by Tawna Fenske
“You should stop by and say hello, Adam,” Ernie gushed, looking almost manic in her delight. “She’s probably just been too busy to call you back, but maybe if she sees you in person—”
“I have to run, Aunt Ernie,” Adam said, cutting her off with another peck on the cheek before straightening up to give a friendly nod to the rest of our assembled group. “Great to see everyone again. Especially you, JJ.”
Then he turned and jogged out the door. I sat there stunned for a moment, wondering if I should call and warn my sister.
“More beer?” Collin asked, breaking the silence at last.
“Thank you,” I said, nudging my glass toward Collin as I regarded Ernie thoughtfully. “I grew up determined to go to college so I could have an office job instead of running heavy equipment, and Adam got a degree so he wouldn’t have to run his dad’s auto shop, and now here we both are.”
“Oh, honey, life’s never that simple,” Ernie said, taking a sip of something pink from a frosty glass. “I’ve got a degree in English Lit, and I run a thrift store.”
“BS in Biology,” Burt added, digging a hand in the peanut bucket.
“MBA,” Pete said, reaching over to the empty table beside us and grabbing a fresh bucket of peanuts. “Football scholarship.”
Startled, I looked around the table to see whose educational details I’d missed. “How about you, Collin?”
Collin took a swallow of beer. “PhD in quantum physics. Masters in Chemistry. Uh, a second Masters in Theology. A Bachelors in Chemical Engineering.”
“Wow,” I said. “All that is required for your job?”
“Just the Bachelors. The rest is for fun.”
“Fun,” I repeated, waiting for him to smile. He cracked a peanut and studied the shell.
“Collin is our resident geek,” Ernie said fondly. “We keep trying to get him to go on Jeopardy, but he’s camera shy.”
“Oh?” I asked, amused by this for some reason. “I used to do media training with all the county executives. I could do a quick session for you sometime.”
“Thanks,” Collin said, giving me an odd look as he set a peanut shell on a tidy pile beside his coaster. “What department did you say you worked for again?”
“Marketing and public relations,” I replied.
“Really.”
I couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement, but since we’d discussed my previous department just a few minutes earlier, I had the sense he was trying to trap me somehow. Before I had a chance to find out what the hell he was driving at, Ernie grabbed hold of the conversation – and my arm.
“So JJ, we were just helping Pete decide on a birthday gift for his girlfriend. Maybe Lori’s little boutique would be a good place for him to look?”
“Oh. Sure, absolutely. Does she like handbags?”
Pete looked at me. “Is that the same thing as a purse?”
I smiled. “Pretty much. Lori sells a lot of high-end stuff, plus some of her own designs.”
“Her work is just lovely,” Ernie gushed. “Really, that would make such a nice birthday gift.”
I smiled and looked at Pete. “I hang out at Lori’s shop most evenings after work. We’d be happy to show you a few gift ideas if you want.”
“That’d be great,” Pete said. “Maybe I’ll drop by tomorrow evening after I finish up at the landfill.”
I stole a glance at Collin, who took another sip of beer and didn’t blink. He studied me with an expression that wasn’t the least bit friendly. I stared back, replacing my normal, easy smile with a look I hoped was at least a little intimidating.
It might have worked great if I hadn’t knocked my beer over.
Collin’s hand shot out, righting the glass before I lost more than a tablespoon.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, pulling my hands into my lap.
Collin nodded once, watching me with a bemused expression.
Perhaps sensing the tension, Ernie jumped into the conversation. “I’m so glad you came tonight, Collin. You’ve missed the last four or five happy hours.”
“Right,” Collin agreed. “Well, this seemed like a splendid opportunity to keep an eye on our new colleague.”
I frowned at him. “Keep an eye?”
He cracked a peanut in one hand. “Get to know.”
“Do those two expressions mean the same thing in England or do you have some reason for acting like you’re trying to discern if I’ve arrived at the landfill to make your life miserable or to infiltrate the chess club?”
