Checked Out

by Hazel James

  Me: Thanks. Okay, heading inside. Love you!

  Selena: Love you back!

  Before I locked my phone, I re-read the messages Jack sent me when I pulled into the parking lot.

  Jack: I hope you’re still feeling relaxed. *devil emoji*

  Jack: Seriously though, have an amazing first day. I’m proud of you.

  Aunt Alma always said relying on luck was the lazy man’s path to success, but standing in the parking lot of Channel 3 after spending an orgasmic morning with Jack? Yeah, I was feeling pretty dang lucky.

  I dropped my cell in my purse and followed the sidewalk around to the building’s main entrance. “Patti, right?” I asked, greeting the woman behind the front desk. That was another lesson from Aunt Alma—remembering someone’s name was a free and easy way to make them feel like they mattered. “I’m Tuesday Collins. Today’s my first day.”

  “That’s right, you were in here last week.” She pulled a visitor’s badge from her top drawer and passed it to me. “This is just for now. You’ll get your employee badge later this morning. HR is on the second floor, and the elevator is down the hall to the left.”

  I slipped the lanyard over my head, and once she buzzed me through the frosted glass door, I followed her directions to the Human Resources suite.

  I spent the next few hours meeting people from HR, filling out paperwork, watching training videos that looked like they were filmed in the nineties, and taking my photo for my employee badge. The lady working the camera must’ve come from the Department of Motor Vehicles because she had zero personality, but the picture turned out well enough.

  I rubbed a thumb over my name, which was positioned above the words “Associate Producer” and beside the Channel 3 station logo. Six months ago, this badge would’ve meant I accepted failure because I didn’t follow through with my plan to graduate and explore the country.

  Now, I couldn’t help but feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be. Moving home and working at Cleopatra’s, applying for jobs outside the state and getting no hits… it was all for a greater purpose. I guess the inspirational quote about the arrow was right:

  An arrow can only be shot by pulling it backward. When life is dragging you back with difficulties, it means it’s going to launch you into something great. So just focus and keep aiming.

  A warm rush of emotion bubbled up from my chest as I made a mental note to thank Aunt Alma for her advice and unwavering support. I quickly tipped my head back and squeezed my eyelids shut while I felt around in my purse for a tissue to keep my tears from ruining my makeup.

  “Already regretting the job?”

  My eyes sprung open and landed on a short woman with a bright smile and a mop of mahogany curls piled on her head. “I thought I felt a sneeze coming on.” I abandoned my quest for tissues and dabbed the corners of my eyes with my knuckles instead.

  “Tell me about it. They moved studios about a month ago and I swear there’s still nineteen years of dust floating around the air ducts. Everyone’s allergies have been going crazy since then.”

  I almost laughed at the absurdity of the moment when she waved a hand and declared that I’d fit right in with the rest of the employees. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’m Rosario, and I’ll be giving you a tour of the station. You ready?”

  “Absolutely.” I followed her out of the HR suite, briefly pausing as she took my paperwork and dropped it into a metal inbox on an empty desk. “Cindy takes an early lunch. She’ll get to your stuff this afternoon and make sure the IT department puts you into the system. You should be able to log into your email by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Rosario led us down the hall to another set of glass doors past the elevator. “These are the administrative offices. Really, the only time you’ll come up here is if you need to use the vending machines or the individual bathroom. And head’s up—the work order on the front of the drink machine that says the dollar bill thing has been fixed is a lie.”

  I nodded studiously. “Admin suite for the private bathroom and only use change when I want to buy a drink. Got it.”

  “Since you already know where the elevator is, I’ll take you down the stairs so you can see where that lets out on the first floor. If you get tired when you’re on shift, I recommend running the stairs a few times. It’s saved me more times than I can count, and my ass appreciates it too. So where are you joining us from?”

  Without missing a beat, Rosario pushed open the door and bounded down the steps. I kept up with her as best as I could in three-inch heels. “I grew up in Newcastle and moved back home after college. How about you?”

