Or maybe it was me. I could’ve just been love-struck.
Shaking my head, I left the counter. It was probably best I let dad finish his business without me drooling over his clients anymore than I already had. Ignoring his warning, I moved towards the back room, where dad’s young employees, Race and Preston, where working to clean up clothing spills. I started stacking boxes, wondering why I was thinking about someone who I didn’t know—and who had no desire to know me—and how I would most likely never see him again…
*
“Is Chanel coming for the trip this weekend?” Dad asked on the drive home later that night.
I shrugged. “I doubt it. Chanel isn’t, well, you know… the motorized vehicle type.”
Dad snorted. “At first glance, no one would think you were, either.”
“Was that a prep joke?” I shot the old man a cross eye.
“No.” He was still smiling. “I’m just saying by first glance you don’t look like the type of girl to ride—”
“It was a prep joke!” I gasped. “Shame on you. Making fun of your own daughter!”
“I was not! I was just saying!”
“I’m not talking to you.” Folding my arms, I stared out the window.
Silence filled the car. The low hum of the radio became the only audible noise to the human ear, then suddenly—
“OOOOH! There was a father had a girl and Rosie was her name-O,” dad sung loudly and off key. “R-O-S-I-E! R-O-S-I-E!”
“Dad! Dad, stop it!” I cried, trying not to laugh. He even had his window down. God only knew who could hear him!
“R-O-S-I-E and Rosie was her name-O!”
“You are embarrassing! So, embarrassing!” I clawed at my face, sinking into the passenger seat as a blue Toyota passed the car. This was so typical dad. If there was ever a contest for most humiliating parent, he would take home the gold.
“Hmm?” Dad perked up. “Oh, I thought you said you weren’t talking to me.”
I ground my teeth together, silent.
“OOOH!”
“Alright! Ok, stop it!” I demanded before another car could pass with their windows down. “Fine. Fine, I’m talking to you. See? Ugh, you’re so manipulative.”
He held his head high, triumphant. “Hey, I’m dad. I get to be manipulative,” he said. “I’m raising you, young lady.”
“Hmph.” I still pouted. It was hard to feel self-control around someone who was a controller. After a while I got bored of sitting in silence and asked, “So who’s this new employee?”
I’d gone into his office again before closing. He’d had the stack of employee applications out, which were usually filed away under his desk. Dad never passed out an application unless he was interested in someone. The last time they’d been out was when we were hiring Greg three months ago.
“Who said I was hiring a new employee?”
I scuffed. “Duh, the employee applications were out.”
“Oh.” He pursed his lips, seeing he’d been caught. “Eh, it’s no one in particular. Just a nice person who’s in need of a job.”
I cocked an eyebrow. “Wow. That tells me a lot. Thanks, dad.”
He expelled a cocky laugh. “I think you’ll like them.”
“I love how you’re not pointing out whether it’s a boy or girl.”
Now it was his turn to be silent.
“So you’re not going to tell me. That’s interesting.” I observed his facial features. Sometimes, if I was lucky, I could tell exactly what was going through his head just by watching his face. The twitch of the eye, the sound of the voice, even the shape of the smile. Dad wasn’t hard to read if you knew him well enough.
My eyes went wide. “It’s a boy,” I declared. “I bet you twenty bucks. You hired another boy.”
“Maybe I didn’t. Maybe I did.” He shrugged, all casual acting. “I saw a lot of people this afternoon. There were several that showed up while you were in the back room. Could’ve been anyone.”
I narrowed my eyes, still staring. He was getting better at throwing off the trail lately, making my psychic powers dramatically waver. Over the last couple months he’d been practicing facial expressions and phrases that told me little to nothing. It hadn’t been too aggravating until now. His smile didn’t change or falter, the gleam in his eye stayed in place. I waited for him to crack under the pressure of having me stare so fiercely, but he didn’t budge.