“Yes.”
I backtracked through my convoluted line of questioning and tried to determine what exactly had prompted the affirmative response. Before I could figure it out, Ernie touched my arm.
“JJ, sweetie, tell us all about your boyfriend. You said he’s in accounting?”
I turned back to Ernie, trying to ignore the funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.
THE NEXT MORNING, Collin was waiting beside Shirley when I came out to start my day. He wasn’t smiling.
“Burt said now was a good time to replace the memory card in your GPS unit,” he said.
“Good morning to you, too,” I said, taking a sip of coffee from the paper cup I’d grabbed in the break room. “How are you doing?”
He sighed. “Fine, thank you.” He nodded at my coffee cup. “Feeling a bit knackered, what with the pints last night and the early mornings with this job?”
“I’m fine, thank you. I just happen to like coffee.”
“One more benefit of your new employment – you just pitch the cup out the window when you’re done. Can’t very well do that in an office.”
“My last office didn’t even have a window. I worked in a cube farm.”
“In that case, your view has improved dramatically.”
I looked out over the mountains of garbage surrounding me, thinking he was more right than he probably realized. I smiled and took another sip of coffee.
“So you appeared here rather suddenly,” Collin said, not meeting my eyes. “Strange circumstances and all. Were you sacked?”
“What?”
“You lost your other job?”
“Oh. Right. Not sacked, exactly. Repositioned.”
“I see,” he said. “Quite unusual, wouldn’t you say? Transferring someone from an office job to a position of this sort.”
“You can say that again,” I muttered, taking another sip of coffee.
“And yet, you don’t seem bothered.”
I looked at him. “I’m not. I was so tired of the office job I had to fight the daily urge to set my desk on fire.”
“So is arson a hobby for you, or just another potential profession?”
I looked at him, trying to figure out if he’d just made a joke. He sure as hell wasn’t smiling, but I wasn’t sure he was actually capable of smiling.
Collin watched me as well, his expression somewhere between amusement and suspicion. He didn’t blink. I considered poking him to see if he was still breathing.
I took another sip of coffee instead. “I needed a change,” I told him finally. “This job seemed like a good one.”
Collin didn’t say anything. He watched a crow pick something yellow off the windshield of the compactor. He took a slow sip of coffee. It was like one of those cop shows where the good guy tries to get the bad guy to confess to something using a prolonged, painful stretch of silence. I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to confess to, except maybe that I’d pictured him in his underwear once since the start of the conversation.
I cleared my throat and gestured at something in his hand. “So what do you have there?”
“A memory card for your GPS unit,” he said, holding up the tiny black square. “We’re starting a new lift today – that’s a new level in the pits – so this has all the elevations and grids you’ll need.”
I nodded, taking another sip of coffee. “I have to admit, I never knew there was so much science behind garbage.”
“Most people
don’t,” he said, flipping the little memory card back and forth between his fingers in a way that distracted me. “Most people just wheel their rubbish bins down the driveway once a week and don’t think about what happens after that.”
“So how does this GPS system work exactly?” I asked. “Burt showed me the basics yesterday, but the program was already loaded then.”
Collin pointed toward Shirley. “The GPS unit sits right there on your blade, and the receiver is up on top. I did all the surveying to identify the low points for the lift and figure out the best slope. This will essentially show you where to go in the cell, where to fill in the lower areas, where to pack rubbish in spots that are a bit higher – that sort of thing.”
“Burt said he’s going to be on the Dozer today,” I said. “So I guess he’ll be pushing and I’ll be squashing.”
“Yes,” he said, the corner of his mouth quirking slightly. “Those are the precise industry terms.”
I surveyed the cell, avoiding Collin’s eyes. “I spoke with my – with the director of accounting? About the call he made yesterday. It won’t happen again, and I don’t have asthma.”
“I take it he’s a friend of yours?”
