"Sure, I guess we'll find out." Marina bumped his elbow. "We'd better head back. And thanks."
"You're welcome," Jessan said. He raised his brows at her, and she grinned.
"I might even give you tips for dealing with Darnell." Marina folded her arms, glancing over her shoulder as she passed him on the way to the door. "First tip—don't let him get to you."
"Easy for you to say." Jessan scowled and looked down, checking the time on his phone. It was time to get back, and as fast as their break had passed, he knew time would resume its dreary crawl once they were back at their desks. "He's not targeting you and trying to get you to quit."
"That's not what he's doing! He's the supervisor. He's trying to get you to apply yourself—"
"If that's the case, someone needs to have a talk to him about personality types and tailoring his approach to the individual," Jessan muttered.
Marina had sharp ears. She cast a look over her shoulder. "Tell him yourself."
"Rather not," Jessan said. "He hates me. I prefer to keep our contact as limited as possible."
"All right. If he hates you, why not find another job?" Marina asked.
Jessan raised his hands and let them drop. "In between working the comics counter for the day shift and running over to the call center for swing, I'd have time when, exactly?" He needed both paychecks to survive, and he was barely making ends meet as it was.
Marina shook her head and made a flicking gesture. "You've got all the answers, Jessan! You figure it out."
The remark left both of them stewing as they returned to work, and it was on Jessan's mind all afternoon. He loved his job at Go Big Comics, but it had never been enough to pay the bills, which had been woefully obvious from his first paycheck. Not wanting to quit, he had sent out requests to all his friends to ask if they knew of anything with steady work after four, and his friend Keisha had given him a referral to the local call center, which handled customer service for a multimedia sales products giant. She'd lasted another month after he had begun working there, then quit for a better opportunity but he'd extended a referral to Marina, and while she was making her push to move up the ladder Jessan was still in the same dead-end entry-level service rep position. He hated cold calls, did well with emails, and resented his immediate boss Darnell, who singled him out for reprimands more than anyone else in their section.
Jessan loved his day job, but the swing shift was driving him mad on a slow burn. Worse, working sixty-five hours a week left him with no time for anything but the Minecraft that Marina derided, besides keeping up with his social network and the other online interests he cultivated. He was making barely enough to get by and he wanted more. Most days, it seemed impossible. He was stuck in a rut with no way out. Student loans, credit cards, rent—all those things had to be paid, and without both jobs, he had nothing to eat, no car to get there, and no prospects beyond his current employment.
He was on phones for the rest of his shift, but calls were sluggish and Jessan switched to working through the email backlog instead. A steady stream of inquiries, from mundane to bizarre, came through their general mailbox and filtered down to all of them for replies. Jessan chafed at working with the template replies they were forced to use, but the different tasks helped break up the monotony.
By the fifth email, he had reached a good rhythm, but hit a snag with an odd request. He frowned as he went over his templates. None of them fit—it required a custom response. He reached up and pushed his headset stem away from his mouth, wheeled his chair out to the aisle, and peered in both directions. Part of him was tempted to go for it on the grounds it was easier to beg forgiveness than ask permission, as Marina had done with their breaks. What was 'showing initiative' from her, however, got cracked down on as 'being insubordinate' with him.
"Was there something wrong?"
Darnell's voice came from behind him, and Jessan startled. He sat up and swiveled his chair to face his supervisor. Darnell was tall, black, handsome, dressed in crisp suits and ties every day Jessan had seen him, and had been coming down hard on Jessan since the day he had been reassigned to their unit.
Jessan hesitated, eyes darting from Darnell to his flatscreen monitor. He wished he'd been able to compose and send a reply without asking, but that meant catching hell twice as hard later. "I've got an email that needs a non-standard response."
"I doubt that," Darnell said, putting a hand to the back of Jessan's chair and gesturing toward his computer. "Let's see it. I'm sure there's a template response that's close enough."
