6. Chapter Five
Chapter Five
"Wow, you actually managed to get here on time," Marco snorts sarcastically as I enter the warehouse.
"Lucky for you, the rain has stopped so the water has rescinded slightly," I bite back, shoving my shit into the locker.
"Lucky for me?" he repeats, letting out a laugh. "Please. I sign your paychecks, Lana."
I slam the locker closed, turning to face him. "It's Skylar, Marco. You're not being funny by deliberately getting it wrong."
"Wow, you're in a mood. Must be that time of the month," he shoots back, stalking off to his office.
I wait for him to leave, muttering a curse under my breath. Men who use periods as an attack are the lowest kind of scum. It's no wonder he's single. He's utterly repulsive.
Realizing I have no idea where I need to head today, I can only assume it's the damn bridal section again. I don't bother to ask him, instead just heading there with my head held high.
Surprisingly, it doesn't bother me too much today. I'm in a good mood.
My car is currently at Wheatley's being assessed. As much as I'm nervous about costs, at least I won't get a fine from the police. And the window can be put back up.
Blaise was kind enough to drive me to work, but he gave me a lecture about quitting. I had to stop him from coming inside the warehouse to see Marco for himself. It was funny to see, putting me in a good mood for the shift.
And most of all… I have a dinner date this evening.
It worked out really well. Since the rain has stopped, Nathan is heading over to our house tonight to see Blaise. I'm sure they will both be relieved to be able to have some peace and quiet without me invading their space.
I can't remember the last time I had a first date. They always make me nervous. It would have been Jake, but we had already met at the local tavern one night. We had spent hours talking and playing darts before I finally gave him my number. But this feels different.
Jordan saw a really rough side of me — the drowned version. And if our text messages are any indication of the chemistry we might have in person under normal circumstances, I'm excited.
I may have gone to bed late again last night. But we started playing a little game of twenty questions, and I was eager to learn more about him before our date.
Turns out he works in the corporate world, working as a manager who oversees several offices for a large accounting firm. He partially works from home, but also travels around the area to work onsite when doing office visits. Thankfully, with all the rain, he was back home in St. Devil's Creek. He was meant to be in another town this week about half hour away, but the wild weather literally put him in my direction.
I like to think that life has a funny way about divine intervention. Even if the date goes terribly wrong, he was where I needed him to be when I tested a new career path as a submarine driver.
The bridal section looks almost identical to how I left it two days ago. I'm not surprised though — we are dangerously understaffed. It's like a revolving door here and there's an obvious key reason for that…
I get started on my work, putting my playlist on as I decorate myself in glitter again.
Everything goes well, with the shift passing by quickly, until Marco decides to come back for round two.
"What are you doing in the bridal section?" he snarls, looking at the boxes surrounding me.
"Working," I retort back. "Why?"
He lifts his head up, a flare of arrogance smelling up the room. "I wanted you in another section today. Now we're going to be behind so you'll have to stay back."
Putting the scanner down gently, I turn my attention to him. "And where was I supposed to be?"
There's a brief flash of panic in his eyes as he tries to think of a random department. Let's be honest — we both know I was scheduled for the bridal department again. He just hates that it's not affecting me like he wanted.
"The kitchen appliances," he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.
Ahh. The misogynistic man wants me in the kitchen. How shocking.
"Well, like you said, we're short staffed," I start. "And we're behind in bridal, so I think I'm doing you a favor. Perhaps, you could go into the kitchen section and sort it out."
First rule of 'alpha men': Never tell them to go into the kitchen. That's a land of forbidden sandwiches.
"I'm the owner and manager," he spits back, reminding me of my place. "I don't pack boxes. That's your job."
I laugh. "Maybe you should pay your staff better and you'd have better luck at not being understaffed."
"I could fire you," he threatens. "For insubordination and talking back. You need to respect me."
Crossing my arms, I challenge my inner-Blaise. "I don't need to do shit, Marco. Like you said, we're understaffed. You need me way more than I need you. If you want to fire me, then go right ahead. And I'm not staying back. I have plans."
I wait for his reply, calling his bluff. He considers it for a moment, jaw twitching at my sheer audacity to defy him.
"I expect you back here tomorrow for another shift," he finally barks out, turning on his heel and leaving.
Rolling my eyes, I continue packing orders, shaking my head. Every shift, Blaise's offer is looking more enticing.
"How was it?" Blaise asks as I slide into the passenger seat. "Did you tell him to fuck off?"
"Kind of," I tell him, much to his surprise. "He threatened to fire me."
Blaise slams his hands on the steering wheel in shock. "Wait… you actually gave him attitude? I'm so proud."
"I think I need a Xanax now," I groan, clicking my seatbelt into place. "My heart is still racing from doing it. I hate confrontation so much."
We exit the parking lot, my eyes wearily checking the water levels as we cruise back home.
"But at least he knows you're not a pushover," Blaise praises. "Good for you."
I nod. "He wanted me to work late but I said no."
"Ooh, yes. The hot date with your rescue man," Blaise grins. "What time is he picking you up?"
Turning my face away from him to hide my awkwardness, I tap my fingers on my knee. "6pm. He's working until 5pm. What time is Nathan heading over?"
"He'll be over around 5:30pm. We'll order some takeaway and watch a movie. Am I expecting you home tonight?"
