by Sarah Peis
“You didn’t exactly imply I wasn’t allowed to do anything else. You just said watch the phones. That doesn’t mean I can’t do a little cleaning. Or filing. When was the last time you opened that filing cabinet? And do you mind if I file everything by last name?”
I remembered the list on my desk and picked it up. “Before I forget, this is the list of calls you need to answer.”
He took the piece of paper out of my hand and without another word stomped out, slamming the door behind him. Unbelievable. I was doing him a favor. We all knew how quickly people sued these days.
Deciding not to dwell on his ungrateful ass, I went about cleaning the kitchen. It didn’t take as long as the office and was less disgusting than expected. The phone only rang a few times during the afternoon, and by the time I was done for the day, my back was aching and I was ready to go home.
Since I didn’t know how long I was supposed to work, I went into the garage to find Jameson.
Landon was working in the bay closest to the door, and I walked over.
“Hey, Landon, do you know where Jameson is?”
“He left.”
“He left? But he can’t just leave. I still have messages for him. And I don’t know how long I’m supposed to work for. Does that mean I can just go home?” Please let it mean I can get home and forget I ever started working at Drake’s.
“The office usually stays open till five. You can keep working after that to do the filing and other shit, but you only need to answer the phones until then. Seeing as it’s seven already, you should go home. He won’t be back today.”
“Motherfucker.” It just came out. I had no control over my mouth.
Landon heard me and laughed. “I think you’ll fit in just fine. You might even last for a little while. The record currently stands at eight days. Think you can beat that?”
That sounded like a challenge to me. “You can bet your perfect ass that I can beat that.” Little did they know I also didn’t have much of a choice. It was either working here or owing Jameson a lot of money.
I waved at Landon and Clay, grabbed my bag out of the office, and got on my bike to start my long trek home. I made it in an hour and fell into my bed, fully clothed. I didn’t even bother to take my shoes off.
I hated pastry sheets. I really did. They were slippery little fuckers. I never got them shaped right, and in the end, everything fell apart. My frustration levels were at an all-time high, and I had consumed four cups of coffee in the last two hours. Don’t judge, it was an emergency. I normally stopped at three cups; the fourth always seemed to push me over the edge.
Today was no exception. I was unable to stand still, and my hands were shaky. I should eat something. Or maybe drink a glass of water. Oooooh, delicious cupcakes. Aunt Rayna won’t notice if I just ate one.
Of course I was caught in the act, the cupcake half eaten when Rayna came back from her morning errands. She took one look at me and grinned. “Too much coffee?”
I nodded and stuffed the rest of the amazing cupcake in my mouth.
“I’ll make you a sandwich. But only if you clean up your mess.” She pointed to the bench I usually worked on and pulled out a loaf of bread. If Rayna offered to make you a sandwich, you did whatever she requested. She was not only an amazing baker but a kick-ass cook and sandwich maker. The lady was gifted. She was also my favorite—and only—aunt. She was my rock when Dad was at his lowest and the person who held me together when Mom died.
Rayna was mom’s sister. The two were as close as sisters could get, despite their twenty-year age gap. I called her Aunt Rayna only when I wanted to piss her off, since she was only five years older than me. She was the surprise baby. My grandparents—her parents—died when she was twelve, and she moved in with us.
I took a look at the pastry massacre and swallowed the last of my cupcake. There wouldn’t be any croissants or pizza tarts on today’s menu. I had thoroughly messed them all up.
After I scrubbed the bench clean, I happily accepted my sandwich. It smelled delicious. My fingers were only a little twitchy, and I was almost able to stand still again.
“Thanks, Rayna, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Now let me show you how to work with puff pastry since you seem to have forgotten.”
She grabbed new sheets from the tray and started rolling them out. After a few practiced flicks of her hand, she had a perfectly shaped croissant laid out in front of her. She made it look so easy.
“Go already, I know you’ll be no use to me after that much caffeine. I’ll be monitoring your intake next time, young lady. I’m paying you to bake, not to make a mess.”
