Caching In

by Tracy Krimmer

  The drive to Panera took about twenty minutes. Traffic moved fairly smoothly, and I counted my blessings for that. The one thing I hated more than my cheating, asshat ex-fiance, was traffic. Most times I appeared crazy in the car as I screamed at people cutting me off. Or, maybe, I was the stupid driver. Whatever. It’s always easier to blame someone else.

  Slow times didn’t exist at Panera. Regardless of the time I walked in, the place was busy. Even though Daryl hadn’t arrived yet, I ordered my food and grabbed the only available table, a tiny round one stuffed in the corner by the soft drink dispenser. I sat down, taking no shame in beginning my meal. Eating may or may not have been a good idea. I figured if I faced Daryl on an empty stomach, I may possibly pass out, but, if I ate, I risked puking all over him due to my nervousness. The latter seemed more fun.

  Mid-bite, I almost choked, as Daryl reared his head by hovering over me from behind. “Already eating, huh?”

  I considered responding with a sarcastic, “looks that way,” but didn’t want to start off on a bad foot, so, instead, I apologized. “I didn’t eat much of my lunch today. I can’t concentrate if I’m hungry. Plus, a full Ally is a happy Ally.” I didn’t add how bitchy I got when I needed food.

  He sat down across from me, and scooted in his chair. Our knees touched, and I shivered. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

  He smirked at me. “Maybe later.”

  Barf. Apparently keeping the conversation moving at a clean, mature pace depended on me. One more remark like that, and I internally swore I was going to walk. “Should we start?”

  “I thought my job was to ask the questions.” He crossed his hands on the table. “I’ve always liked you, Ally. You’re smart, funny, and quick on your feet. The customers like you a lot as well. Tell me, what do like best about what you’re doing now?”

  “The customers.” The words flew out of my mouth because it was the truth. “There are the regulars, and I love I know them so much I can name their kids or their favorite hobbies. New clients that come in, or ones that don’t usually come to my window but end up there, are always wonderful, too. There are so many different types of people. I love getting to know them.”

  Daryl nodded his head. “Good.” He cleared his throat. “Now, your friend Chelsea is interested in this position as well. What puts you above her for this job?”

  So many things, I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him how she didn’t really want the job and only expressed interested because she was pregnant and needed the money. She never even thought about the promotion until last week and it wasn’t fair she try to take it from me. I’d excel at the job, and make customers feel comfortable and want to work with us for their financing, and my attention to detail was incredible. But I couldn’t. I didn’t want to sit here and compare myself to her. “Daryl, Chelsea is wonderful. She’s sweet, and kind, and, most importantly, she’ll work hard at any job you give her. Plus, she’s my best friend. I can’t walk all over her for you.”

  His eyes widened as well as his smile. “How noble of you. You must feel like such a great friend.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should take his remark as a compliment or not, but it sure seemed sarcastic. “Actually, I do. Chelsea is going through a lot right now. Dealing with what she’s dealing with can’t be easy.”

  “And what’s that?”

  He didn’t know yet, and more than likely I still was the sole person at work aware of her pregnancy. “Nothing that concerns you. It’s personal.”

  He moved his hands off the table. “Listen, if there’s something that may stop her from doing her job, I need to be aware. Her personal life can’t interfere with her ability to work.”

  “I didn’t say it would.”

  Daryl glanced around the restaurant and lowered his head as though about to tell me a deep, dark secret. “Here’s the deal. I want you to have this job. Of all my employees, you’re the most reliable and the most qualified. I need to be sure, though, you plan on sticking around and are in for the long haul.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “I sense you’re not entirely happy at the bank. If you think you may be seeking employment elsewhere, I don’t want to pass someone else over for the job who would be excellent at it as well.”

  This didn’t make sense to me. Why would he even think I wanted to leave? Sure, I expressed to Chelsea how I wanted more out of my career, but I always said at the bank. I wanted to stay working there, only at a higher-level position. Did Chelsea tell him otherwise? “Daryl, why do you think this? Did Chelsea feed you some lies about my intentions at the bank?”

