Page 22 of I Saw You First

“Would there be much travel involved?”

“Only in the event of a real mess, you know? Austin travels a lot, but most of my work could be done over the phone. Even occasional travel is definitely one of the cons, especially if Kelsey starts traveling more.”

“How’s the pay?”

He snorts. “It’s a nonprofit. It would be a pay cut, but it could be worse. Kels is up for another promotion.”

Of course she is. My sister takes no prisoners. I’m kind of proud of her, even if I’m still swimming in the murky waters of the merch rotation. At least with Abbey hired, I no longer feel like I’m about to get swallowed by the undercurrent.

“What about you?” Andre asks.

“What about me?”

“When are you going over to the League? Austin said they’re building a community relations role into next year’s budget.”

I’m lifting the bottle to take another drink but freeze at his words. I can’t imagine why he would ask me this. Everyone knows I’m busting my ass to finish rotation and get my own store—the flagship. That’s been my goal since I graduated from college. Probably before.

“What makes you think I want to work at the League?” I finally ask.

“Look, Jaws,” Andre starts, then sighs. He’s the only member of my family who calls me that, because he was with Sam and me back in our earliest warehouse days. “I know you’ve got your heart set on running Woodlake, but I gotta ask, does it make you happy?”

“Does it make me happy?” I echo. “Is it supposed to? What’s gotten into you? Has fatherhood turned you soft already?”

“Look, I get it, man. This is what you think you were born to do, like Kap and Kels. She wants to run this company more than anything, and you think you want to run the flagship store.”

“I more than think so. I know it. I’ve known it for a long time.”

“Mmhmm,” he murmurs and downs the last of his beer. “Every time I’m at the store, you seem miserable, you know? Like you’re going through the motions, and the motions are bringing you down. But I’ve also seen you with those kids in the League, dude. They fucking love you. They revere you. And I’ve seen how happy you are out on the ball field and at the bowling events and shit. Maybe you could focus your career on something that makes you happy instead of gives you the anxiety shits before every eval.”

“I don’t get anxiety shits, Andre.” Most days, though, I am miserable, but it’ll all be worth it when I have my own store.

“Whatever. I’m not gonna tell you what to do.” He stands. “Time to split. We gotta pick up the crib before Babies ‘R’ Us closes. Special order, because of course she couldn’t have something as basic as what they have on the sales floor.”

“Good luck getting past Chanelle,” I say.

Andre goes back inside to find Kelsey, but I stay and look out over the manicured lawn to the parkway and the walkers on the path. A couple on a bench between two oak trees. The muted sky at dusk. The lake, still scummy with algae blooms. I think about what Andre said about happiness. They don’t teach you in business classes that you should find a job that makes you happy. They teach you about analytics, finance, marketing, HR. Profit and loss, margins, audits, evals—that’s what matters.

I can get through this miserable part, and then, when I’m the GM of Woodlake, then I’ll be happy.

SEVEN

“RADIATION VIBE” BY FOUNTAINS OF WAYNE, 1996

ABBEY

The first night I close with Cesar, the assistant team captain, he invites me to La Cuchara. He and Aurora have been friends since they both worked part-time at the dinky Hometown location in Dinkytown, a neighborhood at the University of Minnesota. They couldn’t be more different. Aurora’s small, quiet, aloof; Cesar is loud, forthright, and decisive.

He knows everything about everyone at Hometown, he tells me as we slide into a booth, and over the course of the evening, he makes a point to find out as much as he can about me, too. He asks question after question about TC Weekly and the time I got to interview Lenora León, Minnesota’s Martha Stewart, whose local cooking and shabby chic décor show got picked up by a national home and garden cable channel.

“I love that show!” he cries. “Was Lenora a total bitch?”

“Not even close,” I say. “She was exceedingly nice.”

“Exceptional taste and she’s not a bitch!” he says cheerfully. “She’s impossible to hate.” He dips a chip into a bowl of queso. “So, tell me, Abbey Rhodes, is there a magnificent other in your life?”

I snort at his play on significant other and take another gulp of my second marg. I’m not sure that I should tell him about Wil at the HollowPoint show but what the hell? The tequila has loosened my tongue.

“Funny story,” I say. “I met Wil at The Golden before I even applied. Sam was there, too, and he called him Jaws, but I didn’t get his real name. And, total coincidence, I walked into the store the next day to buy the new Mellencamp and there he was.”