Caching In

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Caching In Page 5

by Tracy Krimmer


  “No, I don’t.” I wasn’t in the mood to be shot down, not before talking to Seth about our date. I couldn’t be more excited to tell her all about him, like a grade school girl gushing about the new guy in class.

  “I’ve got fifty bucks that says you do.”

  “Screw your fifty bucks. What’s fifty bucks? I don’t need your money.”

  Chelsea stuck her bottom lip out. “Please? Come on, do it for me. It’ll make me feel better.”

  She didn’t need to play her breakup and pregnancy cards against me so soon. Low blow, Chelsea, low blow. I wouldn’t admit it, but she did make a point. Being a teller was fine, and most days I enjoyed it, but when did I get to move up? When did my time come to shine? If I couldn’t succeed at love, I should excel in other areas, right? Something good must be out there for me. I let out a humph and snatched the money from her. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

  She smiled and added, “That’s the bank’s money. I’ll get you some of my own.”

  ----------

  The door to Daryl’s office remained shut, as always. He never followed an open door policy. Most days, he hung back behind that door doing who knows what. Throughout the day, he made appearances, crossing his arms over his chest as he paced at a crawl behind each of us. After a few laps, he settled on a place to stand, straightened his tie, and moved his hands to his hips. Observation of the team typically lasted around five minutes, and he’d head back to his office and shut the door again.

  The marquee on Daryl’s door was a badge he wore proud and flaunted as often as he could. He loved the title “Branch Manager,” although I didn’t know what made him stop there. Didn’t he crave to be Vice President of the entire bank? He reached branch manger and just stopped.

  I already claimed the fifty bucks, so I straightened my blouse, smoothed my skirt, and after inhaling a deep breath, exhaled as my fist met the door.

  “Come in,” his voice boomed through the door.

  It always felt awkward being the one to open his door, but I placed my hand on the silver, round knob and turned, considering for one last second to back out. As soon as I opened the door, the only option I had was entering.

  “Miss Couper.” He didn’t look up from his desk, simply stated my name. His focus lay on a pile of paper, and he seemed to be initialing in different areas. Besides his computer, the paper, a pen holder with simply two pens, and a framed picture of his two girls, who I believed were teenagers, sat on the desk. His divorce became final about a year ago, and his wife got custody of the girls. Daryl appeared outwardly to deal with it okay, never offering information about his personal life. The only reason I knew anything about his divorce was because he let it slip out at the bank Christmas party in December. I asked if his wife planned on attending, and he growled, stating she was now his ex-wife and he couldn’t be happier (though I doubted that to be true).

  The walls of the office never sat well with me. Painted deep burgundy, with the dark desk and black frames on the wall, the space felt so enclosed. I became borderline claustrophobic in Daryl’s office. Two rounded chairs sat in front of his desk, of which I welcomed myself to the one on the right. At first, I placed my hands on either side of the chair, and then in my lap. On the sides, I thought it gave the impression I ran the show, which I didn’t, yet, and on my lap, it seemed more respectful.

  “Daryl, er, Mr. Bell.”

  “Daryl is fine. What can I do for you, Ally?” He asked, bringing down the tone of the conversation to a more personable one.

  I scratched the back of my neck and cleared my throat. “I wanted to talk with you about the personal banker position that just opened up.”

  His eyes left the paper, finally making eye contact with me. “Sam’s old position?”

  “Yes, Sam. When he left, I thought you’d be filling it, and probably internally. I thought maybe -”

  He pulled his glasses off and set them on the desk. “You thought what, Ally, that you’re right for the position?”

  When he said it like that, it came off as demeaning. “Yes, actually. I think I’m a perfect fit.”

  He grazed the sides of his lips with his thumb. “Why is that, Ally? Please enlighten me on why you are the best person for the job.” He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms.