“Promise it won’t happen again. At least not this week.”
I kissed her cheek and flew out the door, my legs grateful to be moving in a direction instead of jumping in the same place.
I arrived at Drake’s Garage fifteen minutes early, a fact I loudly pointed out when I walked into the office. The very empty office with nobody around to share my moment of greatness.
I got busy making myself another cup of instant coffee—which was the brew of the misguided if you asked me—and started filing the huge pile of papers that were still on the desk.
Landon came in a little after twelve. “Willa, you came back.” He was grinning at me, his dimple showing. “And you managed to get through some of the filing. Impressive.”
I was so grateful for the distraction, I jumped up from my desk when I saw him and hugged him. He smelled of oil and soap, something I could get used to. His body was vibrating from the silent chuckles he was trying to hold back. He patted my back. “It can’t be that bad.”
I was about to tell him that there was nothing worse than the nonexistent filing system that Jameson had going on when the door opened again.
“Landon,” Jameson ground out, looking none too happy as usual. “Don’t you have work to do?”
“Just helping Willa get settled, boss man.” Landon the coward stepped back, and with a nod to Jameson and a wink at me, he left me alone with the Neanderthal.
“Stay away from my staff. I don’t need any drama at work,” Jameson said.
“Excuse me? What exactly are you implying?”
“I meant exactly what I said. Stay away from the guys.”
I was fuming mad, and he knew it since he took a step back after he saw my face. “I wasn’t coming on to anyone, you jerk. I was just glad someone took pity on me and checked that I hadn’t been smothered by all the paperwork yet.”
I wasn’t proud to admit this, but my voice was raised to an unprofessional level. The caffeine was still cruising through my veins, and I had been up since three in the morning after a restless night. “And I can hug whomever I want.” Take that, jackass.
Said jackass crossed his arms over his chest and scowled at me. “Well don’t. It’s unprofessional, and we don’t hug in this office. So I would appreciate it if you would refrain from doing so.”
“And what if I don’t?”
“You will stop hugging people in this office.”
Oh, but I so wasn’t done. “What are you gonna do? Fire me? How am I going to pay off the debt I owe you? We both know I don’t have the money.”
“Stop arguing. It’s a simple request. One that you should be able to follow.”
I was irrational. I knew this. I also knew that I should back down. It was a little inappropriate to hug people in the office, but I was a hugger. Every time I was upset, I hugged someone. Every time I was happy, I hugged someone. It was just the way I worked. And because I wasn’t ready to just let this go, I did what I did best. I screwed things up further.
I brushed past him and into the garage and went up to Landon who greeted me with a big smile. “Hey, little lady, what can I do for you?”
I walked right up to him and hugged him. He was surprised at first, but after his initial confusion, he put his big paws around me and hugged me back.
I could feel Jameson behind me, and his presence was confirmed
when I heard a loud “Fuck this shit.”
I walked up to Clay who was eyeing me warily and hugged him, too. He awkwardly patted my back, clearly uncomfortable with a hug from a near stranger.
The last person that was working at the garage was Jameson’s brother Mason. I had met him before, and he looked like a younger version of Jameson. We were in the same year at school, and he was always nice to me. When he saw me approach, he held out his arms, grinning wide. “If it isn’t Willa Montgomery pissing off my brother.”
I stepped into his outstretched arms, and he lifted me off my feet and spun me around. “Hey, Mason, how have you been?”
“What’s with the hugging?” he asked, amusement laced in his voice.
I looked over my shoulder at Jameson who was watching us with narrowed eyes. Take that, you jackass.
Mason shook his head at me. “He tell you hugging was inappropriate behavior in the workplace or some shit like that?”
“That’s exactly what he told me. So we are going to hug every day.” I was mighty proud of myself for thinking of that little gem.
“Don’t poke the bear, Willa.” Mason ruffled my hair. “But it sure will bring some life into this place.”
