk all night long.

  We somehow ended up talking about where we’d lived and the good and bad places we’d rented, where we went to school, our first jobs, and laughed at our childhood crushes.

  Apparently, me falling in love with Jimmy Neutron was funny.

  “Shut up!” I cried. “I like smart guys.”

  “He was animated!”

  I snorted. “That’s just a technicality.” He laughed some more. “Okay then, who was yours?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Joe Jonas.”

  “A Jonas brother?”

  “Just one. Though I will admit to teenage dreams of more than one brother starring in my fantasy. But that was just once and I can’t be held responsible for what my subconscious-self dreamt up when I was fifteen.”

  I laughed long and loud. But something struck me, a random memory from years ago—a drunk guy at a nightclub thought I looked like Joe Jonas. “So, you like guys with dark hair, dark eyes?”

  His chuckle became a hum. “Well, I can’t deny it. Yes.”

  “It just so happens that I have dark hair and dark eyes.”

  “I saw that,” he said, sounding amused. “From your photo.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. He clearly liked what he saw. “I don’t always have the windswept, sun-kissed, holding-a-puppy look,” I said, aiming for funny to defuse the awkwardness, or tension, or anticipation, or whatever the hell it was that made my heart clench. “Sometimes it’s suit pants, a business shirt, tie, and vest. Like today. Even my landlady did a double take.”

  It sounded like he ran his hand over his face. Did he like how that sounded too? “Is that your work uniform?”

  “Yeah. It’s pretty smart, but it’s not cargos and a faded T-shirt, that’s for sure.”

  “Sounds all right to me.”

  Oh yeah. I think he liked how that sounded too. There was nothing down the line except for the sound of our breaths. Okay, so it definitely wasn’t awkward. Which left tension and anticipation… My belly was full of butterflies.r />
  “Well,” he said, “I better let you go. Have a good second day at work tomorrow.”

  “Okay, yeah. You too… Well, I hope your course isn’t too boring.” Then I remembered. “Oh, I took some photos of Wicket at the park this afternoon. Want me to send them?”

  “Yes, please. If that’s okay.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “Okay then.” He paused, waiting for me to reply.

  “Okay then.”

  “Goodnight.”

  “Night.”

  I hit End Call and let the grin spread across my face. I let out a deep breath and a laugh, the excitement of new possibilities too big to hold in.

  I sent the photos of Wicket sniffing and rolling in the grass like I said I would. I left Wicket asleep on the couch, got ready for bed, and slid between the sheets. I didn’t dream of any Jonas brother, but Stephen Amell made a cameo appearance. His cute little dog was lost but I found him, and he asked me to look after him. I said I would. “What’s his name?” dream-me asked. He laughed a warm breathy sound that made me shiver, his eyes shone, and he slipped his hand into mine.

  But then Jimmy Neutron turned up and licked my face.

  I woke with a start and found that Jimmy Neutron wasn’t licking my face, Wicket was. Then I noticed it was daylight outside and I sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed my phone. Shit. I’d forgotten to set my alarm!

  Realising it was only ten past seven and I hadn’t missed work, I could finally breathe. “Need to go outside?” I asked Wicket.

  He grinned and jumped off my bed, already heading toward the door.

  That was all I needed. To be late on my second day after my spiel yesterday about leadership. Jeez. Wicket had saved my arse.

  I watched from the top of the stairs as he did his business, and like he could read my mind, he scooted back up toward me when I thought about having toast for breakfast.

  Work was great, and Neda left me alone longer, letting me find my feet. The day flew by, and I thought I even impressed Brian a little. He was probably expecting me to not have a clue what I was doing, having lied on my CV—because there was just no way a twenty-four-year-old could be a manager—but after a particularly prickly customer had spoken to Brian like he was a peasant and demanded free parking, I’d stood beside him and defended him and company policy. With a professional smile on my face and in a matter-of-fact tone, I set the woman straight but let him finish the transaction, all while staring at the now-tight-lipped woman with a smile.

  He handed her the room key, and she took her bags and ego and left.

  “Thanks,” he said quietly.

  “Anytime. Everything you did was right, but people will always try to get something for nothing. I don’t blame them for asking, but when the answer is no, I expect that to be the end of it.” I gave him a smile. “And if someone insists on something outside of policy, come get me. I’ll stand by what you tell them.”

  He gave a small nod, and I took it as a victory. By the time I got home, I was still in a good mood. I took Wicket for a run on the beach, and when I got back, Bernice and K were sitting at the patio table enjoying the last of the afternoon sun.

  “Hey,” I said, falling into a seat next to K.

  “Hey, to you,” he said. “Beer?”

  “Nah, I’m good, thanks.” I held up my water bottle. Then I looked at Bernice. “Thanks again for dog-sitting.”

  She waved me off. “He’s a joy. Truth be told, I’ll miss seeing his little hairy face.”

  K gave his beard a scratch. “Uh, hello? What about this hairy face.”

  Bernice rolled her eyes and smiled, and for a moment, we watched Wicket sniff in the garden, then go plonk himself down on the grass. “Yeah, I’ll miss him too,” I admitted.

  “When is he getting picked up?” Bernice asked.

  “Tomorrow, after work.”

  “Ah,” she nodded slowly. “You’re meeting the owner… the cute owner.”

  I tried not to smile and failed. “I am.”