  This was the reason I didn’t want to come in on a whim. I hadn’t prepared. Asking for a promotion was no different than interviewing for a job. I needed to come prepared, fully able to give all valid points on why he should promote me over anyone else. Now the moment to prove myself presented itself, and because I let Chelsea talk me into it, I was destined to fail. “I … well, I’ve been here a number of years as a teller, and the customers really like me. I’ve never been late, and I’m pretty certain I’ve never called in sick, either.” I reiterated everything Chelsea said to me. Original.

  “And this qualifies you?”

  “There are other things, too.”

  “Like what?”

  Like what? Shit. Like what? I hadn’t done any cold calling, and while the customers liked me, I wasn’t the best at up selling. Some of the tellers sold additional services up to twice a week, and I was lucky to once a month. I wasn’t qualified for this. What was I thinking?

  Daryl capped his pen. He tapped it once on the desk before placing it back in the holder. “Ally dear, if you want to be a personal banker, that’s wonderful. I’m glad you want to move up in the ranks and better yourself. Not many out there want the same. However, if you’re going to be a banker and work with people on a more personal level, you need to be quicker on your feet. This is more than just developing relationships with customers. This is a sales position. You must be ready to sell at all times and help bring in business. I could care less about upgrading a checking account or if you open a savings account. We need the big sells. The IRA’s, the CDs, the credit cards. You need to bring in the clients willing to give us their money instead of the bank down the street.” He stood up, and walked behind me. His hands met the back of the chair, my hair moving slightly as he slid his hands across the back. “Promotions don’t come easy around here, Ally. You have to work hard for things you want.”

  A swallow caught in my throat. Was he suggesting what I thought? In all the years of working for Daryl, I never once imagined him to be the bottom-sucking-scumbag that would sexually harass a woman. No. He didn’t mean the ugly thoughts that clouded my mind. “I don’t think the position calls for any extra schooling, but if there are any classes or seminars you want me to take, I’m more than willing to put in the work.”

  His hand brushed my shoulder as he walked past me, and leaned back against the desk. Now he invaded my personal space. “Let me think about this. I may have some extra work for you that will help you get what you want.” He reached back and took his glasses off the desk and put them back on. “Is that all, Miss Couper?”

  I looked away from him at the dark wall. “Yes, Mr. Bell. I mean, Daryl.”

  “Good day, Miss Couper.”

  I rose from my chair, and he didn’t budge. As I moved past him toward the door, his breath hit my cheek. I realized if I wanted to move past my teller position, I’d have to do some things I didn’t want to do. Was I willing to do anything to move ahead? Was I that kind of person? The sad thing was, I didn’t know.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  “Did you go to the doctor yet?” Chelsea and I occupied a booth at a Mexican restaurant in town; our favorite, especially for the margaritas. Chelsea, however, couldn’t drink one, so I planned on having two. After my meeting with Daryl, I probably could’ve sucked down four, but I could only handle two.

  She shook her head as she pulled the burrito from her mouth, cheese landing on her chin. “Not yet. Next Tuesday. I figure I’m about six weeks.”

  “And you’re keeping it?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking. In all my years knowing Chelsea, never once did I remember her mentioning kids. An only child with parents still married and very much involved in her life, Ch
elsea loved being able to come and go as she pleased. Sneaking around with Daniel, she needed to be ready to go anywhere on a whim, and relationship or not, she liked the freedom.

  “Of course I am.” She stared at me in disbelief, shook her head and continued to eat her dinner.

  I wiped my hands on my napkin. “I’m sorry. I just thought since Daniel won’t be around that maybe you didn’t want to be a single mother.” She didn’t have a lot of time to mull things over yet, but as her best friend, I needed to make sure she looked at all angles.

  “Who said Daniel wouldn’t be around?”

  I sucked in a breath, holding in a scream. How many times would this conversation repeat itself? How long could I sit back and watch her live in her delusional world? As her best friend, I wanted to offer as much support as possible, but everyone had a breaking point. I didn’t want to keep pointing out her pitiful relationship, but the sooner she realized her relationship was on the path to nowhere, the better. “Chels, I heard him say he couldn’t see you anymore. Did you even bother to tell him you’re pregnant?”

