Sacked!

by Melinda De Ross

  He ignored me, industriously gulping at the tiny granules I’d given him. I went into the kitchen to make a cup of instant coffee. Grabbing it and a croissant I’d purchased on my way home, I returned to the living room and installed myself on the sofa. I turned on the TV.

  Since I wasn’t familiar with daytime programming, I couldn’t find anything to watch other than talk shows and soap operas. Given a choice between going out or doing chores, after finishing my breakfast, I decided to go running, something I usually did two or three times a week. After the ice cream pig out, I needed to get some exercise. Besides, running relaxed me, since along with burning calories I expended all the negative energy in and around me.

  I pulled on a pair of black running shorts, a white sports’ bra, a deeper pink tank top, socks, and my black and pink runners. For once, my hair obeyed as I pulled it into a neat ponytail. For practical purposes, I’d purchased a small running belt to hold my cellphone and keys. With it strapped to my waist, I locked the door behind me and started down the stairs.

  The neighborhood streets, bordered by trees and well-tended flower beds, were quiet. It was quite warm out considering the time of day, but the sunshine invigorated me.

  I started at a slow pace to warm up and jogged my way to the nearby park. The city had long ago come to life, and I passed open shops and restaurants where people sat outside drinking coffee and eating breakfast. Others rushed by attending to their own jobs and errands. Traffic was moderate, but every now and then, a blast of exhaust mixed with the scent of flowers in bloom.

  By the time I reached the park, I was quite winded, a combination of heat and exertion. Still, determined not to give in, I kept on running, now and then dodging children and their parents or grandparents. Finally, knowing my body had reached its limit, I slowed down, my heart hammering, my breathing labored. I walked around since it wasn’t wise to stop moving right away.

  When I reached a more secluded corner, I gave in to my body’s demands and crashed to the grass. Taking deep breaths, I began to tame my panting. Gradually, my heart rate slowed and my breathing normalized. I just lay there, staring at the intense, blue sky with a single cloud drifting lazily across it.

  I was debating whether the cloud resembled a pigeon or a rabbit, when a man materialized in my line of sight.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as he leaned over me.

  I blinked up at him in surprise. He was real? Wow. Corinne could keep her Aquaman mirages.

  Silhouetted against the sunlight, I couldn’t distinguish his features, but he was tall, not bulky but fit. His blue shorts revealed the calves and strong thighs of a runner. The black tank top he wore hugged his long torso, showing off his sculpted muscles, powerful arms, and broad shoulders. The only other thing I could discern was a crop of short blond hair.

  Remembering his question, I nodded. “Yes, thank you. I was just resting.”

  “Need a hand up?”

  He reached down, and I took his offered hand, letting him drag me to my feet, stunned by the electric shock coursing through me.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, confused by the strange effect of his touch. Dusting off my clothes, I discovered there was dirt and grass all over my back. Great, just frigging great. I meet a god and I’ve got black and green spots on my ass. Way to go, Camilla!

  “You’re welcome. For a moment there, I was afraid you’ve succumbed to the heat.”

  I looked up at him. He had a great smile, deep green eyes framed by dark eyelashes, and dark-blond eyebrows. His gaze was so direct it was almost bold, as was the glint in those clear eyes. When his smile relaxed, I noticed his lips were beautiful, well defined and full, but still masculine. He was “drop dead gorgeous” and that was all there was to it.

  I must have gaped for an awfully long time before I realized I was expected to say something else.

  “Oh, no. I ... was just taking a break. From running. Jogging,” I added, ordering myself to just shut up.

  Maybe it was my imagination, but he didn’t seem to take his eyes off me either. That potent stare holding us locked together for long heartbeats was unnerving.

  He was the first to blink, as he looked away. Even his profile was impressive, dominated by a perfect nose and a strong chin, with its sandy stubble.

  “I’m glad you’re okay. I was getting ready to perform CPR,” he said and grinned, revealing perfect white teeth.

  Damn! Was it too late to fake a fainting spell? If this guy gave me mouth-to-mouth it might not be entirely fake.

