Page 41 of I Saw You First

“Go easy on her, Wil,” Felix says. “We don’t want you scaring her off so she takes her talents to Best Buy.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Wil grumbles. “I’ll walk you up.”

I follow them as far as the media desk, where I sign on to the email system. I huff out a laugh when I see that Kelsey has replied to my email from last week. She spelled my name incorrectly, but I’ll have a new display hand-delivered by close of business.

A fancy leather notebook with an embossed Hometown logo sits on the desk next to the monitor. I hurry to the Dugout to see if I can catch Felix but stop short. Wil and Felix and Mr. Wilshire stand in front of the Performance Center. Wil’s dad looks like he’s about to rupture a blood vessel. He gestures wildly and then points at Wil, his finger poking him in the chest repeatedly.

What the hell?

Felix takes a step back, but Wil stands there with his arms crossed and takes it. He doesn’t respond or interrupt. He lets his father unleash and, when he finally wraps up his temper tantrum, Wil nods, turns, and disappears into the computer department.

Wow. That was… unreal. Unprofessional. My parents would never berate me like that in public, or even privately. My chest feels tight and I consider following Wil to see if he’s okay.

Which he would hate, of course. But then I remember I’ve got you, I’m always here. I could be there for him, too.

First, I’ve got to get rid of this notebook. Felix and Mr. Wilshire walk toward the front doors. I pivot and cut up to the loss prevention desk through the software section.

“Can you give this to Felix?” I ask Donnie. I sprint away before he can respond and head for the computers department. He’s not there, or in home theater, or audio, or appliance. I blow into the warehouse and let the door slam into the rack. He’s nowhere.

Poor Wil.

But! Ninety-four, I think, mentally patting myself on the back. Not bad.

I like working here, and I’m good at this job, even if it was supposed to be a stopgap while I found a real job—not that any of the dozens of resumes I’ve sent out have produced results. And I deserved my promotion.

But Brianna left me a note this morning that the electricity bill is due in three days. I’ll have to write a check and hope they don’t cash it until after payday. My car is a thousand miles overdue for an oil change. And Diet RC just isn’t as good as Diet Coke.

I go back to the media department to earn my meager paycheck. Something’s got to give.

Not long after, while I’m unboxing a shipment of Disney movies and loading them onto a cart in the warehouse, Donnie pages me for a phone call. Sam’s at lunch and Eric’s doing a carry-out, so I use the warehouse phone.

“Thanks for holding. This is Abbey.”

“Abbey!” It’s Brianna, and she sounds out of breath. “I know I shouldn’t call you at work, but I just checked the answering machine and there’s a message for you from someone at a radio station. She wants to set up an interview ASAP!”

A grin spreads across my face. Finally! “Really? They called?”

“Her name’s Susan. Here’s the number.”

I scribble the number on a Post-it note and hang up as Sam comes back from lunch. I scrunch the note into a ball in my fist, stand up, and face him with a grin.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“What do you mean?” I laugh, awkward and stilted. “Why would something be wrong?”

The intercom buzzes. “Sam to the Dugout.” It’s Jeremy. “Sammo to the Dugout.”

Jeremy to the rescue.

“What the hell?” Sam asks. “I’ve got shit to do, and he knows it.”

“Ha ha, don’t we all?”

Sam walks toward the door but turns back, brow wrinkled. “What is going on with you? You’re extra weird today.” He doesn’t wait for an answer.

I dial the number. Susan picks up after two rings.

“So glad you got back to me so promptly,” she says. “We’re conducting interviews later this week. Are you available Wednesday morning at ten?”