Chapter 14 #2
He doesn’t respond, so I scan the neat, careful handwriting in the “Play by Play” section, which seems a bit flippant for an official HR document.
Reason for disciplinary action: Abbey abandoned her 6-2:30 shift at 9:20 a.m. and left the department without coverage during open hours.
“I did not abandon my shift!” I can’t help how high-pitched and desperate I sound, not after the stress of the morning and that terrible interview.
Susan didn’t even ask me about my writing experience or—or—or where I see myself in five years.
What kind of an interview is that? “How can you say I abandoned my shift when you just moments ago clocked me in? I’m here! And Sam was covering for me!”
He shakes his head. “You left without telling anyone where you were going or when you would be back. And no one approved that coverage.”
“I told Bergren!”
“You lied to Bergren. A family emergency? What’s going on? Did you really have a family emergency?”
I had a hard time lying to Bergren; there’s no way I can bring myself to lie to Wil. Not Wil, not after Ruh-Roh, not after our night at La Cuchara. Not after… whatever it was that happened in the parking lot.
I lower my chin to my chest and stare at my feet, realizing with a jolt that after I changed into my uniform, I neglected to switch back to my tennis shoes. I’m still wearing my black patent leather flats.
He notices, too. “You had an interview, didn’t you?”
“Let me—” My words falter when I see the disappointment in his eyes.
“You told us you were in this for the long haul,” he says quietly.
“I didn’t. Not those exact words.”
He huffs. “Fine, Rhodes, if that’s how you want to play this. However you said it, when we hired you, we were under the impression that you were going to stay, that you weren’t going to leave for a newspaper job. We just promoted you.”
“But—but—this came up, you know, and it wasn’t at a newspaper, and I had to at least see if it would be a good fit. But it’s not going to happen. I can tell you after the experience I’ve had—”
“Well, if you hadn’t abandoned your shift—”
“I didn’t abandon! I left for a little while, and I’m sure that Sam handled the department—”
“No, actually, he didn’t. We had an unscheduled delivery, so I had to move Stacy from the registers to cover so we were down a cashier, and then I called Kevin in early—”
Oh, no. Kevin wasn’t supposed to come in early today. And Stacy from the registers? That’s bad. I love Stacy, but she doesn’t know U2 from UB40.
“Wil—”
“You might think that it’s not a big deal to leave for a couple of hours, but do you see the domino effect it had? What if—uh, Mr. Wilshire had stopped in, or Felix, or Kelsey? You put your teammates—including me—in a terrible position.”
Oh, crap. He called his dad Mr. Wilshire.
“I’m so sorry, Wil. Please don’t write me up. I promise, I’ll stop looking for jobs—” I slap my hand over my mouth.
“So, you admit you’ve been looking for a new job.” His tone is even, calm, so very disappointed.
He takes the clipboard back and crosses out some of the words, then scribbles something underneath it. When he hands it back to me, I can hardly see the words through the tears threatening to spill.
Reason for disciplinary action: Abbey abandoned her 6-2:30 p.m. shift at 9:20 a.m. and left the department without coverage during open hours.
Unexcused absence, 9:20 a.m. to 10:55 a.m. Gave a false reason for leaving.
Additional unexcused absences and/or false statements will result in further disciplinary action, up to and including termination.
He’s even good at writing people up.
I sign my name and shove the clipboard into Wil’s chest, pushing past him. I need to find a way to salvage this day in these ridiculous shoes.
Aurora’s at customer service when I clock in for my closing shift the next day. She reeks of cigarette smoke, strands of platinum hair have escaped her tiny rhinestone clips, and her nails are bitten down to the quick.
“Thank all the gods you’re here,” she says. “Today has been a complete disaster. I think there’s a full moon. The people have been so much today.”
“Which people? Fans or teammates?”
“All of the people.”
We walk toward the media desk, but she stops when we’re in the software section, grabs my arm, and looks at me with panic in her eyes. “I have some big news. Like, really big.”
“Okay.” I hope she’s being overdramatic.
“You didn’t hear this from me,” she whispers, “but Cesar got offered the media TC position at Riverview without an interview. They called him this morning. He’s telling Wil today.”
My stomach drops. I don’t think I can do this without Cesar’s charm and sense of humor, especially in stressful situations. “Good for him, even though it sucks for us.”
She nods gravely, then bites at her thumbnail. “There’s more. You can’t tell anyone.” She lets out a long breath. “I’m quitting. Like, today.”
My mouth falls open. “Wh-what?”