  I laughed lightly.

  “Not many people would bother to stop these days. Are you a firefighter or something like that?”

  “No, I’m a journalist. My name is Carter Evans, by the way.” He extended his hand again, and I reached for it.

  “Camilla Jackson.”

  His large, warm, dry palm engulfed mine once more. Again, I felt that powerful chemical reaction take place, drawing us together.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Camilla,” he said, his voice husky. “If you’re sure you’re okay, I’d better get going.”

  My lips parted to say something to keep him here, but when he lifted a hand to comb his fingers through his damp hair, the sun glinted off his wedding ring. Disappointment stabbed me. Damn. All the good ones were married.

  “Of course,” I said quietly. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, Carter. It was nice to meet you, too.”

  I turned reluctantly and started walking along the path at the same time he turned and walked in the opposite direction. Some strange impulse prompted me to steal a glance at him over my shoulder. My heart skipped a beat when I saw he was doing the same, and our eyes met once again. Flustered, I turned my head with a sigh. Easy come, easy go. The story of my life.

  Chapter Four

  I made my way to the park restroom. Luckily, it was empty, so I cleaned off my running shorts and used the hand dryer to dry them. The grass stains on my tank top weren’t so obvious. I jogged by the playground and spotted Corrine sitting on a bench with her usual arsenal of kid stuff. I hoped she’d forgiven my screw-up the other night. She seemed to since her face lit up when she saw me.

  “Don’t tell me you went running in this heat,” she said. “Have a sit. Misery loves company.” She handed me her water bottle, and I drank from it.

  “Thanks. I see you’re back at it,” I said, hitching my chin toward all the things piled up on the bench. “If I decide I want a child, I’ll adopt an older one.”

  She laughed, offering me an energy bar, which I promptly snatched.

  “Right, and jump right into the teen years, hormones, and attitudes. You couldn’t stand your own sister. Having a young child isn’t all bad. Sometimes it’s a lot of fun. Remember when Andrew was little, and he first learned to speak?”

  I nodded, my mouth full of chocolate. “How could I forget? The only word he knew was ‘yes’, and used it to answer every question.”

  “Dan’s buddies were mad about him. They would always ask him leading questions like, ‘Does daddy have a small prick?’ or ‘Does mommy bring men home often?’ I wanted to scream, but it was funny.”

  We both giggled, remembering those early years. I sighed.

  “Sometimes I want what you have, a child, a husband ... but it seems so exhausting. I don’t know how you do it.”

  She shrugged lightly. “I’m one of the lucky ones who gets to stay home. But as far as the rest of it goes, you get used to it. I promise to help you when you have a baby of your own. But make sure you have a girl, so my son can have someone to hit on when they grow up.”

  I burst out laughing and punched her in the shoulder. “You’re crazy!”

  “That’s why you love me.”

  “True. Well, I think—“

  I didn’t have time to finish the sentence because Corrine jumped up with a startled cry and ran toward the swing set in time to watch Andrew fly through the air and land face first in the sand.

  “Oh, God!” I shrieked and rushed to
ward them. “Is he okay?”

  Corrine was checking him frantically while her mouth worked.

  “I told you time and again to stay away from that swing unless I’m with you,” she chastised her offspring, who seemed a bit dazed. Of course, with his face coated in sand, it was hard to tell. But I saw no blood, no brains or other bodily fluids leaking out, so I assumed he was all right.

  His howl indicated otherwise.

  “Ouch! I got sand in my eyes,” he wailed, rubbing his little fists over his face.

  “Oh, baby, don’t rub them,” Corrine begged as she helped him to his feet. “Come here. Let’s wash you off and see if that helps.”

  We took him to a nearby public fountain, washed his face, and rinsed his eyes. After we’d finished, he said he was feeling better. I could see the tension dissipate from Corrine’s shoulders. By the way she was breathing, air was actually getting in and out of her lungs now. Boy, having a child was serious work. Possibly more than I could ever handle, it crossed my mind gloomily.