"I really don't think so," Jessan said, but wheeled his chair back into his cubicle. "They've already tried to re-set their password, and the website treats it as a successful re-set, but they're still not able to log on. They also have two accounts under that name—"
"Could be two different people. Send them the email telling them to follow directions for the password re-set," Darnell said.
Jessan clenched his jaw. "As I said, they've already done that." He pointed to a line on the email. "Twice. It's not letting them log on. You want them to create a third account?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Darnell said. He waved a hand. "They must be doing it wrong. Send them the password re-set email. Third time's the charm."
"All right, I'll send her the password re-set email," Jessan surrendered, plastering a sickly smile onto his face.
"See that you do," Darnell said, swinging a finger in his direction as he backed out of Jessan's cubicle. "I'll be spot reviewing responses, later."
"Yes, sir," Jessan muttered, keeping his head down as he pulled up the template that he knew was likely to get them an infuriated call, or possibly lose them someone's business.
Between mind-numbing emails and a half-dozen entitled phone calls later, Jessan was sure he'd never been so happy to see the clock tick toward the last agonizing twenty minutes of his shift. On any given day, he was beyond done when the final stretch arrived. He swiveled his chair as Marina popped up next to his cubicle entry. With a grimace, he pulled his headset off and tossed it none too gently to the counter. He'd used it long enough that he knew it could withstand some abuse.
"Ready to go?" The sympathy on Marina's face was a grating contrast for Jessan's irritated mood.
"Beyond ready." Jessan grabbed his keys. Games and the insular den of his small room were good for soothing his nerves and withdrawing from the world, but in some ways, it meant he would play out the annoyances of Darnell's micro-managing and a dozen thick-headed customers on a Mobius strip to hell inside his head.
It was time for something different. He needed a change of pace to shake him out of his funk.
*~*~*
The C Street bar had something new to offer every day of the week, and tried to net the widest possible customer base with everything from Ladies' Night to Male Monday, where guys were encouraged to enter shirtless by a discount on the cover charge. Jessan hadn't been there often but the dark, close confines and roving neon spotlights were familiar enough that he wasn't panicky as he kept a hand to Marina's shoulder to keep from losing her in the crowd.
"Drinks?" he asked, leaning forward to speak right into her ear. He did better not only with dancing but clubbing in general when he had a few drinks in him.
She nodded, altering course to head for the bar, which was packed and understaffed. There were only two bartenders, a dark-haired man at one end and a blond woman closer to them holding up a silver shaker and looking out over the crowd with a set, almost grim expression, the look of an overworked employee staring into the deep end of a long night.
"This is going to take forever!" Marina did an about-face and shoved cash into his hand. "Get me a vodka cranberry, and I'll find you!"
"Bullshi—" Jessan began to protest, but she was already gone. He cast his eyes up, caught sight of the dim mirror ball that was raised up and locked out of the way for the evening, and shuffled forward to join the queue with a shrug.
While he was musing over whether he let hi
mself get suckered into things because he wasn't assertive, or he lacked assertiveness because he was constantly suckered into things, a hard shoulder collided with his and Jessan lurched forward.
"Shit! I am so sorry, man!" Hands reached out to steady him, and Jessan turned, brow gathering in a glare.
His squint shifted to one of instant appraisal. From the impact he'd expected someone taller, more muscular, but his assailant was close to his height, and his type in all the ways he hadn't seen in a while. He was short, dark, and brown, though his features had a distinctly Asian cast. Jessan schooled himself to disinterest; all of the Asians on campus tended toward aggressive Christianity, clubgoing or not.
"No worries," Jessan said. "So long as you didn't do it on purpose."
Short and Dark leaned in closer, flashing a smile that displayed teeth in stark contrast to his lips as his eyes went up and down Jessan. "And if I did?" he asked. His hand remained a warm presence on Jessan's shoulder. "And was looking for an excuse to make conversation?"
