Page 26 of Saints & Sailors

Scott placed his hand on my shoulder once more. “This is my Saylor.”

His Saylor?

I was nice enough not to scowl at that remark. He hadn’t raised me a day in his life or acknowledged me until now, and yet he felt comfortable introducing me as “his Saylor”?

No, I did not have daddy issues, but it was about the facts, and the facts were simple: Scott and I were strangers.

“Saylor,” Scott went on. “This is Cas, she runs the floral department. She’s the reason this place looks as good as it does.”

“Oh stop.” Cas placed her hand on Scott’s chest and pretended to shove him. “It’s so nice to meet you, Saylor. Scott’s been talking about you all day.”

Just a day. That was all he could speak about when it came to me. A whole day’s worth of info. Not a lifetime like normal parents.

Like with Anders, I gave Cas a smile. “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“Oh, I better get home and let you guys go. I gotta water my petunias.” Cas said goodbye to Scott and me before wheeling her cart out of the store with more determination in her step.

Scott took off once more without a second thought.

I wondered…

Scott cut through a cereal aisle before taking me into the domain where only employees could cross. Lockers lined the wall as soon as we pushed through the door, and a couple of employees, one clad in what seemed to be Marty’s colors, a blue polo lined in yellow, and the other in a white coat that was covered in blood, were both busy shoving things into their lockers.

Scott greeted the man and woman before rounding the corner and going past the restrooms and leading me straight to his office.

There, a short, older man was talking on the phone at Scott’s desk.

His office was small, housing a desk, two seats in front of it, a file cabinet behind it, and a couple of bookcases filled with thick binders and bins behind the two chairs in the room. A calendar hung up on the wall marked with job-related itinerary. A Marty’s baseball cap sat on top of one of the bookcases. It was blue, outlined in yellow with the store logo on it.

Scott was quick to grab some clipboard and sign it before making a few hand gestures with the man on the phone. His phone call ended and he commenced to talking to Scott about whatever it was that he’d just signed.

I studied his office more, finding photos on the wall from charity events the store had thrown. Scott was in every single photo, smiling on the end, while couples were embraced in each other’s arms, or side by side.

Scott was a nice-looking guy. I wondered if Cameron were right about him, if he were nursing some wound or whatever.

“Just a few more minutes, Saylor Moon.”

The man had left the office and Scott was now behind his computer typing something up.

“It’s just Saylor,” I corrected him.

Scott’s smile was anything but apologetic. Seriously, he would have to get this through his head. We were not about to adopt pet names.

I went and sat on top of his desk. “So this is what you do?”

Scott shrugged. “Hey, it’s an honest living. Could be worse.”

“Could be better,” I mumbled. This was Scott’s world, kinda sad, kinda basic, kinda meh.

“It’s not quite Hollywood, but it gets me by.”

Some other boy, an older looking one, probably fresh out of high school courtesy of Horton High, stepped into the office clad in a blue Marty’s polo as well.

“Hey, did you want me to do the end-caps from aisles one through nine, or one through seven?” he asked Scott.

Scott gathered another clipboard and read over his notes. “I have you doing one through seven, and Kyle’s taking over eight through fifteen.”

They spoke some more, joking a little, and I could really see that Scott was in his element here. Even if he were off, he didn’t seem to mind coming in to do more work. It was clear he loved his job. He was used to the demands and the duties it laid out for him.