  He leaned back in his chair and rested his hand on his belt buckle. “Chelsea didn’t feed me anything. Even if she did, what she and I discussed is not your business.”

  I shoved my plate aside. “It’s my business if she’s trying to sabotage me.” Of all the low, selfish, shitty things a friend could do, Chelsea sure won the medal. If I’d been able to hear better what they discussed the other day, perhaps I could have come in better prepared. That was my problem lately. Preparation. I wasn’t prepared for Josh to cheat on me, or interview for a new job, or fall for Seth. I certainly wasn’t prepared for my best friend to be a conniving jerk.

  “I’ll take this conversation as confirmation you intend to stay at the bank. I’ll be making my decision shortly, and will notify both you and Chelsea.”

  I stared at him, trying to get a read on him. How could I win him over, short of sexual favors? Because that, well, that wasn’t happening. No way in hell. Chelsea couldn’t handle the job. I was the right one for it, make no mistake about it.

  “That’ll be all, Miss Couper,” Daryl finally said, breaking me from my trance, and sending me on my way without as much as a blink of his eye.

  ----------

  What a shitty end to the day. My mind floated the entire way home, unable to process the simplest task. By the time I arrived, I couldn’t even remember how I got there. My mind bubbled in a fit of rage, bouncing back-and-forth between the anger and the humiliation. Never in my life did I think my best friend would sink as low as to sell me out. When Daryl asked me about leaving the bank, what was I supposed to say? Of course I wanted more in life than to come to that shit hole every day. One day, yes, I planned on leaving. Chelsea probably did, too! Not everyone wanted to spend their entire career in one position like Daryl. Damn, Chelsea and I had some things to talk about.

  I wanted to talk to Seth first, though. Not over the phone. I needed to gaze into his eyes, touch him, and allow myself to feel like somebody, not a disposable friend or employee. If anyone could fill me with happiness, it would be Seth. I sent him a text asking him to come over as soon as possible. Usually he responded right away to my texts, so after ten minutes, I made the decision to take a quick shower. That would pass some time, and he’d certainly respond by the time I finished.

  Nope.

  After everything that happened with Josh, my mind immediately began to wonder why Seth was non-responsive. Most nights he started getting ready for bed by nine so he could be up early to make breakfast for patrons of the bed and breakfast, and the clock showed that time quickly approaching. Screw it. For all I knew, he turned his phone off, or his battery died. Seth was my boyfriend, so if I wanted to see him I could just pop in, right? I grabbed my keys and headed over to the bed and breakfast.

  Seven minutes later, I stepped through the entryway with Kate at the counter. “Hi, Kate. My name is Ally. I’m not sure if you remember me.”

  She rolled her eyes and put her pen down. “Yeah, I know who you are. You introduce yourself every time I see you.”

  Did I? I placed my shaking hands on the desk. Why did Kate make me so nervous? “Is Seth here? Is he in his room?”

  “No, he's not,” she said as she turned her back to me and began shuffling through papers behind her.

  I paused for a moment before saying, “I saw his car outside.” That didn’t sound stalkerish at all.

  “You most
certainly did,” she said a little louder since she had her back turned to me. “She picked him up.”

  “She?” My voice cracked as I thought back to Josh’s phone and the text I had seen from his mistress. He never mentioned plans with anyone tonight. Even if he did have plans, what woman would he be out with? My mind clouded with images of him kissing another woman and as much as I didn’t want to be jealous, I couldn’t help it. Not after my past with Josh.

  This time she turned to me and her eyes shot like lasers through mine. “Yes, she. He’s with Alyssa.” Her eyes twinkled in defeat.

  “Alyssa?” My voice cracked.

  “His ex-wife.”

  My heart dropped to the floor, splitting into a million pieces as the saliva in my mouth dried, making it near impossible to swallow. “What?”

