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I pull out my phone and open our work app to pull up the message box. I quickly click on Andreas’ name and type out a message:
ALANA MEYER:
Good evening, Mr. Rivera, I’m reaching out because something weird happened here at work, and I’d like to talk to you about it. I know that messaging through the app isn’t your first choice, so I just wanted to see when you’d be in next.
Thanks, sir.
There. That was completely professional and innocent. Now how am I going to ask him if he sent the flowers and left the message for me without sounding like a complete psychopath? He’s going to think I’m making shit up or hallucinating because I want to fuck him. I don’t evenlikehim, but I know his type. He believes his good looks make people fall all over themselves, desperate for their approval. Ugh, this is going to be uncomfortable.
I forget about the entire ordeal as I throw myself back into serving. I go out of my way to have a lot of conversations with the five tables I still have. Anything to distract me from the thought of having another meeting with Andreas. Mr. Never Talks To Me and Shane are both here, which means one table won’t shut up, and the other table sits silently and stares at his laptop. Shane is in rare form today, and I swear he keeps leaning into me like a male cat in heat, attempting to rub his paunchy stomach against me when I stop to deliver his beers.
My Apple Watch vibrates, alerting me to a message, so I go to the back of the store to check my phone. My work app shows a notification, and my stomach drops knowing it’s probably from Andreas.
ANDREAS RIVERA:
Good evening, Alana.
I don’t plan on being in for at least a week, as I’m working at another location. I could make a phone call sometime tomorrow if that would work for you. Let me know if you can wait a week or would rather speak urgently.
Best,
Andreas Rivera
Is this an urgent matter? No. I send another message:
ALANA MEYER:
It’s okay. I can wait another week. Thanks for getting back to me so quickly.
I walk around and cash out the last few tables I have. I need to begin my closing duties, but I should get them taken care of first or I’ll forget them. My ADHD keeps me from checking on tables when I get distracted with side work, and the last thing I need is a complaint getting back to Andreas. Or maybe I should want that, since I already know what my punishment would be.
With all of my side work and cleaning done, I leave the bar and walk out the door to my car. It’s dark, and I hate leaving alone this late. My eyes shift around the parking lot to make sure there aren’t any murder vans waiting to snatch me up, but it’s empty. I make it to Greta’s side, and I’m surprised to see a piece of paper stuck underneath my driver’s side windshield wiper.
I reach down and grab it, thinking it’s probably a flier for a free car wash. It’s a note addressed to me:
Alana,
There’s nobody quite like you. I’m excited about introducing myself. Always thinking about you.
<3
I look around the parking lot again, but there’s no sign of life. Whoever left the note is long gone. Is this the same person who called the store and left a message for me, or have I somehow collected multiple secret admirers? Goosebumps blossom across my body as I get behind the steering wheel and lock the doors. I’ll just add it to the list of weird shit, I guess.
16
Chapter Sixteen
Andreas
I’ve been avoiding Alana like the plague. She hasn’t hired a lawyer to press charges against me or sue the company, so I’ve realized the only thing that will keep my hands off her is miles between us. For the past two weeks, I’ve thrown myself into work.
Friday night, I’m sitting at my desk and forcing myself to go through paperwork HR sent me to sign off on. Ironically, the papers currently sitting in front of me are information for a seminar on sexual harassment. My HR person, Robyn, suggested we have all managers participate in it.
I type an email to her and tell her that’s a great idea, then finish my work and push away from my desk. If I don’t get out of this house and blow off steam, I’m going to go fucking crazy.
I grab my phone and call Chris and thank God he answers on the third ring.
“Hey, buddy. What’s up?”