  “I’m a military brat. We moved all over until eighth grade when my dad got assigned to Mountain Home Air Force Base. He ended up retiring from there and my mom decided she was tired of moving, so we stayed. I went to Boise State on a scholarship, which made Mom happy.”

  “She didn’t like the idea of you going out of state?”

  Rosario shook her head and rolled her eyes. “We’re Italian, so Sunday dinners are practically sacred. She didn’t want to forfeit four years of seeing her only daughter’s beautiful face at the table every weekend.”

  I hadn’t even reached the last step and I already had the highlights of my new co-worker’s life, along with a taste of her non-sequitur style of speaking. I liked her immediately. “So what do you do here?”

  “I’m on the web team. There are two of us on mornings, two on evenings, and one overnight. Though, between you and me,” she leaned in and cupped a hand to her mouth, “the overnight guy is a bit of a stick in the mud, so don’t expect to have these types of awesome conversations with him.”

  “Duly noted,” I said with a laugh as I followed her into the hallway.

  She pointed to the doors on opposite sides of the hall not too far from the elevator and the exit to the lobby. “These are the big bathrooms. We call them that because they have a makeup area and extra wide stalls so there’s plenty of room for changing clothes. The little bathrooms are outside the main studio.”

  “Why do I smell pizza?”

  Rosario took us down the hall and around the corner into a smaller, empty studio that featured two sitting areas and a small kitchen. “This is where we film Good Day Boise. The head chef of Don Parmesan was one of today’s guests and he made cauliflower crust pizza that surprisingly didn’t suck.”

  “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Right? And get this—it didn’t fall apart when you picked it up. I wouldn’t have believed it if I didn’t see it myself.”

  I clutched my imaginary pearls. “An Italian woman approving cauliflower pizza that doesn’t require a knife and fork. Wonders never cease.”

  She filled the studio with Italian laughter, which was just like English laughter, only much louder and twice as contagious. I didn’t stand a chance.

  “It sounds like a sorority house in here,” a bass voice said behind me. I turned to see an older man with a head full of salt-and-pepper hair—heavier on the salt—and a matching mustache standing at the entrance of the studio. His arms were crossed above his portly belly, which was covered in a red and black flannel shirt. He looked warm and friendly, but that’s about as far as that went.

  “And how would you know what a sorority house sounds like?” Rosario asked, one hand parked on her hip.

  “I’ve seen enough movies.”

  “Mm hmm.”

  As my gaze darted between them both, I wondered how I managed to get stuck in the middle of an awkward sandwich, and more importantly, how I was supposed to get out of it.

  Rosario smiled sweetly at the man before turning back to me. “Tuesday, this is Frank. He works on the assignments desk. He might look like Santa’s little brother, but everyone calls him the Grinch on account of his rosy personality. Don’t worry though—his heart grows three sizes every time he’s around me.”

  We both glanced at Frank, who shook his head and sighed.

  “Just wait,” Rosario whisp
ered out of the corner of her mouth.

  Frank tucked his fists tighter into the crooks of his elbows. Rosario matched his stance. After a few more seconds, Frank’s thick mustache twitched and then he rolled his eyes, dropped his arms to his sides, and smiled.

  “Told ya.” Rosario brushed her arm against mine and grinned back at the old man. “Frank, this is Tuesday. She’s our new AP. She’ll start working nights next week, but until then, she’ll be training with the morning shift.”

  The old man lifted his hand and waved once. “Nice to meet you, kid. I hope you stick around longer than the last two APs.”

  Uh oh. I’d assumed the position came open because the previous employee got an offer for a better job. The way Frank spoke made it sound like something else. I swallowed, forcing moisture back in my mouth. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what happened to them?”