“It’s a boy,” I said, nearly sure. The question was: was it someone Joe’s age or a teenager, like Race or Preston? I settled back in my seat. “Does Joe know who it is?”
“No.”
“Don’t you usually tell Joe everything?”
“I do, but we started getting busy with the after-work rush while you were helping the boys clean up in back. We didn’t have much time to talk after that.”
My nails tapped on the box between the seats. “I see…”
I was still guessing when we turned onto the tiny road of Johnson Avenue. Our house was small, but quaint. It wasn’t that dad couldn’t afford a bigger house; he chose not to (a bigger house meant more to clean up and keep organized). He liked a smaller place, and to be honest I agreed with him. It was homier than mom’s huge flat in the city. Her bathroom alone was probably the size of dad’s living room.
We pulled into the driveway next to my black Mitsubishi. “Home sweet home,” I said, exiting the vehicle. Stepping into the hallway, I opened the closet and dumped my shoes and backpack on the floor.
“Na-uh-uh!” Dad exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the pile. “Shoes go in the rack, backpack gets hung up! We’re not going to start up another mess. You know how long it took me to clean that closet last year? You weren’t even living here then.”
“Perfectionist.” I set my shoes inside one of the cubbyholes of dad’s self-made shoe organizer, then hung my backpack on a hanger—one that I hoped would hold the numerous text books I was carrying this term.
“Are you hungry?” Dad asked, hanging up his jacket.
I nodded. “But it’s not a big deal. I can make myself something.”
“I’ll make some soup and grilled cheese sandwiches,” he decided.
Walking down the hall, I went to the first door on my right. My bedroom was the second largest room in the house. Pinks and blues were favored here (I read a lot of home magazines and favored a colorful room). I was granted my own computer and desk, where I spent most of my free time.
I flopped down on the bed and started taking off my track suit. Pulling on a nightie, I went to draw the curtains.
A dark figure caught my eye outside.
They stood on our side of the sidewalk, about twenty paces from my window. The moon was covered by clouds tonight and our porch light was out, making it hard to identify the shape. It was a person, no doubt, but they weren’t moving. They were still as a lawn ornament.
The hairs on the back of my neck bristled, just like they did earlier today when I thought one of the teenage customers had been watching me. Dad and I lived in a low crime area compared to other parts of LA, but that didn’t mean we lacked weirdoes. There had been a few scary cases now and then.
I took proper precautions and fiddled with my lock on the window. I’d just looked up to finish closing the curtains.
The sidewalk was empty.
*
Chanel and I established during locker room shower time that she would not be attending the weekend trip. After numerous reassurances that it really wasn’t a big deal—I’d already expected her absence—we got dressed, braided our hair, and headed out to the last fifteen minutes of lunch.
“Hey guys.” I took a seat beside Ashley.
“Hey,” Ashley replied, sticking a nacho in James’ mouth. Cheese oozed down the side of his lip and she caught it with her pinky before licking it off.
“Hey, beautiful.” The girl with cinnamon hair known as Tansy winked at me from across the way.
Cheyenne poked me in the stomach, chiming: “I can’t
wait for this weekend!”
“Oh! Speaking of this weekend.” I looked around at everyone, waiting until I had their attention before continuing, “You guys need to pick up pre-excuse forms from the office. You’re going to want Friday and possibly Monday excused if we decided to stay longer.”
The table went strangely quiet. Tansy poked at her food and Ashley had slowed way down on the nachos. “Um,” Ashley started. She turned to fully face me. “Rose, I’m not sure how to say this, but James and I can’t go this weekend.”
“Oh.” My eyebrows shot up in surprise. She’d always gone with me. Every year now since eighth grade. “Wow. Why not?”
“I’m playing my guitar downtown at the Viper and Vixen,” James answered. “They’re having a special, one-night-only, battle of the bands kind of thing. They’re going to have judges from some major record labels there. It’s a really big opportunity.”