  Corrine must have read my thoughts. She gazed up at me and forced a smile. “You get used to it. There are beautiful moments too.” She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself as much as me.

  I shook my head and took her by the shoulders. “I’m sure there are. Let’s get you two to the car, okay? We’ve all had enough excitement for today.”

  * * *

  The next morning, after a night of amazing erotic dreams featuring the married man from the park I just couldn’t get out of my head, I got up prepared for my second day of work at the pet store. Since I hadn’t slept well, I wasn’t as bright eyed as I would like, but I was up and awake. As they said, two out of three wasn’t bad.

  Not all of the cages and aquariums would need cleaning today. I looked forward to simply feeding the animals and visiting with them, even Mister Happy—as long as he kept his business to himself.

  Upon my arrival, Shauna provided me with a red t-shirt and pants, which unfortunately were a man’s XXL.”

  “I’m afraid that’s all that’s left. It belongs to the owner. The others will be back from the laundry soon.”

  “Not a problem,” I lied, praying no one I knew would ever see me.

  I managed to knot the shirt in back, but the pants were hopeless. I’d tied a length of rope around my waist to hold them up, and even though I’d rolled the cuffs, I still managed to trip over them. Considering my height, these must have been made for Sasquatch! I’d almost dropped an open bag of puppy chow earlier and was considering putting on my own jeans, but Shauna asked me to tough it out for the day, promising to order new uniforms for me as soon as she could.

  I’d finished feeding the critters, including the half-dozen white mice that had taken every ounce of courage I possessed, and was bending over to pick up another box of dog food, when the glass doors opened and a man walked into the store.

  “Oh, shit! I recognize this guy. He’s the health inspector,” Shauna whispered, as she walked by me to the front of the store. “Can I help you?”

  The guy certainly looked like a Fed—maybe even a CIA or an FBI agent. He was thirtyish, wore a dark suit, gray tie, impeccably shiny shoes, and displayed impossibly white teeth when he smiled.

  “Hello. I’m Harry Standford from the New Jersey Department of Health. Since you’ve just recently opened, I haven’t had the pleasure of visiting your shop. Nobody panic,” he added, widening his salesman smile. “I’ll make this as painless as possible. Who’s in charge?”

  “I am,” Shauna said, extending a hand and introducing herself. “Shauna Armstrong, assistant manager. Would you like me to show you our licenses?”

  “Yes, please. Then I would like a guided tour of the facilities.”

  We all smiled, but I was more than a little worried. I hadn’t filled out my employment papers yet, but maybe he wouldn’t ask to see those. After all, the Department of Health regulating pet stores had to be more concerned with the animals than with the employees.

  Shauna provided the inspector with the required licenses. While Christy worked the counter, I finished restocking the shelves, and Shauna volunteered to show Mr. Standford around.

  “Should we be worried about anything?” I whispered to Christy.

  She shrugged. “I don’t think so. All of the paperwork is in order, and we treat the pets like royalty, as you well know.”

  “I’ll say. I cleaned the turtles’ aquarium again this morning. I don’t understand how that water can get so stinky so fast. I mean there’s only three of them in there.”

  “Yeah ... they can be kind of messy, but they are cute. I have one at home. His shell’s about eight inches long now, and he crawls all over the house when he wants to,” Christy said. She turned to the woman who’d just stepped into the store. “May I help you?”

  “Yes. I’m interested in a pair of parakeets.”

  I left Christy to her sales pitch and headed toward the back of the store for more supplies. Standford and Shauna were standing next to the aquariums talking. They seemed more engrossed in one another than in the business at hand, so I decided to make myself scarce.

  I was walking as inconspicuously as I could toward the back room when something darted under the shelf of the aquariums. Had I imagined it?

  I glanced over at the inspector and Shauna, my gaze drawn magnetically to his feet. There, moving at a speed that rivalled an Indy racecar was one of the white mice I’d fed earlier. It was within six inches of his shoe, close enough to see its own damn reflection in the shiny black surface.