“Sort of. We’ve been dating off and on for awhile.”
“Ah,” Collin said, studying me as he took off his glasses and wiped the lenses on the hem of his shirt. “And how does he feel about your career change?”
“Not great,” I admitted, taking a small sip of coffee. “We’re taking a bit of a break right now. He’s not wild about my job change, but at least he hasn’t asked me to pick between him and the dump.”
Collin laughed, startling me so much I looked up at him. His eyes crinkled pleasantly at the corners, and he had a dimple in his right cheek.
It was the first time I’d seen him with a full-wattage smile. The effect was completely disarming.
“In that case, I feel for the poor chap,” Collin said, still smiling. “It’s tough to compete with decaying rubbish.”
“Or heavy machinery,” I added.
He raised an eyebrow at me. “I’m not going to touch that.”
“Funny, I think he said the same thing.”
Collin laughed again and put his glasses back on. I bit my lip, reeling a little from the effects of his smile. Straight-faced or snarling, Collin was merely attractive.
But smiling like that, he was actually kind of hot.
I made a mental note not to make him smile too often. That was the last thing I needed in my life at the moment.
TWO HOURS LATER, I cruised along in Shirley while contemplating life, love, and the proper techniques for crushing an armoire.
Strange as my career switch might seem to others, I knew I’d found the right fit. Okay, so I smelled a little funny at the end of a workday, and this wasn’t how I’d pictured my life when I sat through advanced college courses on marketing.
But it was how I’d pictured my life when I was eight. Especially the pink hard hat. Maybe there’s something to be said for trusting youthful instincts?
I considered that as I crushed a dead fern in a blue clay pot. Five years of stiff suits and important meetings hadn’t made me half as happy as a couple days of running over garbage in a 150,000-pound machine. I knew there was an important life lesson in there somewhere.
I also knew I liked the people I worked with now a whole lot more than I’d liked my colleagues in the marketing department. True, there was something odd about a guy like Pete working as a secretary at a landfill, and Collin seemed mistrustful of me, but I saw no reason deep suspicion should interfere with good working relationships.
I thought about that some more as I ran over an orange rocking chair with a limp balloon tied to the back.
My mind found its way to my relationship with Daniel. It wasn’t the first time in our relatively short courtship that we’d agreed to cool things off a bit, but it was the first time I’d been the one to suggest it. In the past, I’d been drawn to his protectiveness and the way he looked out for me. Now, that was what rubbed me the wrong way, particularly when it came to questioning my career choices.
I veered a little to the left, crushing a water-stained bookshelf and something that looked like a bag of meat.
I steered Shirley up a slight incline, feeling cheerful in spite of everything weighing on my mind. I had a great new job. I had fun new co-workers. I had my health, a loving family, a nice house, and an excellent cat. I had a very good life.
I ran over a rolled up carpet.
A shoe fell out of one end.
I gasped. The hair on my arms stood straight up, and I shut the engine off without thinking. My heart was pounding in my ears.
I sat there staring at the shoe, staring at the familiar outline of a shape inside the carpet roll. I blinked hard, trying to make them go away.
The radio on my belt crackled to life.
“JJ?” Burt said. “You okay over there?”
I swallowed and reached for my radio.
“Burt, you’d better come here.” I barely recognized my own voice. “I think I just ran over a body.”
CHAPTER THREE
Burt was on the ground beside Shirley before I could say another word. My hands shook as I unfastened my seatbelt and pulled the key out of the ignition. Slowly, I stepped out of the cab.
“This carpet?” Burt said, nudging it with his boot. “This what you saw?”
I nodded as I grabbed hold of the rail and started down the steps. “A shoe fell out,” I said, swallowing the lump that had lodged itself in my throat. “A silver stiletto. And I saw a shape – I don’t know what, but something’s rolled up inside that rug.”
“I didn’t see anyone dump it,” Burt said, stepping closer to the bundle. “Must’ve come in on one of the garbage trucks.”
