Chapter 41 #2
When I push open the door to their storage room, I hear a loud, repeated pounding.
Moving around two sets of shelves, I can see Bobby’s back.
He’s sitting at their break table, slamming his hand up and down.
In his hand, he’s holding a knife. The knife is being repeatedly slammed into the table top.
I gasp, and he turns to face me, still clutching the knife in his right hand.
“Get out!” he shouts.
“Bobby? I—”
“Get out! I don’t ever want to talk to you again, M-MacKenzie,” he stutters. “I was trying to protect you.”
“Bobby, please?” I’m begging. “Please calm down. I’m sorry I forgot—”
“Get out!” he screeches. He hasn’t moved out of the chair; I don’t feel threatened. Still, the sight of him is unnerving. He’s red-faced and sweating. I can see his anger, but I can also see how hurt he is.
A teardrop slips down my cheek. “Bobby. I’m really sorry.”
He takes deep, panting breaths. “Go. Just go,” he says, sounding somewhat calmer.
I nod and move out of the stockroom and into the store. Sam is waiting for me at the entry. I wipe away a tear. “He hates me.”
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes. Yes, he does, Sam. He hates m-me,” I stutter, and more tears fall. I did consider Bobby a friend, even if we weren’t really close.
Sam wraps his arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “Let’s go to lunch. Food will make you feel better.”
I know I should tell him about the knife. However, knowing Sam, he’d overreact and get all macho on Bobby’s ass. I don’t need that right now, and neither does Bobby.
I sniffle. I look up at him and roll my eyes. “Will you ever stop talking about me and food? I’m getting a complex.”
“Sorry, sweetheart. I love that you eat. I’ll always love that you eat—we may have to meet in the middle on that point.”
I take a deep breath and wipe the last tear from my eye. “Whatever,” I grumble, still not completely happy with his comments.
As Sam leads me out of the store, I ask, “Listen, I’m trying to get a handle on all these feelings I have about you. I’m in uncharted waters. I really need you to cut me some slack.”
“Feelings? Are you catching feelings for me, Sam Stone?” I tease, still doing my best to shake the scene with Bobby out of my head.
He chuckles. “Yeah, I’m catching feelings for you, MacKenzie Parker.”
We walk to a nearby deli. I order a turkey Reuben on whole wheat while Sam orders some sort of healthy wrap.
It’s mostly vegetables. Maybe I should have gotten something like that.
Maybe then my butt wouldn’t be so… badonk-a-donkish.
I shrug to myself and bite into my delicious sandwich.
“Mm, good.” I grab a chip and take a bite, making a loud crunching sound.
I look up and see Sam smiling at me. “If you say one word about the way I eat, I swear I’ll punch you, Sam. ”
He throws his head back and laughs. “I promise I won’t. I just missed you—that’s all.”
“I’ll bet,” I grumble as I take another bite. I watch him eat his wrap. He reaches to take one of my chips, and I’m tempted to slap his hand away. Instead, I turn the bag toward him to share. See, I can be nice. We chew in companionable silence.
Luckily, he finishes first and sips his bottle of water as I eat. “So, I’ve got this famous client this week.”
“You do?”
“Yep, it’s Shyanne.”
“Seriously?” I squeak. “I love her music. It’s so peppy.”
He chuckles. “Peppy, huh?”
I nod.
“Well, she’s got a show tonight and another one tomorrow. I’m working both shows. If you’d like, I can leave you a backstage pass and you can come hang out with me.”
“Tonight?”
“Yeah. Or tomorrow. Whatever works for you, MacKenzie.”
I’ll think it over. I’m always so wiped out after work on Friday.
Plus, I’d rather not wear work clothes to a Shyanne concert.
But it’s a quick walk from my place to the United Center.
I could go home, change, and get there in plenty of time.
“I’ll see what I can do. If I don’t make it tonight, I’ll definitely come tomorrow. ”
Still thinking, I realize Lauren may want to grab a beer tonight. Things with her and Blake are weird. She didn’t call after we talked on blizzard Wednesday, but we’ve texted back and forth. When I asked her about Blake, she was evasive and noncommittal, and Lauren isn’t like that normally.
“Or you could come both nights,” Sam says, swiping another chip.
“Really? That’s so cool.” I clap my hands. “I’ve never been to a concert.”
He stops with a chip halfway to his mouth. “What? You’ve never been to a concert?”
“No. Couldn’t afford it. Well, I’ve been to some free shows in Grant Park. Stuff like that.”
He chuckles. “Well then, I’m glad I can pop your concert cherry.”
I groan. “Gross.” I eat the last bite of my sandwich and sip the last of my drink. “I need to get back.” I also want to stop in and check on Bobby.
“You’re going to check on Bobby again, aren’t you?” Sam stands and holds his hand out to me.
I take his hand. I slide on my coat and grab my purse.
“Maybe.” I smile up at him. “Thanks for lunch.” I go up on my tiptoes and give him a little kiss on the cheek.
Appropriate for the venue. We walk back to the store.
I kiss him quickly, this time on the mouth, but still a chaste little kiss.
Again, appropriate to the location. I pick an imaginary piece of lint off the lapel of his coat—just an excuse to touch him. “Maybe I’ll see you tonight.”
“If you come, text me when you get to the Center. I’ll come and find you. Okay? Actually, text me either way, babe. Will you do that?”
“Sure thing.” I watch him head down the escalator. I wave when he looks back at me, then step into the store. As I expected, Theresa is waiting for me, and she’s very angry. “Don’t say it. I’m going over to talk to him right now.”
“He left. Carl sent him home.”
“He didn’t get fired, did he?”
“No. Thankfully. I talked Carl out of it.”
“Thanks, Theresa.”
“I didn’t do it for you, MacKenzie.”
My boss is pissed. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. I really don’t blame her for being mad.
“I warned you. He’s sensitive.”
“I know, Theresa. I forgot about lunch. It happens. I didn’t do it on purpose.” Shit.
Her face isn’t quite so angry now. “I know. It’s just that my brother is autistic, and Bobby reminds me a lot of him.”
“I’m sorry about that. I really am. But Bobby is not my responsibility. I like him. He’s sweet and funny, or I thought he was.”
“Thought he was? Of course, he’s sweet.”
“Well, when he was in the back room stabbing the table with a knife, I thought that maybe I was wrong—that I should be worried—that he’s not quite so sweet.”
“A knife?”
“A steak knife. Not a big knife, but it was just a little scary to see.” I take a deep breath. “I know you’re upset with me, but you aren’t more upset than I am at myself. I hate that I hurt him. I’m going to try to make it up to him. But I don’t need a lecture.”
She nods curtly at me and walks into our back room.
I guess this conversation is over. Probably for the best.