  Oh God! How was this possible? I’d shut the damn cage—hell, I’d barely opened it! Retracing my steps as quickly as I could, I hurried to the cage. The door appeared closed and locked, but on closer examination, I saw my mistake. There was a small gap where some of the wood chip bedding I’d tossed it had caught on the wire wall and stopped the door from closing tightly. The cage was empty! All six of the little rodents had escaped.

  I looked around frantically, searching for the other escapees. Grabbing one of the nets used to recover fish from the tank, I set off in search of the runaways.

  Shauna had warned me that mice only needed an opening the size of a fingernail to get out. That space was the size of my whole damn thumb. So where were the little monsters?

  “Come out come out wherever you are?” I whispered, but nary a mouse could be seen. Mortified and annoyed, I continued my search. “If I get my hands on you, I’ll buy you all and feed you to the snakes.”

  Suddenly, my luck changed. I spotted one of them climbing the wooden shelves holding the cages. I lunged for him, not sure what I would do it I actually caught him. I swear Mighty Mouse winked at me in derision before running along the shelf and sitting down right outside of Mister Happy’s enclosure.

  The cat went nuts, scratching at the plexiglass and the mouse sitting on the ledge, caterwauling for all he was worth. I was about to use the net and lunge for the beast when I froze.

  The mouse who’d been heading toward the inspector’s shoe had climbed on it and was having a mouse conversation with his reflection. I held my breath as the critter left his lookalike behind and headed toward the pant leg. Any moment now, the man would feel something and shake his leg. When that happened, all hell would break lose.

  In a moment of empathy, I regretted any damage that might befall the mouse because of my negligence. I had to do whatever I could to save the poor little thing from being injured or killed.

  “Camilla, can you go and see why Mister Happy is making so much noise?” Shauna asked seconds before Standford twitched.

  “What the hell?”

  He lifted his pantleg and saw the tiny mouse clinging to his golden leg hairs. In a moment of panic, I threw myself at Standford, grabbing the little mouse, and a substantial handful of Mr. Standford’s leg hair.

  The man howled, the mouse slithered out of my hand and down my pant leg, disappearing from sight, but it was too late. Off balance, Standford waved his hands wil
dly, but to no avail. He fell backward against the wall full of fish tanks, water, glass, and former denizens of the sea flying all around. Shauna screeched and flapped her arms uselessly as dozens of fish flew from the busted aquariums along with the gushing water. Small bodies flopped around madly, desperate to get back into the water.

  I watched in horror, as I lay on the floor on my belly, holding onto another of the mice who’d come out to investigate. Oblivious to the apocalypse around him, he moved his legs frantically wanting to be free once more.

  Christy rushed to see what the commotion was. She surveyed the damage with wide eyes, and her lips parted.

  After a few moments she said, “It’s a good thing you never got around to filling out those employment forms, Camilla, because I’m pretty damn sure you just got sacked.”

  Two hours later, my ears still ringing from the lecture I’d gotten, I let myself into my apartment, smelling strongly of swamp and destruction. Four of the six mice had been recovered thanks to peanut butter and crackers, but the shop was closed until further notice. Several fish had failed to survive their suicidal leap to the floor. God alone knew what had happened to the other two mice.

  Shoulders slumped in dejection, I kicked the door closed behind me and walked straight to the bathroom. I undressed, wincing at my reflection in the mirror. Not only was I jobless once more, I had a gash on my temple where a chunk of aquarium glass had grazed me.

  I was lucky they’d just kicked me out instead of asking me to pay for the damages. Considering my financial situation at the moment, that would’ve been an even greater catastrophe.

  If Mr. Standford had been interested in Shauna, I’d sabotaged that relationship.

  Was I going to cry? No. I might’ve lost another job, but the fault couldn’t be all mine. After all, I’d never been properly trained for the work. Everyone made mistakes when they started, right? Wrong. I’d screwed up as usual and poor, innocent creatures had paid the price. I was only grateful none of Fish’s relatives had been among the casualties.