  Bernice smiled knowingly at me. “Oh, we’re having chicken kebabs on the BBQ for dinner. Wanna join us?”

  “You know what?” I replied. “That sounds great. I have some rice salad in the fridge. I can bring it down?”

  “Even better,” K said.

  “Be a doll and turn the BBQ on,” Bernice said to K. She nodded toward the old BBQ and said, “She’s a bit like me. Old, she don’t work as well as she used to, and she takes a bit of get-going to warm up, but once she’s cookin’…”

  “She’s a cracker,” K finished for her. The way he looked at her made me glance away, like I was intruding on a private moment. They were an odd couple. They didn’t live together; K came and went on his old Harley, but he was here three or four evenings a week. He clearly adored her, and she him.

  I’d love to know what happened to her arm and what the scars from her neck to her bicep were from, but it was none of my business. But I could ask her about her tattoos. When we’d had dinner, I quickly stood and collected the plates. “I’ll just take these inside.”

  “Leave them on the sink,” Bernice called out. “I’ll take care of them.”

  I’d never been inside Bernice’s house before. Sure, I’d seen in through the glass sliding door but never paid it much attention. It was summery, tones of blue, white, and traces of yellow. It felt peaceful. The kitchen was to the left of the door, so I slid the plates into the sink as requested, then went and collected the trays and BBQ tongs as well. As I was walking back out, I noticed a surfboard on a stand in the corner of her living room and huge landscape photographs of the ocean hung on her walls.

  She seemed like a free-spirit, so when I sat back down, I nodded toward her full sleeve of now-aged tattoos. “I bet there’s some stories in that ink.”

  Bernice smiled and did that slow nod thing she quite often did. “A lot of stories.” And for a moment, I thought that was all she was going to say. Then she took a deep breath and sighed loudly. Not in a resigned way, but more of a wistful sound. “I had a misspent youth.”

  “Well-spent,” K corrected. He grinned proudly. “She was as wild as the ocean. Still is.”

  She shrugged. “Well, the mind is, but the body can’t quite keep up.”

  “You’ve lived an interesting life,” I said. Not that I knew, but I could sure guess.

  Bernice smirked, then pointed to certain tattoos on her arm. I couldn’t discern between the different markings. They’d kind of bled into each other with the help of gravity and time. “Got this one in Phuket. This one in Oaxaca. This one in Malibu.”

  I was stunned. “Wow.”

  Her smile was edged with a little pride and a little sadness. “I’ve been blessed.”

  She never mentioned the scars, but they felt like an elephant in the room to me. I did my best to ignore it and was saved by the beeping of my phone.

  It was Dane. Can you talk?

  That was odd. I replied, Sure.

  “Uh, I’m about to get a phone call,” I said, standing up. “Thank you, both, so much for dinner and the lovely company. Next time, I’ll wash up afterwards.”

  “Deal,” Bernice said. “We might play a bit of music later. We’ll try to keep it down.”

  “No problem. I like the 70s classics. Kate Bush, Fleetwood Mac, Led Zeppelin, Cold Chisel.”

  “Cold Chisel was the 80s,” K said.

  “Breakfast at Sweethearts came out in 1979,” I corrected him. He grinned at me, and I realised it was a test. I was just about to have a dig at him, but my phone rang. It was Dane. I waved them goodnight, called Wicket to come with me up the stairs, and answered my phone. “Hey. Everything okay?”

  “Uh, not really.”

  My heart sank, and any excitement I’d had about where things might have been heading between us sank with it.

  Chapter Six

  Dane

  * * *

  There was just silence on his end of the line. “Griffin?”

  “Yeah, I’m her
e. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing, really. I just woke up today certain it was Friday, thinking I’d see you tonight, only to be bitterly disappointed it’s only Thursday.”

  More silence. Then, “Oh. You asked if I could talk like you were gonna give me bad news.”

  I snorted. “No. I asked if you could talk so I wasn’t interrupting.” But then I realised my poor attempt at humour had made him worry. “Sorry. It’s nothing bad. Just that I was all excited about coming home but realised I had to wait another day.” He chuckled and I breathed an internal sigh of relief. “Didn’t interrupt anything, did I?” I asked.

  “No, I was just having dinner with my landlady and her boyfriend.”

  “You’ve mentioned her a bit,” I said.

  “I like her. She’s… interesting.”

  That was odd. “Interesting, how?”

  “Kinda like the grandma you always wished you had.”

  Grandma? Then I heard music start to play and he chuckled again. I couldn’t hear it well, but the intro was familiar. It sounded like Cold Chisel. “Something funny about Breakfast at Sweethearts?”

  He barked out a laugh. “No, not at all.”

  “Won’t your landlady get pissed if you play music at night?”

  “Uh, that is my landlady’s music you can hear.”

  Now it was me who laughed. “Doesn’t it piss you off?”

  “Nope. It’s not that loud, and it’s not too late. I don’t have the TV on anyway, so it’s like background music. Anyway, I put in a request for this. And maybe some Kate Bush.”

  “Eclectic requests.”

  “Eclectic tastes.”

  My laugh sounded happy. I sounded happy. “Hey,” I said. “It’s Thursday. Aren’t you supposed to be watching Arrow? Getting your Stephen Amell fix?”

  “I am getting my fix,” he replied. “I’m talking to him instead.”

  I rolled my eyes, which he obviously couldn’t see. “Very funny.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be watching The Walking Dead?”