23. Second Skin
23
Second Skin
After watching a different classic horror movie for a bit, I had to go back for my closing shift. I snuck out of the theater and surveyed the area for Victor. This time, I hesitated to ask the widow animatronic for his location. What if she was actually possessed and pointed him out again? The less I bothered with haunted shit, the better. I texted him instead.
Me: Hey, where are you? I can return your jacket before I head back [black heart emoji]
Hopefully, the heart emoji wasn’t too much. I also wanted give him a kiss.
Victor: I’ll come get it from you at the end of my shift. Or you can come to me, depending on who gets out first.
Nice. So, I’d get to see him again today. I slipped into his jacket and popped the Dracula collar to warm my ears. This was so him. I chuckled and sipped my refilled cup on the way back to Hot Contra. The coat billowed behind me like a cape. No wonder he had so much confidence. In this jacket, I was a badass bitch.
I guessed I was always a badass bitch. This outfit emphasized it.
I steeled myself with a smile and breezed into the store. “Hey, fam.”
“Hey.” AJ lifted his hand, then quickly tried to balance a stack of costumes.
Bree slid off the counter. At least she tried to hide she’d been sitting on it.
Something seemed weird, though. I set my drink in my office, then came back out to the sound of plastic rustling and hangers clanging. “Why’s the music off?”
Bree crossed her arms.
AJ hesitated and sent her a long look. “Uh, it was giving her a headache,” he said.
I nodded. “Ah, yes.” Because somehow, her hangover trumped best business practices. “Bree, would you step into my office?”
She sighed and dragged her feet.
Why was she acting thirteen instead of twenty-three? This girl desperately needed some boundaries, like Victor said. I had to implement them.
I stopped her at the door to my office. “Why don’t you take a second to gather yourself before we begin?” I warned her somewhat nicely.
Her mouth hung open.
Thankfully, the implication seemed to sink in: Get your shit together, Bree.
She twisted her hair, then stomped into the office. I closed the door behind us and strode to my desk. “How are you feeling?” I asked.
“Fine.” She flexed her neck and shoulders. Was she uncomfortable with the lie or was she tense when playing nice?
I crossed my legs. “I want you to succeed, Bree.”
She arched her eyebrow.
I narrowed my gaze and clasped my hands over my knee. “Do you not believe me?”
She shrugged. “You’re not going to root for me to take your job.”
I had to stop myself from laughing. Did she think this was a competition? If it was, I’d have already crossed the finish line when I got the promotion. Still, I tried to be diplomatic. “Is management still something you’re considering?”
“Yeah, obviously,” she said.
“Well, I can help you set goals to get you there. Showing up to shifts on time is kind of a priority for the people who run things,” I reasoned.
“I was sick.” She scoffed.
“I know what you are.” And I wasn’t afraid to call her out on it. Rocking my chair from side to side, I let the truth simmer. Our silence pounded out in heartbeats. The more she glowered, the more my resolve steadied.
We weren’t friends anymore. We couldn’t be, if I wanted her to respect me, if I wanted either of us to truly succeed.
She sniffled and rubbed her nose. “I am sick. And I still came in. Doesn’t that say anything?”
Still not ready to take responsibility, then?
I turned to my computer and pulled up her time chart. “It’s not about sick days or five minutes or even hours, here or there. Look at this chart. Everything yellow is where you were late. Or left early.”
Her brow furrowed and she shook her head at the broken yellow brick wall motif.
I tapped the screen. “I didn’t color this in, Bree. That’s the system. Higher ups look at stuff like that. Especially when it comes to promotions and bonuses.”
She huffed and raised her shoulders. “So, what? I’m not a manager because I came in a few minutes late?”
“There are lots of reasons,” I chided. “And lots of locations you could be transferred upon promotion. So, let’s address the issues and see where to go from there.”
She recoiled with a haughty laugh. “Wh-what are you talking about? I’ve been here for years. I was up for the same promotion as you, and I don’t have issues.”
It took all my effort not to roll my eyes. Instead, I counted off on my fingers. “You lie about why you’re tardy, you disregard store guidelines, your attitude ranges from hostile to sullen lately, and you talk badly about other employees during the shift.”
She closed in on herself. “If this is about the ‘bitching’ thing—”
“You called Willow a baby, you hit AJ in the face with a sweater without an apology, and you’re constantly talking back to me. Among other things. Which is why I’m writing you up, finally,” I snapped.
Her eyes glazed with shocked tears.
Shit. I hadn’t meant to make her cry.
I inhaled deeply and unclenched my jaw. “Maybe part of this is my fault for not establishing stronger boundaries. I know we were friends, and you wanted this job, but I need to be able to trust you as an employee.”
She looked away and wiped her nose.
I hated seeing her so weak. “Do you still want to be here, Bree?” I asked gently.
“Yes,” she muttered.
“Then we need to change some things, including our attitudes,” I said.
She nodded.
“Good. I’m glad we’re on the same page.” I wrote her up and had her sign the paperwork suggesting a plan of action.
Her gaze flicked to the cup on my desk, then lingered just below my neck.
I played with the collar. “What?” She couldn’t possibly be distracted by my bite mark anymore.
“Nothing. That’s a really cool jacket. Where’d you get it?” she asked, her tone an odd mix of chipper and flat.
I rubbed the material. “A friend.”
“Cool friend.” Her cheeks twitched with a smile.
“Thanks.” I liked him.
Unsettled by her Stepford, dead-eyed cheeriness, I dismissed her to the sales floor. “And send AJ in,” I said.
“Oh, AJ,” she trilled. “You’re next.”
She skipped off and AJ awkwardly shuffled in. “Hey, boss," he said.
I let out a breath and gestured to the chair. “Hey. This should be quick.”
“Yeah, bet.” He adjusted his glasses and sat, leaning forward. At least he was clearly open to listening.
“You’re a nice guy,” I said. “You take great care of our guests. You keep busy when you could relax. I appreciate all of that. But we have to follow store guidelines. If Bree has a headache, she needs to pop an Advil and talk to me about accommodations.”
He held out his hands. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought if she was sick, we could switch it up.”
“I know. And I love that you’re picking up slack.” I saw a little bit of myself in him on some occasions. “Maybe one day you’ll make a good manager.”
His grin lit up the room. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I bet he wouldn’t ‘bitch’ at employees. Although I wasn’t sure he had the guts to put boundaries up yet. “If and when you’re interested in setting goals for that, let me know, and I’ll help you out. Oh, also, I’m sorry for complaining to you this morning. That was pretty unprofessional.”
AJ flushed. “You can talk to me.”
“Not like that,” I admitted. “Let’s keep up the good work, yeah?”
“Yeah.” He smiled, pushing his knees and hopping to his feet. “You’ve got it boss.”
We tapped fists.
We weren’t friends. But we shared respect. I’d call that a success.
Once he bounded out, I got back to business, which meant scheduling. It would be silly to put Bree on a morning shift again so soon. But I needed my breaks too. I usually prioritized everyone else’s schedule. Maybe this week, I could do something else nice for me.
I glanced at my phone.
I knew who I wanted to see. What I wanted to do. I rubbed the jacket for luck and sent a text.
Me: You wanted me to stalk you right? Let’s talk schedules. Maybe we can hook up in daylight for once [smiling devil emoji]
It wasn’t the most romantic message, but it was brave enough.
Music crooned through the speakers as my phone lit up with his reply.
It was just the praying hands emoji. To me, it read: Please . I beg. He wanted this too.
I grinned and stroked his jacket, reveling in the strength of this second skin.