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We had a company cell phone now instead of a store landline. It was faster and easier to transport if we needed it, and most of the time my dad or grandfather would take it home to answer any after-hour calls that came through.
Technically, The Marina was open twenty-four hours a day. The thing was, we really weren’t.
That was, technically, why I lived above The Marina, and why my brother did, too. We were after-hours workers. There in case of emergencies, or if someone really, really needed help at some point in the night and someone thought it was necessary to wake us up.
It was rare that we had to answer any of those calls, but when they did come in, Silvy was the one who took the shift if it was needed.
Silvy was a mama bear when it came to me and only allowed me to take those calls if he wasn’t at home due to him working a shift.
“You look like you have a hangover,” Coran supplied. “Did you go out drinking last night?”
“No,” I grumbled. “Do you mind?”
I wiggled my lunch at him, followed by my paperback.
“If it’s all right with you,” he said, “I’m going to take off for lunch, too.”
No, it wasn’t all right with me. In fact, it was quite inconvenient. But him not being here when I was still trying to scrounge up the energy to be here… well, maybe that was a good thing.
“You can just take the rest of the day off. It’s looking like it’s pretty slow.”
“But…” he started.
I was already shaking my head. “Go on. Spend some time with your friends before school starts.”
He seemed to take the hint and left, leaving me alone to bask in the last dregs of heat our summer could produce before the coolness of fall took over.
I flipped the page and took a bite of my food, very aware of how closely Coran watched me as he walked away.
I didn’t like it. Not one bit.
I’d purposefully moved to the very side of the building as far away from the pumps as I could get. Yet he’d still found me.
He needed to take a hint.
And now, I was staring at the words on the page and couldn’t comprehend a single one of them.
Sighing, I laid my book down and picked up my phone, keeping one eye on Coran as he all but stalked away and the other on my phone. Then I texted my grandfather.
Since he’d been home taking care of my grandmother, he’d been fit to be tied.
He didn’t like when she was hurt. And he didn’t like even more sitting at home being idle.
Both were a very bad combination.
Me: You okay, Grandpa?
Grandpa: Why wouldn’t I be?
Me: Because your wife is hurt?
Grandpa: I’m fine. How is my business?
My grandpa.
Me: I thought you’d be worried about how Grandma is going down on you.
Down meaning her health, and how she couldn’t wait on him hand and foot like she usually did. She was definitely of the housewife generation that took care of their man.
Grandpa: going down has never been one of your grandma’s problems.
I winced. My grandpa. The sick fuck.
Me: all right. Well that’s enough texting for now. Talk to you later.
I put my phone down and took another bite.
God, it was good. So sweet and tasty.
I moaned around my spoon.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap.
I looked up to find Cassius on the side of his boat, straddling the stern. One foot on the dock, one foot on the hull of the boat.
He was staring at me with intense, angry eyes.
And I was eating cherry cheesecake.
I had one fuckin’ hour for lunch. In that hour, if nobody came to cover me, I shut the damn store down. There was only so much I could take, and that wasn’t my damn problem if he needed gas during the one time today that I’d gotten a break in seven freakin’ hours.
I’m pretty sure I did permanent damage to my damn bladder, too.
A person wasn’t meant to hold their pee for that long, I was sure.
But the tapping continued until it pulled me out of the bliss of cherry cheesecake.
“What?” I asked.
It wasn’t snappy. It wasn’t pissed-off sounding. It was quiet and controlled.
His eyes narrowed. “Oh, nothing. Just waiting for you to get off your lunch break and help me out. Since, you know, I can’t pump it myself.”
I took another bite of cheesecake and contemplated his words.
I’d yelled at him when he’d tried to help yesterday.
I hadn’t meant to, but I was overwhelmed.
“The hours are seven to one and two to five when I’m here working by myself. Which it explicitly says on the door now. I have one measly lunch break that happens to be right freakin’ now. I’m sorry if there are people waiting, but I’m taking it.” Goddammit. “This is my first break in seven hours. I’m pretty sure I now have a UTI because I’ve had to hold my damn urine inside myself for way too long. This is the one and only thing I’ve eaten all day because nobody’s relieved me for lunch.”
