Page 18 of I Saw You First

The server sets my beer on a paper coaster. I drag my finger on the drops of condensation. “I’ve already memorized my employee number and filled out about fifty employment forms,” I say, “so I have technically started. Also? ‘Fraternize’ is a patriarchal and demeaning term.”

“A feminist,” John says with more than a hint of scorn. “What term would you prefer?”

“How about socializing? Getting to know my teammates.” I’m careful to use that term instead of coworker, as instructed at Team Training. “Does Hometown have some archaic fraternization policy? And isn’t that exactly what you’re all doing?”

Sam laughs and gives Wil a pointed look, eyebrows raised and head tilted. “Doesn’t look like this woman is going to take anybody’s crap. See you bright and early, Abbey. Jaws, you coming?”

“On second thought,” Wil says as he slides back onto his stool, “I’ll stay.”

“Is that right?” Sam grins and follows Eric out of the bar.

“Not sure I should leave this one alone among the wolves,” Wil grumbles to himself.

“I’ll socialize with you anytime, even if you are a feminist,” John says, leaning in. Then his eyes widen. “Unless you’re a dyke. Aren’t most feminist dykes?”

“You can’t be serious,” I say. “You shouldn’t say things like that!”

“John,” Wil says with warning in his tone.

“I’m gonna take a leak,” John says, and the next thing I know, Wil and I are alone.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “That was inappropriate.”

“You shouldn’t apologize on his behalf, though.” My voice shakes. Why am I suddenly a magnet for this kind of behavior? Or have I always been surrounded by sleazebags and I’m just now noticing? I swallow hard and pull myself together, waving my hand toward the techs. “Those guys don’t seem very wolfish.”

“Don’t fall for the stereotype,” he says. “They are strategic, master manipulators. Take Ian, for example. Looks perfectly harmless but he’d have you bound and gagged in the back of a windowless van on your way to a remote cabin in northern Minnesota with no electricity or running water before you could say Lake of the Woods.”

“That’s very specific.” I reach across the table for a handful of the famous Ground Round popcorn in its little cardboard boat. “And disturbing. Why is he kidnapping me and taking me to a remote location off the grid, anyway? Wait. Don’t answer that.”

He shrugs and slides the popcorn closer to me.

“And no way would that guy make it without electricity,” I continue. “He lives in Uptown! And he’s a gamer!”

“That’s what you’re taking away from this conversation?”

“I can handle that wolf pack. And besides—” I look up, straight into his eyes, darker blue in this dim light. Oh, yes. This is a topic I’d like to explore further: Wil’s eyes. “Ian’s not my type.”

“What is your type, then?” He lifts his bottle to his lips.

“Not a Muppet,” I mutter, and am rewarded with Wil choking on the sip he’s taken.

When John returns, even though I’m still leery of him, I ask a seemingly innocuous question (“How long have you worked at Hometown?”), which results in a long, detailed description of his “real” job at a security company and how he has recently started working concert venues and met Prince (lucky!) and a long list of names I don’t recognize. He’s only working at Hometown to help out his buddy Donnie, the loss prevention team captain. If he weren’t giving off such pompous and predatory vibes, I’d love to hear his stories about Prince.

“Have you ever met Hulk Hogan?” I ask with an innocent tone, and Wil chokes back another laugh.

“Hulk Hogan?” John repeats. “Why would I have met Hulk Hogan?”

“My mistake. Do you ever work at The Golden?” I ask. I can’t help but glance at Wil, who’s staring at his bottle. “I go there a lot. Have you seen HollowPoint?”

John scoffs. “HollowPoint is not my style.”

“They do an awesome cover of ‘I Would Die 4 U,’” I offer.

“I’m sure,” he says, then flags down the server for his check. Touchy subject, I guess.

“What’s your story, then, Wil?” I turn my attention to my new boss. “How did you end up at Hometown Electronics?”

John barks out a laugh. “Good one.” I don’t understand why he thinks that’s funny.