  Rosario was the first to answer. “The one who left in August kept missing his shift, so they fired him. We’re not sure what happened to the one who took his place. Everything seemed fine. She was showing up to work on time, and then one day…” She made a “poof” motion with her hands. “I heard a rumor that she got caught stealing company property, but no one’s said anything officially.”

  Oh thank God. A sudden lightness replaced the lead brick in my chest, and I pulled in a deep breath. “It’s safe to say none of that will happen with me. I plan on setting multiple alarms, and the only thing I’ll be taking home is my lunchbox.”

  “Glad that’s sorted,” Frank said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Now if you don’t mind, some of us have to get back to work.”

  “We are working.” Rosario slid her arm around Frank’s elbow and steered him toward the doorway. I flanked her other side and followed. “As a matter of fact, I was just about to show Tuesday the main studio, starting with the most important part. The hub. The heartbeat. You know what that part is, Frank?”

  “The assignments desk?”

  “The assignments desk.” She patted his arm with her free hand. “Let’s go show Tuesday how the professionals do it.”

  It was Saturday night, two short days after Jack’s magic fingers gave me the best orgasm of my life, and Jack and I were having our first official date. There was just one problem. “Where are you taking me?” I asked for the umpteenth time as we drove through downtown Newcastle.

  “I told you—it’s a surprise.”

  “All my life, I thought the word ‘surprise’ meant something unexpected. Turns out, it actually means a form of torture.”

  Jack smiled and shook his head. “I only get one chance to take my girlfriend on a proper first date. I’m dragging this out as long as I possibly can.”

  The only clue he gave me was to wear something comfortable that I could move in, so Taylor helped me choose distressed black jeggings, a gray sweater with pink hearts on the elbows, and my favorite pair of Chucks. I kept my makeup light, just some mascara and vanilla lip gloss that Jack kissed off before we made it out of my apartment.

  “What if I guess where we’re going? Would you tell me if I was right?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, we’re heading west, so we could be going to Boise. Are we going dancing? Or maybe to that new indoor rock climbing place?”

  “I’m not answering any questions about tonight’s plan, and just so you know—the next time I surprise you, I’m bringing a blindfold.”

  Bingo. If he wouldn’t answer me directly, maybe I could distract him long enough to get some information. I reached over the console and slowly slid my hand up his inner thigh. “Is that your way of telling me you have a kinky side?”

  Chuckling, he linked his fingers over the top of mine and moved our hands back to the console. “That’s another thing I won’t be discussing right now.”

  “Afraid you’ll scare me away?”

  “Afraid I’ll get to our destination with a raging boner that will make my plan much more uncomfortable, not to mention embarrassing.”

  “Aha! We’ll be doing something in public if you’re worried about being embarrassed.”

  Jack let out a good-natured groan and shook his head again. “You’re relentless.”

  “I’m a planner. I like knowing I have my bases covered. What if I’m not dressed properly? What if—”

  “Stop.” He let go of my left hand so he could cover my mouth. “I already told you, you look beautiful and what you’re wearing is perfectly fine. You trust me, right?” When I nodded, he dropped his hand and re-linked his fingers with mine. “Good. Now close your eyes.”

  “Fiiine,” I huffed, though my smile let him know I wasn’t upset. Quite the opposite, actually. The guys I dated in college were few and far between, and none of them had ever put forth this level of effort. I let myself get lost in the moment, not paying attention to the twists and turns along our route as Jack hummed along to songs on the radio and absentmindedly stroked my palm with his thumb.

  After a few more minutes, he pulled into a parking space and stopped the car. “Okay, Miss Investigative Journalist, we’re here. You can open your eyes now.”

  I blinked a few times, and when everything came into focus, my mouth fell open.

  “Full disclosure, Diego and Erin helped me come up with the idea. I didn’t want to take you to dinner and a movie because that’s incredibly boring. Plus, I want to be able to talk to you. And as dumb as it sounds, now that I’m getting ready to say it out loud, I thought it would be fun to make a memory with you.”