Jessan's brain was forced to backpedal on his assumptions, and he stood gaping like a flounder as he tried to come up with a response. He shook his head a little, laughed and decided not to accuse the guy of a terrible method of coming onto someone, and managed the very with-it reply of "Uhh…"
"Nice shirt!" Short and Dark complimented him, smoothing right past Jessan's awkward non-answer. His eyes skimmed from Jessan's chest and upward until he made eye contact again, and smiled.
That put Jessan on more familiar territory. "Oh?" he said, somewhat wary. People had recognized the pop culture references before, but tended to think they looked cool or missed the thrust of the shirt's design.
"Yeah, Captain Jack's my favorite—and having him cosplay Captain Sparrow is about five kinds of awesome. Makes you wonder which would be more slutty."
Jessan beamed at him. Whether Short and Dark had knocked into him on purpose or not, getting the t-shirt's visual pun had endeared him to Jessan forever. "Right?" he said. "My friend says I wear too much ShirtRage gear, but I'm kind of an addict." He shifted in place, wondering if he should turn around and make sure he maintained his place in line, or introduce himself.
The dilemma was solved when a hand was offered to him. "I'm Felipe." Warm, dark eyes surveyed him.
"Jessan." He took Felipe's hand and shook it, enjoying a glow that had nothing to do with the drinks he'd thought he needed. An insecure corner of his head told him exactly what Felipe was seeing: the skinny half-black, half-Persian kid with cornrows and geek gear, too insecure to wear any of the more flattering clothes his female friends attempted to push on him. He was in a t-shirt and jeans and combat boots, and got mistaken half the time for a lesbian dressing butch to make up for a pretty face. Jessan took the conscious initiative to tell that part of his brain to buzz off; adults were talking. And if he hadn't misinterpreted the interest, adults might be hooking up.
"Not a fan of club clothes, then, Jessan?" Felipe asked, stepping into his space and guiding Jessan along with the flow of the queue shuffling toward the bar.
The move reminded Jessan of dancing, and he was caught between that and the notion he was being subtly derided. There was nothing mocking in Felipe's face, at least, so he treated it like a question with no mean intent.
"I'm not much of a clubbing person, no." Jessan waved a hand around to encompass the noisy, dark interior and wrinkled his nose at the cramped dance floor. Before he could go off on a rant, he caught himself and hauled his remarks into politer territory. "Uh, but, yours look good!" He allowed himself to look.
On Felipe, 'club clothes' wasn't doing it justice. It was more like he'd walked out of Jessan's wet dream catalogue. Besides being in Jessan's height range, short by anyone else's standards but perfect for him, Felipe had dark hair gelled up into wayward spikes, brown skin set off to advantage by a silver tank that bared his arms, collarbones, and a glimpse of belly, and skintight patterned leggings that weren't underwear, but left very little to the imagination. It gave Jessan brief flashbacks to David Bowie in tights and his early realization of where his attractions lay.
"Likin' the angle of the dangle?" Felipe asked, cocking his head.
"Did you just… quote The Losers at me?" Jessan was stupefied. He'd never known a guy with Felipe's attractiveness index to have anything to do with that movie; at least, not the gay ones. Most guys were in it for Zoe Saldana.
Felipe's faint smile widened. "Yeah, I did. It was a sneaky way of letting you know I noticed you checking me out."
Jessan blew right past that, unable to acknowledge it. "Comic or movie?"
"Why, are you trying to establish nerd cred?" Felipe asked him, putting his mouth closer to Jessan's ear.
Jessan's brow wrinkled before he'd processed the meaning of the question—that Felipe thought he was asking whether Jessan thought he was a fake geek guy. "No!" He twisted out from under Felipe's warm hand and shot him a glare. "I'm asking because I'm curious. Happy either way, if you've seen the movie and you're a fan."
"Jensen's my second favorite," Felipe said. He eased right back into Jessan's personal space, though his hand didn't reassert its position on his shoulder.
"And your first?"
"Cougar, of course! The man represents."
It drew a genuine grin from Jessan. "On that, we can agree."
Felipe leaned in and touched his elbow. "So how many drinks do I have to buy you to get you onto the dance floor?"