“Yeah, it’s major,” Ashley agreed. Her lips pulled down at the corners. “I’m so sorry though, Rose.”
“No. No, it’s alright!” I tried to hide my disappointment. Her plans were a way bigger deal than mine. I knew the couple dreamt of nothing more than scoring a record label’s attention. It was an incredible chance. “You’ll just have to come on our next trip.”
“For sure.” They nodded in unison.
“I can’t either, Rose.” Tansy shook her head. “It’s me and Danny’s one month anniversary.”
“Oh. Ok.” Another wave of shock, but that also made sense. If I had a boyfriend, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss our one month, either. That was a serious milestone for a couple, especially when you were in high school. “Alright, so who is going this weekend? Me, obviously.”
“I’m going!” Cheyenne raised a hand high into the air. “I’ll pick up the slip after lunch is over.”
“Awesome,” I said, turning my attention to my squished PB and J sandwich. That’s two people out of all of us.
4) New Employee
B y the time school ended, I was feeling somewhat emotional. Between being let down by my friends and failing my German test last class, I wasn’t in the best frame of mind as I left the building. As if that wasn’t enough, upon walking out to retrieve my car, I found Derek and his crew hanging around.
I clutched my keys, the metal leaving indents in my palm. I would’ve bet an arm and a leg he’d parked by me on purpose. I almost considered taking the bus again like I had yesterday, but dad would blow a fuse if I left my car in the school parking lot all night… of course, I could make him come back later and get it.
Oh, stop it, I thought. Heck, it’s just Derek! If he’s got something to say… just run him over. I cackled with that last thought. Run him right out of your way.
I marched towards the Mitsubishi, head held high. I didn’t even act like I’d noticed his bunch standing nearby. I was closing in on my destination when their guffaws and chatter died. The presence of eyes made me stiffen a little.
“Well, look who it is,” said one of the goons.
Derek chuckled. “Hello, Rosalia.”
“Derek,” I said as I stopped by the driver’s side, not looking up.
“How you doin’?” He shifted nearer.
I jammed my key in the car door. “Just fine, thanks.”
“Really?” He leaned over and laid an arm on the Mitsubishi’s hood.
My temple pulsed. I hated people’s greasy, germy hands all over my car, especially if they belonged to someone like Derek. God only knew where his hands had been. “Arm off the hood, Derek,” I demanded, throwing my stuff inside.
“OOOooooh!” The gang crooned.
“You gonna take that, Derek?”
“Yeah, you gonna let her order you around like that, man?”
He didn’t move, so I shot him a glare. That supercilious smile that Derek was famous for was there, curving his boney face. “Are you deaf?” I snapped. “Get your arm off my hood before I smack you one!”
They all laughed. “Is that a threat?” Derek leaned even closer, flicking his eyebrows in a flirtatious gesture. “Or a promise?”
I wrinkled my nose before jumping in the car and slamming my door shut. Even through the insulation I could hear them hooting as I revved the engine. They all waved and pointed and made catcalls like a bunch of third graders as I buzzed out of the school grounds. “So immature,” I muttered.
I was still fuming when I arrived at the shop.
“You look uptight,” Dad commented. He was sitting behind the counter with some papers, watching his daughter stomp through the doors. Joe stood off to his side, sipping from his usual coffee mug.
“Did not have a good day.” I thrust my purse under the counter—with more force than intended—then dropped onto a stool. “Ugh! Boys are so stupid! Jeez, do they ever grow up?”
Joe snorted. “Not usually. Some do, but it takes time.”
“Yeah, well… they suck.” I crossed my arms on the front desk, laying my head on top of them.
Dad chortled as he returned to marking things on his paperwork. “I wondered how long it’d take for me to pound that into your head.”
“Hey, boss?” Race rounded the corner just then, tossing his brown hair to the side. He had a clipboard in his hands. “Do you want me to order some more of these? We’re nearly out.”