  She approached me at the counter and her hands almost touched mine as she leaned into me. Her dark eyes settled on mine. “His ex-wife, whom he was married to, that he has since divorced. That typically is what an ex-wife is.” She didn’t blink once.

  “Yes, I understand what an ex-wife is, I just … why would he be out with her?” Were they back together?

  She grabbed a stack of papers and shuffled them, and pounded them on the desk to clear out the pages trying to escape from the edge. “Today is a special day for them. They get together every year on this day.”

  “Why?” Every single year?

  “If he didn’t tell you, it’s not my place to. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some guests to attend to.”

  Kate turned on her foot and walked away, leaving me lonely and confused at the counter.

  I'd been screwed over. Again.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Dread filled me as I walked into work the next morning. Not only had I not heard from Seth, and spent the entire night tossing and turning thinking about him and his ex-wife, but now came time to face Daryl and Chelsea, and try to prove to Daryl he needed to promote me, not her. All while trying not to tear Chelsea’s head off. I made sure to make time for a forty minute session of yoga, followed by a large black coffee, before going to the office.

  When I arrived, I didn’t see Daryl immediately, which didn’t strike me as out of the ordinary. Somehow, though, I expected him to be standing at the counter, arms crossed as though he planned on reprimanding me. He hinted at dinner I may be the one hired, but after my rant about Chelsea backstabbing me, my chances may have slimmed down.

  An eerie silence hovered over the bank, my colleagues glancing at me as I walked in the door and quickly putting their attention back to their computers. I looked at the clock to confirm I arrived at my starting time. Ten minutes buffered between me and my official punch-in time, and even if I were remaining late, it didn’t concern them. As my boss, I only answered to Daryl, and he could cut me some slack if I did show up a little past when I was supposed to.

  I looked for Chelsea but didn’t see her anywhere. She, unlike me, made a habit of being late at least once a week, so it didn’t surprise me I didn't see her, but usually she texted me she planned on being late. That way, I made Daryl aware and hopefully saved her from some grief. I checked my phone, but no messages from her. Or Seth. Big shock.

  With only ten minutes, I still needed to put my lunch away, log into my computer, and make sure everything was situated how I wanted it at my counter. My lunch consisted of a measly yogurt and banana, but I had to get it into the refrigerator. As I walked past Daryl’s office, I peeked inside, stopped, my mouth dropping open. Chelsea sat at his desk with a paper in front of her, signing it. That only meant one thing.

  I grabbed the door handle and burst in, startling both Chelsea and Daryl. “Did Daryl give you the promotion?” I asked Chelsea in a rather demanding and irritated voice.

  “Excuse me, Ally, we’re in the middle of something.” Daryl straightened his stance, placing his hands on his hips.

  Chelsea remained seated, her bottom lip quivering. In all the years of our friendship, I won most of our arguments. I fought hard, sometimes loud, and she always backed down, let me get my words out, and rarely responded in a negative way. That was the thing about Chelsea - everyone walked all over her. She did anything anyone told her to do. “Ally…”

  “You did, didn’t you?” For two months I tried to prove myself to Daryl for the job, and took on extra responsibilities no one in the office would do. I slaved for that man when everyone else came in just wanting to do their job and be done with it. The problem with people today was no one wanted to work. Everyone wanted something for free. Not me. I worked my ass off, and when the opportunity for promotion presented itself, finally, I worked myself even harder, and my best friend hijacked the job! But that’s what working ethically got you - on the pathway to failure.

  “Ally, I know how much you wanted this promotion, but Daryl said I fit the job perfectly.”

  “You screwed him, didn’t you?” Only explanation possible. She wasn’t smart enough for the job, and Daryl said himself I was in line for it.