“You done with the Impala yet? They need it by this afternoon,” Jameson said, his voice barely more than a growl.
Mason shot me an apologetic glance. “Duty calls. I’ll try and drop in later so we can catch up.”
He turned back to the car he was working on, and I skipped back to the office. And my victory skip was even better when I felt Jameson’s eyes burning into my back the entire way.
I was still on a high when I made the decision to order a coffee machine. There was no way I could continue drinking that vile instant poison. I had two cups, and now I felt ill. Could also be due to the pizza I ate for lunch. The guys all dropped in to eat with me, something that was as unexpected as it was welcome. Jameson stayed away, but that wasn’t a surprise.
Clay bought the pizza because apparently he lost a bet. And since I was the reason he lost, the guys insisted they had to share their winnings with me.
“So, Willa, what do you do when you’re not trapped in this factory of awesomeness?” Clay asked me. His mohawk was spiked up today, and I loved it. I had to resist the urge to touch it. Despite the hugging, we were definitely not at the random hair-touching stage yet.
“I work at Sweet Dreams in the mornings and the Donut Hole at night. I also go to Winchester. Doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”
I looked up from my pizza and found them all staring at me. I shifted on my seat, uncomfortable with the sudden attention and not sure what I said wrong.
“You work three jobs?” Landon asked, blinking his big eyes at me.
“Two and a half. I’m at Sweet Dreams five days a week and the Donut Hole three nights. Sometimes more if they need me to help out.”
“That’s a lot of hours. I thought you were studying,” Clay said.
I shrugged. “I am studying. But I also have to pay the bills. I wasn’t planning on getting another job, though.”
Landon shook his head. “So why would you spend your summer, the only time you get to actually do what you want, working at this place? Don’t get me wrong, we desperately need a receptionist, but why would you agree to do it? Surely you can’t be that hard up for cash.”
“It’s complicated.” And there wasn’t a choice on whether or not I’d be working here. I got up and started cleaning the desk that was covered in pizza boxes. I was glad nobody asked more questions. After a scuffle on who got the last piece, they went back to the cars they were working on, and I was left with my paperwork. Goody.
I continued taking messages and cleaning the desk. After a few hours, I was so bored I would welcome any distraction, even if it came in the form of Jameson, which led me to the fateful decision to look up coffee machines online. I also got a hold of Mason’s credit card. He had handed it to me earlier, just in case I needed to order anything for the office.
The wall clock that now had brand-new batteries and was once again hanging up, thanks to yours truly, told me that it was already past six. I hadn’t seen Jameson since the hugging incident. I couldn’t really blame him. It was childish on my part, but I just continuously seemed to be losing my shit whenever he opened his mouth to yell at me. I left his messages on the desk, easy for him to find now that I’d filed away all the papers and gathered my things that I had spread all over the office.
I checked my phone for the first time today and saw that I had three missed calls from Uncle Des. He usually just left a message when I didn’t answer. My stomach tied itself in knots while I made up possible worst-case scenarios in my head. I just hoped Dad hadn’t borrowed a police car again. I didn’t think we could get him out of a charge this time.
Des picked up after the first ring. “Willa. Been tryna reach you all day, girl.”
“I was at work and just saw your missed calls. Is everything all right?”
“Tony called me.”
I groaned loudly, knowing where this was going. “Not again. Twice in one week? Really?”
“I would have picked him up, but I’m in Florida at that conference. Can you go get him?”
“Fine. Do I need to bail him out?”
“I put money in your account. Use it. I didn’t know you’d been paying his bail. You shoulda told me.”
The last thing I wanted to do was burden someone else with my problems, and bailing Dad out of jail was nobody else’s problem but mine. “It was nice of you to do that but not necessary.”
“Honey, ya gotta accept help every once in a while. Now stop bein’ so stubborn and take it, ’cause I don’t want it back.”
