Page 42 of I Saw You First

“Yes, absolutely.” I’m absolutely not. I’m scheduled to open. I’ll have to ask Aurora or Cesar to switch shifts with me.

“Wonderful,” she says. “I’ll send an email with the address and parking information. Let me verify that it’s AbbeyRhodesStudio at AOL dot com? Clever.”

This is the solution to all my problems. I’ll nail that interview, give my two-week notice, schedule an oil change, and get to work in a cool old building downtown for a cool radio station and meet cool musicians. I’ll make more money and beef up my 401(k). I’ll go to concerts again. Surely I won’t have to deal with skeazy, handsy nephews and CEO’s sons. I’ll leave Hometown and start fresh and truly forget about everything that’s happened in the last couple of months.

Except… 94. And I like it here. Maybe there’s a way that I can work my way up and make more money. The fast track.

I shake my head. What a ridiculous idea.

I finish unboxing the movies and wheel the cart out to the floor to shelve them before my shift ends. Not long after, while I’m worrying about what I’m going to wear to my interview, I hear, “Hey,” behind me in that soft, unassuming way of Wil’s, and jump.

My face heats. He’s standing so close that I can smell his delicious cologne. In my mind, I’ve already gotten the job at the radio station, and I’m hit with a wave of guilt for even thinking about leaving. And then a rush of what if—what could happen when Wil’s not my boss. I don’t look at him, don’t look away from the stack of movies.

I’m turned upside down.

“Hey,” I reply, trying to be cool, casual, unaffected by his nearness.

“You want to get a drink at La Cuchara?”

Now I look up. “Are you asking me?”

He looks around. “I don’t see anyone else here.”

“Wh-why?” I stammer.

He raises an eyebrow. “I could really use a drink after today, and I thought maybe you could, too. To celebrate earning a ninety-four on the media eval. Believe me, that’s worth celebrating.”

A drink. With Wil. At La Cuchara. With Wil. Alone with Wil.

I have to say no.

“Yes. I’m done at five.”

He nods and looks at his watch. “See you at the bar in fifteen.”

“Fine,” I say, “but I’m paying my own bill.”

“Even if this is a way for me to thank you for your hard work?”

“If you can’t accept my terms, you can go drink at La Cuchara by yourself.”

“Okay,” he says.

I’m surprised at how quickly he agrees, and something in my chest flutters.

I make it to the time clock at exactly 4:53, the earliest I can clock out. Wil’s waiting for me at La Cuchara, and I can’t help but wonder if this means more than he’s letting on.

And what I’ll do if it does.

THIRTEEN

“LONG DAY” BY MATCHBOX TWENTY, 1996

WIL

I take a seat at the bar and watch ESPN coverage of the MLB playoffs. Goddamn, what a day. I shouldn’t be surprised that Dad found a reason to chew me out—in front of Felix and the entire customer service staff, not to mention fans—but he did, even after a successful media eval. I’m never going to make him happy. At this point, maybe I should cut my losses and defect to Best Buy. I’d probably make more money and get stock options to boot. Dad would love that.

I didn’t invite anyone else from the store, although there’s always a chance that someone might randomly show up. And if other people are around, me hanging out with one of my employees looks less like me hanging out with just one of my employees. Fraternizing. Socializing. But if I’m being honest, I want Abbey all to myself.