  Chelsea’s face fell, turning different shades of red before white. “How…why…”

  I laughed so loud my voice echoed. Bingo. I was right! “How could you be so stupid, Chels? Do you think he chose you because you’re right for the job? We both know I’m the one who is supposed to get it. Yes, you need the money more. I get that. But, first you bad mouth me to him, and then whore yourself out for the position? And while you’re pregnant?”

  “Whoa!” Daryl threw his hands in the air. “You’re pregnant?” Realizing the door still hovered wide open, Daryl hopped over to shut it. “You’re pregnant, Chelsea? How far along are you?”

  She shrugged. “Almost three months.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair, ran his hands down his face, and kept his hand on his mouth as he opened it wide. “I can’t believe this. Why would you … how could you … while you’re pregnant? I wasn’t aware you were even seeing anyone.”

  My naive, pregnant best friend slept with our boss to win a promotion over me. I thought back to the conversation with my mom, and how she had been right. Chelsea wanted and needed to win. Nothing stood in her way to come out on top. She didn't win arguments with words - she fought dirty and won with her actions. “I can’t believe you did this.”

  The tears welled up in her eyes. As they began to fall, she shook her head and dropped her head in her hands. “I’m sorry. I need the money, Ally. I can’t raise this baby on my own on what I make. And I didn’t sleep with him. I just -”

  I put my hands in the air. “Stop. I don’t want to hear what you did or didn’t do.” I stared at her, my heart breaking as I realized she felt sleeping with Daryl was the only way to get the promotion and do something good for her baby. Had I not been so bull headed, and told her to take the job from the beginning, maybe Daryl wouldn’t have harassed her and made her sleep with him. Who was I kidding? He probably would have done it anyway because he was scum. That’s what scum did. Still, Chelsea didn’t deserve this. “I’m sorry, Chelsea, for everything.”

  Daryl stood there, finally sitting back down as he tried to process the information of what unfolded in front of him. “Me, too, Chelsea.”

  “Yeah, right.” I couldn’t hold back. “You’re not sorry for a damn thing, Daryl. You told her the only way to get the promotion was by sleeping with you. Even if you knew she was pregnant, you probably would have made her do something else. You’re a piece of shit, Daryl, and you know it.” My body shook and my heart pounded as I approached his desk. “You should be fired for what you did to her.”

  Daryl stood at his desk, his arms folded. “I didn’t make Chelsea do anything she didn’t want to do. Did I, Chelsea?”

  She tightened her eyes, looking at me, seeking the words. “I … he didn’t come onto me, Ally. I came onto him.”

  “No. You didn’t. Daryl’s a shit bag. You can sue him, and you should.” I pointed my finger at him. “You tried to turn me against Chelsea, when in reality, you wanted me to suck you
off, too.”

  “Stop it, Ally!” Chelsea jumped up from the chair. “Just stop it! I didn’t do a thing I didn’t want to do. I thought it would help me, sure, but Daryl didn’t force me into anything. I took advantage of him. You may not think it’s possible for me to have my own thoughts in my head and to make my own decisions, but I do. I’m sick and tired of you thinking you can run my life and like you live this perfect life, too. Get over yourself, Ally.”

  I didn’t know how long my mouth hung open, or how many minutes I stood there, staring at Chelsea, debating between being upset with her, or loving she finally stood up for her.

  “Chelsea,” Daryl said, “I’m sorry you thought you had to do that. I, well, I like you. That’s it.” She lowered down to her chair, obviously clueless to his feelings. “Forget what happened. The job is still yours if you want it.” He then turned to me. “I don’t appreciate being wrongfully accused of sexual harassment, Miss Couper. You can leave. You’re fired.”

  I had that one coming.

  ----------

  As if the week couldn't get any worse, now I went from a possible promotion to no job at all. How in the hell could this happen? I prided myself on having my crap together. How would I pay rent, buy food, and what would I tell my mom? I refused to move back in with her, if she would even have me. How long would it take me to find a new job? The whole thing was ironic. So much of my time I spent being afraid to find something different, gathering the courage to search for a new job. Now, I didn't have a choice.