That’d show the arrogant little fuck.
Picturing the look on Chase’s face when he was forced to eat his words along with the pastries put a spring back into my step as I worked.
The timer on the brownies beeped just as I finished cleaning my work area and stacking the dirty equipment into the industrial dishwasher that took up a corner of the workshop. I grabbed the oven mitts and pulled the trays out one after the other. My shoulders ached by the time I slid the last tray onto the counter to cool. Baking involved a lot more heavy lifting than people realized. Who needed the gym when I was lifting and carrying fifty-pound bags of flour and hefting giant bowls of dough all day?
I filled in the clipboard listing what still needed to be done and handed it off to Gloria, my coworker, then headed out. I stopped on the way past the office and stuck my head in the door where Henry, the manager, was sitting behind his messy desk doing something on his laptop.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m done. See you in a week.”
Henry’s head snapped up. “What?”
“I have the week off,” I repeated. “It’s on the calendar.” I gestured toward the planner that was hanging on the wall. Henry was a world champ at forgetting things, which was why he had the wall planner in the first place.
He spun around in his chair and put on his glasses, then ran a hand down his face. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I’ll see you in a week.”
I headed out to my truck. It was a little after one, so not as late as I’d feared, and I was ready to get home and nap. I liked living at home and I loved my mom and my sister, but my mom had never met a door she couldn’t slam, so the few hours after I finished work when she wasn’t home were my nap-shaped oasis.
When I pulled into Goose Run Gas, it was surprisingly busy. It looked a lot different in the daylight. Even slightly less depressing, maybe? It was still run-down and a little shabby around the edges, but even having a few cars by the gas pumps made me remember it was an actual business with actual customers and not an abandoned set from an episode ofThe Twilight Zone. The difference inside was even more pronounced. The woman behind the coffee counter was smiling, for a start. And it looked like she was making actual espresso, not whatever it was that Chase made.
I stepped up to the counter and said, “Hi, uh, is Chase here?”
She gave me a slightly suspicious look, as though she thought I might be a stalker or a sworn blood enemy of Chase’s or something. Which, to be fair, he probably had a few of the second sort because of his sparkling personality. “No, he’s finished his shift.”
Shit, of course. The wave of disappointment that hit me was a surprise. Suddenly, I didn't feel like a guy with a smart plan. I felt like an idiot.
“What can I get you?” she asked me, nodding at the coffee machine.
Which was right when my phone started ringing.
“Sorry,” I said, stepping out of the line to let the next person order.
There was aline. For espresso at Goose Run Gas. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I never would have believed it. Clearly, the woman on the day shift knew how to work the machine.
I looked at the screen and answered the call. “What’s up, Henry?”
“Heeeey,” he said in a fake-friendly tone that didn’t bode well. “So, about your leave…”
I liked the sound of that even less. “The leave I’m currently on?”
I could almost hear the grimace when he said, “Yeah, about that. I’m gonna have to can it. Turns out I’m supposed to be taking my wife away for our anniversary. I’m sure you understand. Happy wife, happy life, am I right?” He laughed, like that would somehow make what he was saying any more palatable.
It abso-fucking-lutely did not. My grip tightened around my phone and I said, “No.”
That put an end to his laugh. “Excuse me?”
“No,” I repeated. “I’ve had this request in formonths, and you know that. And you know why—” I stopped and drew in a deep breath, willing myself not to sound shaky. Because when I’d put in for my leave, we still hadn’t known if we’d be celebrating Sam’s recovery, or still be in the middle of her fight against lymphoma, or something worse. “I put in for the leave, and you approved it, and I’m taking it.”
“Lee, come on. We’re practically family here, and sometimes that means going the extra mile.”
And him pulling that line while denying me time off with my actual family? Fuck him. Fuck him sideways with a cactus. And not just any cactus. One of those big barrel ones.
“Great,” I said. “Then youcan go the extra mile this time,fam.”
For a moment he was silent, and then he said, “Lee?—”
“No,” I said again. “I have worked my ass off while Tyler’s been sick, but I didn’t see you coming in early or staying late to help, so you can fuck right off with your family bullshit.” I was angry-whispering into the phone. I was pissed off but very aware that there were other people around me. “I’m taking the week off, Henry.”
