Chapter 16
Mia
Ethan is avoiding me. He hasn’t called in days and hasn’t bothered to answer a single text. He’s on the road with his teammates. I understand he needs to concentrate on the playoffs, but he’s home for a few days and has no reason to act like a jerk.
Will stretches his hand across the kitchen table. “Can you pass me the sugar?”
I push the sugar bowl in front of him and then take a sip from my cup.
“Thanks, baby sis.” He drops three teaspoons into his coffee and stirs it with a knife instead of the spoon in front of him.
Weirdo.
“How come you’re so quiet this morning?” Will lifts the mug to his lips and blows off some steam. “You haven’t even yelled at me for coming home late.”
I shrug against the wooden chair. “You texted and said not to wait up because your bus was having issues. Plus, I’m too tired to give you shit. I haven’t had much sleep this week.”
Because of Ethan.
“Me neither.” Will shrugs. “I can sleep when I’m dead.”
I peel the Dunkin Donuts wrapper back and bite into the sausage and egg sandwich Will picked up this morning. “Where’s Ethan?”
He takes a few bites of his sandwich and washes it down with a gulp of coffee.
“Hotel, I think. He said he needed some space and a decent bed to sleep in. His game was off this week. I don’t know what’s up with him.
He started acting weird after our apartment flooded…
and now, he’s taking his shitty performance in last night’s game a lot harder than expected. ”
I have no right to be angry. But I am. Ethan kissed me on the floor of my living room. I had assumed I would see him again in the morning. That was days ago. I miss him, even though I should hate him for disappearing on me again.
Halfway through breakfast, my cell phone vibrates across the table. My stomach clenches, the eggs in my stomach threatening to reappear. I sigh when I see Clarke’s name instead of Ethan’s on my screen.
I slide my thumb along the screen and read her text.
Clarke
You were right about Old City Records.
Fred is popping wood over the story.
From what I heard in the break room, he scored you an interview for a part-time gig.
Before I can respond, a call from Fred Stephenson—my boss from hell—interrupts our conversation.
I answer the call and push my chair from the table. “Hey, Fred.”
“Mia, cancel whatever you have planned for the morning.”
Hello to you, too.
“I need you to stop by Old City Records at nine o’clock for an interview with the owner.
” His deep voice sounds like gravel, hurting my ear as he barks each word.
“I pulled a few strings to make this happen. After reading your notes, I think you’re on to something.
Chase this lead and see where it takes you. ”
Pressing the phone to my ear, I get up from the table to distance myself from Will. Even though we’re close, I can’t tell my brother about certain parts of my job. Following around drug dealers to write a story is certainly not one of them.
I move into the living room. “Sure thing, boss.”
“One more thing,” Fred says.
“What’s that?”
“Don’t fuck this up. Wear something short and tight. Dress to impress, if you know what I mean.”
Actually, no, I don’t, you fucking asshole.
“I need the job and the story. I won’t disappoint.”
“Chin up, tits out,” he growls. “Call me when it’s done.”
Then, the line goes dead.
Why do all men in my life have to be such assholes?
My chest aches at the thought of Ethan, producing a pang of anger mixed with shame and sexual frustration. I have to put my feelings aside and do my job. My career is on the line. This interview is a step in the right direction and the perfect distraction from thinking about Ethan.
Two hours later, I walk through the front door at Old City Records.
Wearing knee-high boots and a black tank and skirt paired with a jean jacket, I look the part of the grunge rocker chick who could work at a record store.
The holes Ethan never fails to give me shit about are interspersed along my jacket, complete with rock band patches I’ve collected over the years.
If Ethan wanted a dress-up Barbie, he should have chased down another puck bunny.
Instead, he chose me as his next victim.
Like most diseases, he’s hard to shake from my system.
I wish I could pop a few pills and cleanse him from my body.
But Ethan has a stronghold over me, consuming every thought of every waking moment.
I stop at the front counter and force a smile. “Hi, I’m here to see Connor about the part-time clerk position.”
A man with chestnut hair and deep brown eyes peeks up at me from the newspaper in his hand. How convenient that he’s reading my paper—The Philadelphia Inquirer. Not that it surprises me, considering it’s the most read in the city, but it sure is funny timing.
He sets the paper on a stack of records before him and leans forward.
A smile reaches up to his deep brown eyes and illuminates his face.
As if Fred told him to do it, he glances at my face for a second before raking over my body with his lustful gaze.
He settles on my chest, making me self-conscious and stupid for listening to Fred.
But he was right.
And I need this job.
So, fuck it. Ogle away.
“I’m Connor.” He reaches his hand across the counter for me to shake. “You must be Pandora.”
I almost burst out in laughter.
Pandora?
That’s my cover for this job.
What the fuck?
Like Pandora’s box.
Way to go, Fred. Was that the best he could come up with?
A familiar name like Mary or Patricia would have been better. A little heads-up would have been nice. That asshole probably wanted me to mess this up.
Not gonna happen, buddy.
I bite my cheek to stifle my laughter, hoping to make it through this interview without screwing up. Maybe Fred knew how much I needed a laugh after the week I had.
“You can call me Dora,” I offer as if I were born with this unusual name and must always correct people.
Dora the Explorer. Oh my God. How will I make it through the next five minutes?
Connor points a long finger at the barstool to his left. “Have a seat.”
I do as he instructs, still biting my cheek to keep from laughing in his face. From now until I nail the bastards running their operation out of this store, I’ll be Dora or whoever the fuck I need to be to get the story written.
“So, Dora,” Connor says. “Have you ever worked in a record store?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Do you know how to use a record player? We only play vinyl in this store. No CDs or MP3s are allowed on the surround system. Store policy. Not like we have anything you can play them with anyway.”
“Makes sense, seeing as this is a record store,” I say, almost forgetting this is an interview. I flash a closed-mouth smile and continue, “Yes, I know how to use a record player. I have my parents’ old Thorens model.”
“Sweet.” He moves his hands in front of him to crack his knuckles, his muscular arms flexing.
“It’s not often we get anyone in here who even knows how to drop a record.
” After he finishes his stretch, he leans forward with his hands on the glass counter.
“Well, the hours are pretty straightforward…” he pauses momentarily, then continues, “… Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights from four o’clock until closing at ten.
I pay in cash once a week. No overtime, no health insurance, no benefits of any kind.
You’ll have to lock up at the end of your shift, close out the till, and ensure the store is clean for the next morning. Think you can handle that?”
That’s a lot of trust to hand over to a new employee. Maybe I was wrong about this place. Either way, I can use the extra money to buy groceries.
“Yes, I can handle it. When do I start?”
“How about tonight?”
I nod, nervous about starting so soon. This is all finally happening for me—the break I need.
“Sounds good,” I say with a genuine smile.
“Come by around a quarter to four, and I’ll get you set up with everything.”
I extend my hand to Connor, and he gives it a shake. I have a job, one that can make or break my career. It’s also a good distraction from Ethan.