Dad straightened up, looking at the clipboard where Race’s finger rested. “Oh. Yeah, go ahead.” He watched the boy settle at the computer behind me. My eye twitched. Of course, I didn’t want any young men around me and I got stuck near the one that enjoyed annoying me. “And Race?”
“Yeah, boss?” Race didn’t turn as he logged onto the server.
Dad smirked. “Boys suck.”
Joe chuckled as I shot my old man a look. For the next year worth of holidays now, I was probably going to be receiving mugs and shirts and anything else they could find with that two-word phrase on it.
Race glanced back with a funny expression, then realized they were eyeing me. “Oh. Right, boss.” He smiled before going back to work.
Filing his finished paperwork away, Dad scooted back from the counter and stretched. “You ready to go get lunch, Joe?” he asked.
“Ready when you are, Cory.”
“Rosie, Joe and I are going to run and grab some chow,” dad informed, rising from the counter. Patting Race on the shoulder, he said to me, “I know you, uh, aren’t in the mood, but keep an eye on this one for me?”
Race grimaced. I glowered, tempted to lift my lip and growl. “Yeah,” I muttered.
Joe grabbed dad’s car keys from under the counter, chucking them in his direction. Dad checked his pocket for his wallet, then crossed the floor. Waving from the main doors, he called, “Be back in about twenty minutes, honey!”
“Have fun,” I replied as they headed towards his Sentra.
Somehow, right between two and three in the afternoon were the shop’s slow hours. You’d think it’d be packed because it was between lunch and five’ o’clock traffic, but we weren’t popular again until after four. Pursing my lips, I jiggled my legs below the desk, bored. I could’ve done my homework. Or toured the shop for something I hadn’t seen a hundred times… or sent Race away to get me some Starbucks (when you’re the boss’s daughter you sometimes have power over things like that).
I had just pressed my face to the counter when the bell on the door jingled. Raising my head to greet the customer, my eyes fell on a familiar face. My stomach dropped like I’d just descended down a roller coaster track.
It was Dreadlocks Boy.
Straightening up, I threw my hair out of my face, combing it flat with my fingers as he approached. Hopefully I didn’t look like something the cat dragged in. Where was an emergency mirror when you needed one? Did I look presentable? I guess it didn’t matter because he wasn’t looking at me; he was staring at some papers in his hands. Purposely avoiding eye contact? Maybe. He appeared to be alone today, no friends slinking in behind him.
I felt all uptigh
t as his footsteps stopped in front of the counter. “Hi, can I help you?” I asked—without embarrassing myself this time.
“Yeah. Hi.” Those dusty blue eyes finally met mine. “Is Mr. Ridgewood here?”
“Oh, um, he ran out for a minute. He’ll be back shortly.” I swallowed. My mouth had gone dry. “Um, is there something I can do for you?”
“These are for him.” He carefully set the papers on the counter. “I wasn’t sure when he wanted me to start.”
“Start?” That wasn’t a statement I was prepared for. What did start mean? Furrowing my brows, I reached for the documents. I expected to see an order form or receipt for merchandise, but instead my eyes were skimming our code of ethics sheet, something dad made his employees sign. What the heck? How did he get a hold of this? It hit me after I saw a scribbled signature near the bottom of the page.
Oh my goodness.
“S—so you’re the new employee I’ve been hearing about!” I stammered, forcing a smile to hide the shock. “Oh, awesome. Cool. Welcome to the team.” “Mm-hmm.” He bit his lip. His expression said: well, you’re weird.
My smile fell. My chest was about to break out in hives, an unattractive trait my mother had passed on when we were angry or nervous. “Just, uh, just a minute.” I picked up the phone and dialed dad’s cell.
He answered on the second ring. “Yeah, honey?”
“Dad, your—um—your new employee is here,” I informed.
Silence.
“He is, huh?” Dad tried to keep the amusement from his voice.
A Taste of Silver Page 4