My neck cracks with how fast I turn to look at him. "Why wouldn't you? It's just a first date. Nothing is going to happen."
"Okay," he says defensively. "I was just checking."
"People don't have sex on the first date, Blaise," I argue. "Isn't there like a three date golden rule or something?"
He nods slowly. "Sure… a few decades ago. Welcome to the new era, sweetheart. I'd probably shave just in case."
I look at my legs. "They aren't too bad."
"I wasn't referring to your legs," he mutters under his breath. My mouth drops as I slap his arm.
"Stop it. Focus on your own date."
Blaise grins at me before turning his eyes back to the road. "Why do you think I said it? I'm always prepared."
"I don't know what to wear…" I mutter to myself, flinging clothes across the room. "Do I wear a dress? You're supposed to wear a dress to dinner. But it's freezing. I can't wear jeans, can I? Fuck!"
The door creaks open, Blaise's voice scaring me. "Are you talking to yourself again?"
"AHH!" I accidentally fling a cardigan at him, whacking him in the face. "Don't do that!"
"Far out. You're in a panic again," he says, brushing the cardigan to the floor. "You've already met the guy. Chill out."
My hands poise themselves on my hips. "I can't. I don't remember how to date properly. I'm old and decrepit."
"Easy," he replies in a warning tone. "We're the same age."
"Yeah, it's easy for you. You already have a boyfriend. This might be my only chance and I could blow it."
Blaise snorts. "If you blow something, you could go either way."
Dropping my hands and my face, I glare at him. "You're not helping. Out."
"Alright," he says with a laugh. "But wear a dress. It will accentuate your figure."
I watch as he leaves the room, closing the door behind him. A dress? I guess I could wear pantyhose with it and a nice jacket.
Fishing through my dresses, I grab a simple black dress with spaghetti straps. I lay it on the bed, searching for pantyhose when I come across some lingerie I had purchased for Jake. It's just a modest bra and panty set, with a garter to hold up thigh high stockings. I only ever wore it once because when I showed him, he laughed, telling me it reminded him of holiday ham with all the lace and straps. It was enough for me to shove it back into the drawer and never look at it again. I had thought I looked amazing in it, but he made me doubt myself.
Do it. Fucking do it…
Closing the drawer, I shake my head, venturing into the bathroom. I couldn't wear it.
Could I?
I take a quick shower, reluctantly shaving as a precaution. I have no expectations of anything, but I at least deserve to feel good tonight.
When I'm finished, I hastily run back to my bedroom, hearing Nathan's voice at the front door. Slamming my bedroom door closed, I shift through my underwear selection again, my fingers brushing over the lingerie.
It's a matching set. I should at least keep it consistent.
I pull out the bra and panties, opting not to wear the garter or suspenders. The stockings have a sticky band to hold themselves up around my thighs, so I say a silent prayer that they don't roll down, slipping the undergarments on.
Wiggling into the dress, I take a quick look in the mirror, impressed with what I see. I don't look half-bad. Once I sort out my hair and makeup, I think I'll look quite nice.
Checking the time, I rush as best as I can with applying some makeup — highlighting my eyes with winged liner, mascara and blue eyeshadow. I always choose green or blue eyeshadow to make my green eyes pop, before throwing a brush through my hair.
My blonde hair is quite long, reaching mid-back. I leave it out, slipping the cardigan I had flung at Blaise over my shoulders.
I'm not sure I trust stilettos right now, so I grab a pair of black knee-high boots, slipping them on right as I hear a knock at the door. It's muffled from my bedroom but I panic again, realizing that since Nathan is already here, it has to be Jordan.
"Fuck… fuck," I mutter, taking a deep breath. "You can do this."
"Skylar!" Blaise calls out, making me cringe.
I should have warned Jordan that he was rolling up to my house and meeting two other guys. He probably already thinks I live in a damn frat house.
Collecting my cell and purse, I walk out of the bedroom and head to the front door.
I spot Nathan first, lingering awkwardly behind Blaise. He gives me the side-eye, but also a brief smile — probably happy for the opportunity to have alone time with his partner.
As I step out from the hallway, my eyes immediately find Jordan at the front door. I let out a sigh of relief to find he's dressed up too — wearing a dark blue suit with a white button-up shirt underneath. The jacket is open and there's no tie, making me relax a little at his composure.
"Wow," he breathes out, spotting me. "I was wondering what version I'd get."
I laugh, the nerves already vanishing. "I decide to retire the drowned siren look for tonight. I've probably already traumatized you enough."
Jordan grins, putting his hand in his jacket pocket. "Both looks are intriguing and I'm honored for the variety."
Glancing down, I finally take notice of Blaise. He gives me a quick wink of approval, nodding his head towards the door.
"Off you go," he ushers. "Enjoy yourself."
"Thanks," I smile. "You too. See you, Nathan," I add, trying to make him feel included.
Nathan gives a little half wave, the door closing behind me as I step out onto the porch.
Jordan offers me his elbow, which for a second, confuses me. I gingerly take it, letting him walk me down the steps and pathway.
I spot his Durango waiting for us, the nerves back, hindering me from speaking.
"I hope you're hungry," he says, opening the passenger side door for me. "I know I am."