  She picked up her glass of water and took a long drink. “Not yet. I’ll get around to it, after my appointment. I want to wait until I have the first ultrasound picture. As soon as he realizes there’s a tiny human being inside of me, that’s partially him, he’ll want to leave her and be with me.”

  “You’re kidding yourself. I hope you realize that.” I instantly regretted the comment, and the chuckle which followed.

  She didn’t offer a response, and I kind of didn’t blame her. Don’t get me wrong, Chelsea wasn’t stupid, but when it came to Daniel, I swear her brain left her body. I probably told her that in not so many words (a few too many times), and one day she wouldn’t be so understanding. Boundaries existed - I knew that. Sometimes, though, I turned off my filter (okay, let’s be honest here, I shut the filter off quite a bit). My bluntness hadn’t proved to be too much of a problem, but my mom always told me it’d bite me in the ass one day. I hoped today wasn’t the day.

  “Anyway, enough about me, now.” Thank God she changed the subject. I didn’t want to spend much more time on the topic. “Did you text that guy? I’m sorry, I forgot his name.”

  “Seth, and no, I didn’t. After what happened with Daryl, I can’t stand another rejection.” I finally met someone who I may want to move on from Josh with. I didn’t want to lose the opportunity before I even explored it. Seth, oh, he was so cute. I couldn’t help but wonder if he never planned on going out with me. He seemed like a nice guy, and maybe he was only being that, humoring me. I’d been on a few dates since Josh and I broke up, but no one caught my attention quite like Seth. Those dates ended in disaster, either with me being ditched, or me having Chelsea call to relieve me. I couldn’t deal with Seth turning me down, especially on the same day I fooled myself into thinking I could get a promotion.

  She picked up her knife and pointed it at me. “Now listen here, Ally. What happened with Daryl was shitty, but this guy told you to text him. He’s waiting to hear from you.”

  I reached across the table, put my hand on hers, and helped her lower it on the table. “Geez, don’t go all psycho on me.” I rubbed my hands across my face, stretching the skin as I groaned. “I’m not sure.”

  “What’s to be sure about? You met a good-looking guy and he wants to take you out. Let him.”

  Josh and I spent almost ten years together. Ten! Even though we were nineteen when we met, and I had a small list of past boyfriends on my list, I always was with someone. In the past few months, I enjoyed being single. I didn’t answer to anyone by myself. If I wanted Chinese take-out, dammit, I got it. When the television drove me crazy, I turned it off with no complaints. Those mornings I turned my speaker up and sang One Direction at the top of my lungs, no one stopped me. Something should be said, though, about the comfort of a familiar hand, the sound of a loving voice before closing my eyes at night. The single life provided me with unlimited opportunity and a guilt-free conscious when I pictured Harry Styles with his clothes off, but I missed being part of a couple. “I’m not sure I’m ready,” I told Chelsea, the truth finding its way out of my mouth.

  “Sometimes you’re not ready, but you have to go for it.” She pointed to her belly. “Think I was ready for this?” Holding her hand out, she added, “Text this guy already. Hand me your phone. I’ll do it for you.”

  No way was I letting that happen. Instead, I took my phone, found his number, and sent him a quick message asking him when he wanted to meet up. “There. Done. Now I’ll wait for him not to reply and be crushed with another bout of rejection today.”

  I didn’t even finish another sip of my margarita before my phone dinged. He replied already! Saturday, 2pm, meet me at the B&B. Wear loose shorts and a tank top. Okay, telling me how to dress - not a good sign, right? If we got together, would it turn into a Lifetime movie? Okay, now I grasped at straws trying to find a reason not to go on a date with him. Letting go of my stupid interpretations of his text, I asked him what he planned on us doing, and he replied, Not saying. Hope you like surprises.

  “That’s exciting, Ally! A surprise? I can’t remember the last time someone surprised me!” I glanced at her belly. “You know what I mean.”

  “I wonder what it could be, though. That’s an odd choice of clothes for a date. Obviously it’s not a movie or a fancy dinner. Maybe we’re going geocaching again?”