“What do we do?” I didn’t like the squeak in my voice.
“We look inside. We call the cops if there’s – if there’s anything to call them about.”
We both stood there for a moment, hesitating.
“Is there a problem?” shouted a voice from above us.
I looked up at the edge of the pit. Collin was standing there beside the 4WD Ranger he used to make rounds between chemical monitoring stations.
“JJ saw something,” Burt said. “We got a rolled up rug here with an unidentified object inside.”
Collin crouched down and leapt gracefully onto a freshly compacted plot of rubbish. Slowly, he made his way to stand beside me. I felt the warmth radiating from his arm and shivered.
Burt looked at the bundle beside his foot. He scratched his crotch. Then he bent down and grabbed the edge of the carpet.
“Do you need me to back Shirley up a few feet?” I asked, my voice still shaking.
“No, it’s not wedged under there too far. One good yank and it’ll come out. Ready?”
I didn’t trust myself to speak. I just nodded. Beside me, Collin nodded once.
“Here we go,” Burt said.
And with one hard jerk, he pulled the carpet free. It seemed to unroll in slow motion, the rug unfurling away from us in a tumble of stained blue fuzz.
Then it was open. The three of us stared. A crow squawked overhead. None of us said a word.
“Son of a bitch,” Burt said finally.
“What kind of sick joke is that?” I gasped.
“Why would you put shoes on your bloody inflatable sex doll?” Collin mused, cocking his head to the side for a better look.
Burt nudged it with his toe. “She’s not inflatable. See? Foam rubber. Thick stuff. Heavy, too. The shoe probably shot right off the end of her foot when JJ ran her over.”
“You’re right,” Collin said, nodding approvingly. “Nice how the knickers match the brassiere.”
I sank down on the edge of the compactor, my heart still in my throat. I couldn’t believe it.
“That’s like the oldest landfill cliché in the book,” I sputtered. “A dead body in a rolled up carpet. I was sure that�
�s what it was. Why would someone do that with a sex doll?”
Collin’s expression was actually sympathetic. “Maybe some poor chap didn’t want the wife to see it,” he suggested. “Or his mum. You have to admit, it’s rather dodgy business trying to dispose of a used love doll. Can’t very well stuff her in your roll-cart and wheel her to the end of the driveway.”
“I feel like an idiot,” I said, balling my hands into fists.
“Don’t,” Burt said, stepping away from the bundle and patting my shoulder with a gloved hand. “I would have done the same thing. Besides, it’s good that you’re paying attention. That you’re noticing stuff like this.”
“A sex doll,” I muttered. I stole a glance at Collin to see if he was laughing at me. He wasn’t, and for once he wasn’t staring at me with suspicion. I considered that progress.
“Here,” Burt said, stooping to pick something out of the rubbish at his feet. “A flower to cheer you up.”
He held out a piece of tattered fabric and I opened my hand to catch it. The orange-red rose fluttered into my palm.
“Kate Spade,” I sniffed, looking closely at the design.
“What?”
I held up the fabric scrap, turning it sideways for a better look. “A handbag designer. This fabric is from her Baton Rouge line.”
“Huh,” Burt said, not sounding very impressed.
I looked down at the heap where Burt had found the fabric. “Hey,” I said, leaning down to retrieve another piece of material. “This is Coach. And this looks like something from Gucci. And this—”
“Is that egg salad?” Collin surveyed the scrap I’d just picked up.
“These are fakes,” I said, holding up a piece of faux leather bearing an equally faux Louis Vuitton logo. “Bad ones, judging from the quality of this fabric.”
“I think Ernie has a bunch of those fancy purses up there in the thrift store,” mused Burt. “They turn up here pretty often and people are always showing up to buy ‘em.”
“Tell her to get rid of them,” I said, standing up with my fistful of colorful fabric. “Buying or selling knockoffs is terrible. It’s just like stealing from the designer.”