"You don't have to buy me drinks." The words were out of his mouth before he had the chance to rein them in, and Jessan wanted to cringe. It sounded like a refusal. "I mean, I can get my own. Drinks. But to get me to dance, it takes at least two. Unless I'm doing shots."
"I'd like to buy you a drink or two!" Felipe flashed his white teeth again. "I'm trying to pick you up, Jessan. Won't you let me?"
"Oh!" If he was clubbed over the head with it, Jessan was able to concede to mutual interest. Felipe was wielding the club with a skillful hand. "Uh, yeah! So… drinks, then? I'm buying for someone else, too." He craned his head, but was too short, as ever, to spot Marina in the crowd.
"A friend?" Felipe asked.
Jessan nodded. "Yeah, I have to make sure she's all set before we part ways."
"A gentleman," Felipe said.
"Nah, not a gentleman," Jessan said with a shrug. "I don't think it's any extra chivalry to make sure basic human decency is covered."
"You're a good friend, then," Felipe said. He set a hand high on Jessan's back and guided him toward the counter. Money materialized from an undisclosed location that was definitely not pockets, given that Felipe had none, and he waved it in the air as he leaned in close enough for Jessan to feel breath stirring his skin. "I'd like to buy your drinks, but not hers."
Jessan glanced at him from the corner of his eye. He wanted to say yes, no thanks, absolutely, or excuse himself to flee to the bathroom all at once. It had been a while, and he was wary of getting involved, of putting his heart or even ass on the line, if it turned out to be a one-night hookup. "Yeah, okay," his mouth answered for him.
"What can I get you?"
"Uh, dark and stormy?" The moment he asked, Jessan winced. He ought to have asked for something cheaper, like beer, but it had been what he'd already planned to get.
"Sounds promising."
Felipe put an arm around his shoulders as they left the bar with drinks in hand and Jessan leaned into it, enjoying the charge that sprang up between their bodies. They were searching for a table near the dance floor when Marina found them with their heads pressed together. She bounced up and grinned, snatching her drink from Jessan's hand.
"So I found Marc!" Marina yelled near his ear.
He pulled back to look her in the eye. "You good?"
"Oh, I'm good!" From her lips, it was lascivious. "See you tomorrow!" She downed her drink in three long swallows, set it down without even a grimace for the alcohol burn, and turned for the dance floor with a sway in her step.
Jessan turned to Felipe, who waggled his brows. "Looks like your friend is all set?"
"Yeah," Jessan said. A nervous tremor made him set his drink down for a moment. He was free to do what he wanted, and what he wanted right then was Felipe. It was feast after famine.
"Let's make the most of it, shall we?"
They drank, and danced, and ended up in Felipe's car making out long before last call. Jessan was caught up in warm, liquor-flavored kisses that opened him to tongue and the possibility for more. They kissed and groped until Felipe pushed him off, breath gusting against Jessan's lips, and fished jangling keys out of his pocket.
"Don't wanna go further here—come to my place?" Felipe's eyes were dark and intense on him, and Jessan found himself nodding.
"Yeah… y-yeah, that works." Jessan shifted in the passenger seat, adjusting his cock in his jeans, and was glad they weren't stuck on the public transportation that would have been his option if there hadn't been any cabs. The prospect of being stuck side by side in dreary plastic seats, unable to really touch or keep their physical momentum going while the bus lumbered along its route was enough to make his hard-on flag.
"Great, it's not far from here." Felipe's hand touched his before he reached for the gearshift to put the car in drive.
In the dark, the brick apartment buildings and two-story residential homes looked the same, the only contrast being how light or dark the paint was from one house to the next. Jessan gazed out the side window, occasionally stealing a glance at Felipe only to be greeted with a warm smile every time.
"You go to the college here in town?" Felipe asked.
"I did, but I graduated." After a beat of silence, Jessan remembered to turn the question around. "What about you?"
Felipe shook his head. "Too much money to go to college; not worth it, my uncle says. Like, it used to be, you know? But now it's better to get out there and work."
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