  Chelsea stuck her finger in her mouth. “That sounds so boring to me.”

  “What’s a fun date for you?”

  She looked down at the table. “I don’t know. I guess anything out in public.”

  That time I didn’t mean anything by what I said; it slipped out. I totally forgot the last time she went on a real date was right before she met Daniel. Some scumbag she met at a bar ended up ditching her for his friends and a few joints. Then Daniel came along and the rest took place behind closed doors. Barely, okay not even, a relationship. She considered it one, although for Daniel she was nothing more than a booty call.

  “Sorry, Chels.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” She grabbed a chip and dipped it in salsa. “Tell me about this Seth guy.”

  I shrugged a few times, grinning. “He’s super-hot, dark hair and eyes, and I haven’t seen it, but I’m pretty sure he has a smokin’ body. You know the bed and breakfast over on Charmain Drive? He and his sister own it.”

  “That’s pretty cool! Does he live there, too? Like is one of the rooms his?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t ask. Maybe I’ll find out on Saturday.” I lifted my eyebrows, and she got what I meant. “His sister seemed to be kind of uptight, though.” I started eating some of my food, realizing I was filling up more on alcohol than actual food. “She seemed pretty put out by me, and it was the first time I met her.”

  “Who cares? You’re not dating his sister.”

  “I’m barely dating him.” God, I hoped Saturday went well. I was perfectly happy going on about my life as I was, but I missed the intimate touch of another human being. I’d been with Josh so long, I got used to always having a hand to hold, lips to kiss. I missed it so much. I’d been on those few dates, but no one stuck with me like Seth did. “How am I going to hold it together until Saturday? I’m so anxious to see him!”

  “You’ll manage. I’m sure you’ll live at the gym like you normally do.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I don’t live at the gym. I like to workout. Sue me.” Exercise provided an outlet for me. My two favorite things at the gym were lifting weights and hitting the punching bag. After my breakup, I demolished the punching bag. I never met anyone quite into exercise like me. Sure, I could meet someone there, but when I went to the gym, my mind focused on my fitness. Chelsea thought I spent too much time there. I thought she spent too much time in her fantasy world with Daniel.

  “Well, I may be joining you in a few months. I’ll have a few pounds to get rid of.”

  “Oh, stop it!” I told her. Chelsea was a
dorable, and I was sure her weight would fall off after the baby was born. Even if it didn’t, who really cared? That baby would take up her whole life. No more after work drinks, random road trips, or even quiet time alone. In a few months, her life would change drastically. I hoped she knew what she was doing.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The week flew by faster than I thought it would, considering how much time I spent filled with worry and anxiousness over my upcoming date with Seth. I expected each day to drag as I anticipated the date, but they didn’t. Chelsea didn’t speak too much about her pregnancy. I didn’t know if that was a good or bad thing. I wondered if she spoke to Daniel, but held onto a gleam of hope she came to her senses and decided not to even tell him. If by some miracle, she decided to move on, and I mentioned his name, she would run back into his arms, and it would be no one’s fault but my own. I couldn’t deal with that. I didn’t approach Daryl, either, regarding my promotion. Thinking he made it clear only a blow job secured my future at the bank, I kept things on a professional level. I answered questions when asked, and spoke when spoken to, avoiding association with him beyond that. I sure wasn’t doing what he wanted to get the job, but if I put my mind to it, I was determined to prove I could get the promotion on my merits alone.

  Saturday finally arrived, a morbidly rainy day, and I laid in bed most of the morning, waiting for Seth’s text canceling our date. The rain didn’t mesh well with any plans to be outside. Although, as a seasoned geocacher, Seth probably would never let a few raindrops ruin an adventure. Since he cut our last geocaching expedition short, I hoped to do it again, but not in the rain.

  By almost noon, the dreaded text hadn’t arrived, so I finally got out of bed and took a shower, preparing for our date. I took a quick one, and decided to let my hair air dry - it’d take a good two hours, but that’s about what I had for time - and if we were going geocaching, I didn’t want to do anything special with it, except toss it in a ponytail.

 

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