  Objectively speaking, Jack had scored a twelve on a scale of one to ten. Palmer’s Outdoor Rink had been a holiday fixture in Newcastle for the last seventy-five years, and it was definitely the stuff memories were made of. It just so happened that in my case, my first and only memory at Palmer’s was twelve years ago and included a moment so mortifying I’d begged my dad to keep me out of school for a week.

  Want to guess who hadn’t worn ice skates since then?

  Yep.

  Beside me, Jack cleared his throat and rubbed his palms down the tops of his jeans. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a girlfriend. Is being rendered speechless for this long a good thing, or did I strike out on date night?”

  I reached for his hand over the console. “Keeping the baseball references going, you hit a homerun tonight. No one has ever done something this thoughtful for me.”

  “But…” he prompted.

  “But I don’t know how to ice skate.”

  “What?” His head jerked back and his eyes bulged. “Your favorite movie is The Cutting Edge!”

  “I know,” I said, lifting a shoulder. “I also loved watching Ice Castles when I was a kid, and I follow the winter Olympics religiously.”

  “So why don’t you know how to skate?”

  “I got invited to a birthday party here at Palmers when I was ten. There were kids younger than me gliding by like it was nothing, so I figured I’d have no trouble getting the hang of it. Turns out, I skated like a newborn giraffe. I fell less than a minute after getting on the ice.”

  “Lots of people fall their first time skating.”

  “But not everyone sets off a chain reaction that results in two concussions, a broken ankle, and a blade to the arm. I ended up taking out a third of the birthday party attendees, including the boy I had a massive crush on.”

  Jack made an effort to swallow his laughter. “I guess that changes things a little.”

  I nodded and flashed a self-deprecating smile as I held my finger and thumb an inch apart. “Juuust a little.”

  “That doesn’t mean you can’t start over tonight though. I’ll help you.”

  My gaze moved back to the rink and the skaters floating effortlessly across the ice. “I think you’re grossly overestimating my abilities.”

  “And I think you’re afraid to try something new.”

  Mouth open in protest, I turned back to Jack and poked his chest with my finger. “Am not! I literally do that fifty-two times a year.”
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  He tipped his head and pinned me with a look. “You try new things when there’s little risk of embarrassing yourself. Even the sign language episode—which was fantastic, by the way—took multiple shots before you felt like you had a good enough intro.”

  His assessment hit a little too close to home. I pulled in a deep breath and dropped my gaze to the console, tracing the edges of the cup holders as I struggled to put my emotions into words. “One of my biggest fears is making a fool of myself and people mocking me for it. When I fell on the ice that day and took my friends out in the process, everyone laughed… well, the ones who weren’t injured anyway. My only saving grace was that cell phones and social media weren’t that big of a deal back then.” I shuddered at the thought.

  Jack laced his fingers with mine again and tugged on my hand until I looked at him. “In case you’ve forgotten, I have an intimate relationship with that exact fear. Just remember that it’s okay to be vulnerable. No one’s perfect, and no one expects you to be perfect.”

  My heart, which was already teetering on the edge of Serious Feelings for Jack, bounced erratically inside my chest before landing somewhere in the abyss of butterflies in my stomach. I leaned my forehead against his and took a deep breath, savoring his cologne. “Okay, you win. I’ll go skating with you, but not before I point out that you’re wrong about one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Right now, in this moment, you’re pretty dang perfect.”

  Jack

  For the first few minutes on the ice, Tuesday shuffled her rented skates like a well-dressed Kindergartener while keeping a death grip on the waist-high perimeter of the rink. She looked adorable, and I bit my lip a half-dozen times to keep from telling her that. I also refrained from mentioning the actual Kindergarteners who were lapping her.

  “Should I take your picture so you can do a blog post on ice skating?”

  She kept her eyes fixed on her feet when she responded. “That’s okay. I’m going to take a night off from blogging and live in the moment.”