Chapter 6 The Trainer
The Trainer
It isn’t just that next day that Liam is forced to continue training Teague.
It’s the whole next week.
And then the week after that.
Just how much training does one person need before he can finally manage things on his own?
Apparently with a guy as helpless and annoying as Teague, it could take a whole month.
That’s not the worst part. Liam is learning way more than he ever planned to about Teague Jenson.
For one, the guy is a sleep-freak, power-napping rag doll on his breaks.
He can fall asleep in any position, anywhere, in any configuration of limbs, neck, and furniture.
Liam once found the guy asleep during his break on a stack of cans, with his head bobbed to the side against the back of a rusty metal rack, tongue half-hanging out, one foot propped up on an overturned mop bucket.
It can almost be classified as a talent.
Another maddening fact about Teague is that he remembers next to nothing of what Liam teaches him. “Is this where this goes?” he asks yet again, hurrying up to Liam’s side one day with an armful of bananas.
And then: “Where do we keep the bottles of that weird cleaning stuff?” he asks another day, coming up to Liam with an eyebrow lifted and his lips pouting. “Not the usual green stuff, but the other-other green stuff?”
And another day: “I know you showed me already, but can you show me again how to change out the ink in that one thing?”
It doesn’t matter what it is. It doesn’t matter if it’s receipt printer ink, office ink, or the ink out of a damned octopus’s asshole. Teague will have a question about it, and Liam will be the first person he runs up to, pestering him for an answer.
There is another thing Liam learns about Teague, too.
Liam is in the frozen aisle refilling an empty shelf of ice cream one day when he hears a child crying out two aisles over.
He sent Teague to the backroom to get something, so he’s alone as he listens to the loud, whiny wailing.
He sighs to himself, figuring it’s another one of those situations involving mommy not allowing a little someone to have the box of Little Debbie treats they want.
Liam closes the freezer door and comes around the corner of the aisle to investigate.
What he finds is Teague crouched down next to the child.
“You lost, little guy?” he asks. The child, all snot and sniffles and puffy eyes, nods.
“You here with Mommy?” The child nods again.
“Mmm, y’know what? I bet she’s in the candy aisle picking you out something sweet.
Should we check?” The child’s answer is wiping the entire length of his arm across his wet, dripping nose.
Teague seems entirely unfazed as he accepts that for a yes, then takes the kid’s hand (snot and all) and walks off.
“Mommy …?” Teague calls out. “Mommy, are you there? Hey, little buddy, want to help me out? We’ll find her quicker if you help me.
Try calling out ‘mommy’ in your funniest voice.
Can you do that? Do you know what a duck sounds like?
Mommy-mommy, quack-quack!” Inexplicably, the little boy laughs through his tears as the two of them turn the corner.
Liam watched the whole exchange from the other end of the aisle, utterly mystified.
And oddly touched.
He’s never seen this side of Teague before.
“Ugh, remember who he is,” mutters Liam to himself.
Of course Teague is on a mission to find the mother; he’s probably just hoping the woman is a total babe.
And if she’s not, then he’ll enjoy the meager consolation prize of being proclaimed a hero for the day.
Everyone will be talking about it. That sounds exactly in line with what should be expected from an egomaniac like Teague.
But Liam can’t help wondering if he’s got the whole thing wrong.
Does he really know Teague at all?
It’s a Saturday afternoon just an hour before his shift is over when Liam is approached once again by a confused-faced Teague.
“I just don’t get it,” he complains as he turns the jar over and over, showing Liam.
“What in the heck does this weird expiration date mean? Last time I checked, there aren’t fifteen months in a year. ”
Teague is standing very close to Liam. Yes, Liam notices. His whole body notices. “You’re reading it wrong.”
“Is it a code or something? I saw a bottle of mayo—or maybe it was relish?—that had an expiration day of C1. What in the ever-living crap is ‘C1’? Why’s it have to be a riddle?”
Liam can even smell Teague’s vexingly appealing deodorant. Again. “It isn’t a riddle.”
“Then what is it?”
Liam points at the number fifteen. “This isn’t the month.
It’s the day. The month is here,” he says, jabbing a finger at the seven.
“Zero-seven, for July. So 1507 is July 15, with the year right next to it. The C1 on the other bottle you mentioned is likely hexadecimal, which converts to 193, if my math is right, which probably refers to the day of the year—the 193rd day—which is roughly the middle of July as well.”
Teague turns his face to Liam, astounded. “You’re smart.”
Liam gazes back at him.
Their faces are always too close. Is this another one of his clever social skills? Standing too close to someone? Making them feel like the only human being that exists on the whole planet?
“Why do they have to beat around the bush like that?” asks Teague, a touch quieter. “Isn’t it better for the customers to just … get the date without all the confusing math?”
Liam finds himself disarmed utterly by their close proximity. “I … I don’t know.”
“Why’s it so difficult to just …” Teague’s lips are parted as he thinks. Liam’s eyes drop to them, lost in the sonic landscape of Teague’s smooth, melodic voice. “… say whatever it is … clearly?”
Liam tries to repeat himself, yet those three simple words—I don’t know—seem utterly unable to come out. His throat chokes them right back down, not daring to free them.
“Isn’t everyone tired of …” Teague’s handsome face contorts. Is it growing even closer to Liam’s? “… playing games?”