I knew I hit a brick wall when Des started handing out life advice. “Fine. I’ll use it.” I also didn’t have a choice since I was broke and had used my car as leverage last time I had to bail Dad out.
“Thanks, Killa. I’ll see you in two days. Oh, and if ya see one of the Martins, tell ’em their hedge is coming. I didn’t think things through when I drove to that nursery place on my scooter. The hedge wouldn’t fit, and they have to deliver it.”
We said our goodbyes and hung up. I was not looking forward to riding my bike out to the police station. It was over twenty miles.
Landon was coming out of the workshop as I was pulling out my bike from behind the tires. Uncle Des’s words still fresh in my mind, I decided this was a good time to swallow my misplaced pride and ask for help. “Hey, Landon, are you going up near Cook’s by any chance?”
“Sorry, Willa, I’m headed toward the lake. Live out there.”
“Okay, no problem. See you tomorrow.”
“I hope you’re not planning on riding your bike all that way. It’s a long way, and half of that is freeway.”
“I don’t think I have much of a choice seeing as there’s something wrong with my car.”
Landon came closer and raised his brows at me. “You do remember that you work at a garage, right? We fix cars here.”
“Huh, now that you mention it, I was wondering what all that noise out the back was.”
He tugged a strand of my hair and shook his head. “Bring it in tomorrow, and I’ll have a look at it.”
“Can’t. It’s not starting.”
Landon took his phone out of his pocket and held it out to me. “Put in your number and address, and I’ll get it towed.”
I didn’t waste any time doing as I was told, eager to get going since it would take me ages to get to the police station.
“Jameson is going over to Butler to get parts he ordered. He can drop you off on the way.”
“Oh no, that’s okay, I’ll just—”
“Yo, J, you still going to pick up those parts?”
Jameson came out of the garage and walked toward us. He had oil on his cheek, and I itched to swipe it off. “Sure am. Why? You need something from Butler?”
“Willa here needs a lift to Cook’s. Can you drop her off
on the way?”
Jameson fixed me with his beautiful eyes. Eyes that were wasted on a jackass like him. Even his lashes were long and full, every girl’s dream. And don’t get me started on his hair. I had an unhealthy relationship with it. It was dark and full and so shiny; I just wanted to sink my hands into it. Oh, the fun me and that hair could have. If only it wasn’t attached to jerkface. And of course there was the hair-touching issue again. Definitely too early for moves like that.
“Okay. I’m leaving in five,” he said, face expressionless as usual.
I didn’t get a chance to respond to either one of them since Jameson walked back inside the garage and Landon jumped in his car. After a wave in my direction, he took off with squealing tires.
I stood next to my bike, not sure if I should be excited that I was about to be stuck with Jameson or scared out of my white cotton panties with pink elephants. As soon as Jameson came back out and walked to his car, not sparing me one glance, I decided to go with option number two.
My bike was so old, the heavy frame wasn’t just a pain to ride on, it was also too heavy for me to lift. But that’s exactly what I would have to do to get the demon mobile on the bed of Jameson’s truck.
I stopped in front of the back tailgate and opened it. Step one complete. I then proceeded to lift the front end high enough to rest on the edge of the open tailgate. I was huffing at that stage, cursing the fact that I never lifted weights. Or went to the gym.
Before I could execute the next step, two big arms appeared in my vision. “I’ve got it,” Jameson’s gruff voice told me, and I stepped back. I wasn’t going to be stubborn and demand to do it myself. Because I knew without a doubt I wouldn’t be able to. Before he offered his help, I had been close to becoming a headline in the papers. Beautiful life cut short by demon bike.
“Thanks,” I said, watching him lift the demon machine onto the back of his car without so much as taking a deep breath. One lift of his big bulky arms, and it was done.
We got in the car, and that’s when things got awkward.
But really, what did I expect? He liked to talk in grunts and didn’t know the meaning of the word “manners.” I did my best to ignore smelling his damn soap that lingered on his skin. And that was even after a day of working at the garage. I really did try.