“We’re buying a house. In Houston. As in, Texas. We’re moving to Texas. So, I’m done. I’ve got an apartment to pack up and a wedding to plan. My last day is Tuesday.”
Tuesday. As in five days from now. “But—but—you can’t leave! Also, you told me two days ago that you weren’t leaving!”
“I totally lied. Amir’s uncle found us a house, and we need to jump on it. You know what the housing market’s like.”
“Uh, no, I actually don’t.”
She ignores me. “He’ll stay here to finish school while his mother and I get the house ready in Houston. His mother, Abbey.” She says this like it’s the worst part of this situation, not the fact that she and Cesar are abandoning me. “This wedding will be, like, impossible to plan from Texas.”
I take a deep breath. She can’t go, not with Cesar leaving, too. “Are you sure you can’t stay another month or two? I mean, with the holidays coming? Please?”
She reaches out and grips my wrist—hard. I know she’s not doing it intentionally, but it burns. “Abbey. What am I going to do? I can barely stand to have Sunday brunch with the woman.” It’s like she didn’t hear what I said. “How am I going to survive weeks and weeks with that woman, without Amir?”
How am I going to survive without Aurora and Cesar, especially because Wil is so, so mad at me?
“I’m not going to steal Cesar’s thunder,” she says.
“He’s off today but coming in to tell Wil in person.
Then I’ll tell Wil my news. By the way, I’m leaving early.
Like, in an hour. There are new video game planograms on the desk that need to be set.
Truck got rescheduled to tonight, but Dex wasn’t able to call in enough people to help. He’s going to pull you for it.”
“Great,” I say, my head spinning. Fucking great. I shouldn’t have taken so many chances with the interview. Susan would have loved me, if only I’d been on time. I could be leaving, too.
“God.” She breathes out a long, loud breath.
“I’m not going to miss the pressure of always needing to be on all the fucking time.
Coming to the flagship store did nothing for my mental health.
Nothing. I’ll, like, miss you and everything, but I cannot wait to get out of here, even if it means looking at carpet samples and going to brunch with my future mother-in-law. ”
Yeah. Poor Aurora. Brunch and carpet samples. How will she ever survive it?
She leaves me standing dumbstruck in the productivity software aisle.
“Hey,” Wil says later, after I clock back in from lunch and slowly make my way to the media desk.
His greeting is the same as always but hardened.
He’s standing at a nearby half-empty video game endcap.
I slide my latte cup behind the monitor so he doesn’t see it.
“There’s a title missing on this endcap. ”
“It’s on tonight’s truck,” I say. “I figured it didn’t make sense to flex in another title if I can fill it from the truck.”
“And let the endcap sit empty for hours?” he barks, and I flinch. “Flex it!”
Whoa. I’ve heard him snarl at Shane and even Aurora, but he’s never turned on me like this, like a rabid raccoon.
Sure, he’s still pissed about yesterday, and he might be in a foul mood for losing two-thirds of his media leadership team in one fell swoop, but so am I.
And I am not having it tonight. “You know what? In the time it’s taken for you to ride me about this, you could have flexed it yourself! ”
His jaw drops, but before he can respond, Sam pages me to the warehouse for the truck, and I spin on my heel and leave.
I’m hot, and in more ways than one. Maybe “ride me” wasn’t the best term to use in this instance.
I peel off my jersey and step into my spot on the rollers behind Sam, ready to unload boxes and stack them onto pallets. Tonight’s truck was a split-load with Riverview, so it’s only half full.
“You okay?” Sam asks.
“Fine. Why?” I’m grumpy.
“You and Wil patch things up yet?”
“No, and I don’t expect that we will. What do you know about it, anyway?”
“He’ll get over it. Eventually.”
“I suppose he told you? About the interview?” He probably knows everything that happened between Wil and me the other night, too.
“He didn’t have to,” Sam says. “I figured it out all on my own. I know he was angry with you, but have you tried to talk to him since then?”
I shake my head as Eric and Tyrell start to send boxes down the rollers.
“Hmm,” Sam says, and then: “Sometimes you gotta do the hard thing and apologize.”
I let that sink in as I carry two small boom boxes over to the audio pallet. At one point, I’m struggling to heft a microwave onto a full pallet, and Tyrell comes over and grabs the box.
“I got this, sugar,” he says. He smells pungent and ripe, like sweat and weed.
“Let’s get your pretty little ass back on the truck and see if we can’t find something lighter.
” He sets the box on a pallet and then slaps my backside.
I freeze, the waterfall of fear and shame that courses through me turning to crackling crystals of ice.
Oh, no. I can’t handle this. Not tonight.