It’s suddenly too much.
Liam takes a step back, heel kicking against something. “I said I don’t know,” he answers somewhat tersely. “I guess you’ll have to … to write them a fucking letter or something.” He slaps the jar back into Teague’s palm, startling him, then turns and leaves.
Liam pushes through the swinging doors, nearly crashes into a stack of boxes, trips over his own foot and barely avoids falling flat on his face—damn his nervous clumsiness—then manages at last to slip into the employee bathroom where it’s silent.
He locks the door, sits on the cold, blank toilet seat, and stares emptily at the featureless wall across from him.
His heart drums frantically in his chest, out of control.
Isn’t everyone tired of … playing games?
Liam aggressively rubs his head, as if to dislodge Teague’s voice from his sticky brain.
But even being freed from the voice, he’s still trapped with the image of Teague’s face so close to his own.
Teague’s funny-shaped lips parted and plush.
The intensity of his warm chocolate eyes.
How the flush of Teague’s cheeks seemed to burn like furnaces the closer their faces grew.
What in the hell is happening?
Liam keeps the door locked long after he’s relieved himself and washed his hands and taps away on his phone to his only solace this summer.
TongueTiedInKnots
I need someone to make me smile. Is your lightning-farting butt a Zeus reference?
Liam is surprised to find the message quickly read, followed by the dancing dots of a reply.
Hate2LoveU
It should be! Are you feeling down, Fireball?
Liam smiles. Already, he feels a dozen times better. He gives a few breadcrumbs about his day without saying too much—feeling overworked, underappreciated, and dealing with an infuriating jerk in the workplace—and then apologizing in his usual way for sounding so whiny.
Hate2LoveU
You don’t sound whiny at all. You want to hear whiny? Let me introduce you to my dad. He complains about his life all the time. And also about my life. He thinks I’m worthless.
Liam stiffens up, surprised. How could anyone think this guy is worthless? To Liam, he’s like a shining knight in a sea of bitter darkness, leading him safely to the other side of the underworld of his day-to-day life.
TongueTiedInKnots
Don’t let him bring you down. You’re not worthless. In just our short time getting to know each other, I know you’ve got a big heart and a good head on your shoulders.
Hate2LoveU
Don’t forget the lightning-farting ass!
Liam laughs out loud, grinning, then leans back against the wall next to the mirror, typing away.
TongueTiedInKnots
You make jokes, but I know you’re a good guy.
There’s a pause after the message is read. Liam can imagine in a thousand ways what this Hate2LoveU might look like as he feels Liam’s message, letting him touch him. Liam sure does hope it’s touching him. He wants him to feel good in the same way he helps Liam feel good.
Hate2LoveU
You’re not a bad one either, Fireball.
A knock at the door. Liam looks up. “Just a minute,” he says, which is promptly responded to with: “I don’t got a minute, dude, I got a lot less than that before somethin’ bad happens on this side of the door!
” It’s one of the cashiers, Elliott from the sound of it.
“I need in. Like, right now.” The door rattles from him shaking the handle.
“Why’s this dang thing locked? Mother lovin’ … ”
With a smile he can’t wipe off his face, Liam quickly tells his favorite person on the planet that he’s got to get back to work, then pockets his phone and heads off.
It was exactly what he needed. As usual, Hate2LoveU lifts his spirits and sends him back into his day with a lighter step.
Liam is humming a tune to himself as he restocks a shelf.
He’s bobbing his head to the song playing over the intercom radio as he checks on the displays in the front and helps with a spill by the front doors.
Even when Teague has a needy moment of not remembering how to unlock a challenging cabinet by the bakery, Liam does so with a lightness to his every movement, which even seems to catch his alleged trainee off-guard.
“You’re in a sudden good mood,” he says with a smile, to which Liam replies, “And it has entirely nothing to do with you,” then whistles as he saunters away, cabinet unlocked.
The good mood lasts for exactly twenty-eight minutes.
It’s on the twenty-ninth minute that he’s caught by a chipper Mr. Michelson by the cash registers.
“Liam, can I have you do me a favor and run a quick errand out to Gary’s ranch?
We’re running low on produce and they’re preparing an order for us.
It’s a fairly big order, so you’ll need an extra set of hands—”
“And a truck!” puts in Teague excitedly, appearing so quickly out of thin air that it makes Liam jump. “I can drive.”
Liam crosses his arms stiffly. “I can pick up the order myself, Mr. Michelson.”
“Oh, I’ve seen your car,” says Teague with an annoying nudge into Liam’s ribs, “and figuring how big our order might be, it won’t fit. My whole bed is clear, clean, and ready to Freddy.”
“What in the heck does ‘ready to Freddy’ mean??” blurts Liam before he can stop himself.
Mr. Michelson, taking this back-and-forth to be just friendly banter, chuckles lightly and nods. “I’ll reimburse you both a little extra if you grab an order for Nadine’s restaurant, too, if you have the space in your truck, Mr. Jenson.”
“Sure do!” he exclaims. Liam is sputtering for a reason to stop this train from leaving the station. “Just leave it to us! We’ll take care of your errands!”
The boys each earn one of Mr. Michelson’s big hands on their shoulders, giving them a squeeze. “I knew I could count on y’all!”