Bankers' Hours (4 page)

My legs nearly gave out, and I steadied myself. I swallowed hard and grabbed a few deposit slips to fan my face. Jessica turned to look at me and asked, “What’s wrong with you?”

“Oh, nothing,” I said, setting the deposit slips down and flipping the three pens back over. If I was supposed to act businesslike at work, then the customers needed to stop turning me on with a glance.

I HAD
an hour for lunch, so I sat in the break room and removed my peanut butter and jelly sandwich from my paper bag. It seemed like a lunch for ten-year-olds, but I didn’t exactly make a load of money, and I preferred spending it on redecorating my new place and then maybe on clothes. I could handle cheap lunches.

Mel and I used to eat lunch together, so sometimes we’d go out, but since I’d been eating alone this past week, my pathetic sandwich choices would have to suffice. Maybe I could splurge once a week and eat at a local restaurant, if I could find someone to go with me. I didn’t want to be one of those sad guys who dined alone.

My phone buzzed.
How are you, dear?

I had done well over the weekend. I’d only texted my mother twice.
Fine,
I replied.
Working here has been seamless so far. It’s the same computer system and setup, so I’ve been happy with it. And I like Westminster, btw. :)

Good. Have you made any new friends?

Sort of. I’m working up to personal information with a girl named Jessica. She thinks I’m cute, knows I’m gay, and told me to stop flirting with the customers.

Flirting? That doesn’t sound like you. Unless you’ve learned to loosen up since I last saw you.

Mother! How many times do I have to tell you I’m not uptight?

Oh, really?

I huffed. No one was in the break room to
sympathize with me
.
Seconds ticked. Was I really uptight? I texted back:
Fine. You win. I’m uptight and repressed.

Just remember you were the one to use the word repressed—not me.

I made a face, fake-laughed, and stuck out my tongue at my phone as if I was making fun of her behind her back. It irked me how well she knew me.
I’ll admit I blushed, but I swear it was only because of this one guy that came in.
I probably shouldn’t have mentioned him, but I never had learned how to keep my mouth shut when talking to my mother. It was just her and me, so I guess normal filters had gotten overlooked.

Oh? What guy?

An auto mechanic who owns his own shop. He is very… nice looking.
I downplayed my assessment. I thought he was fucking hot, but I didn’t feel the need to say it like that to her. I suppose I did filter things with my mom… sometimes.

Hmm. A business owner sounds promising. Only, be careful not to make the same mistake as last time. Remember what happened with that flower shop owner. Best to find out if he’s married first.

She had to remind me!
I will. Next time I’ll check for a wedding ring. TTYL.

I ended the conversation before she brought up all the gory details. The shop owner, Raymond, was probably the closest I’d gotten to an actual boyfriend, even though we’d never kissed and one date had been enough. We’d flirted at the bank for several weeks, and when he finally asked me out, I’d jumped at the chance. But then, while on our date, his wife showed up and made a scene. On top of the obvious reasons she’d caused a scene, she hadn’t known he was gay. I’d felt extremely small, sitting at the candlelit table while they yelled at one another.

You’d think I would have been the one to end it, but he beat me to the punch, saying, “I just don’t think I’m ready for a relationship yet.” Understatement of the year! At least with Raymond, the reason had been legitimate given the display over dinner. That had been eight months ago.

Westminster, though, was a clean slate. I could start over. People in this town didn’t know me. I could be as outgoing and congenial as I wanted. I could like sports or skydiving. I could flirt and ask a guy out and have wild sex in the parking lot. I could be or do anything!

My mother texted again:
Be careful.

My high hopes came crashing to the ground. I wasn’t all those things I thought I could be. I was Grant Adams, magnet for sob stories and losers.

My special guy was out there—he had to be. I believed there was someone perfect for everyone. Sometimes people went their entire lives never finding their soul mate, but I was not losing hope I’d find mine. My Prince Charming was out there!

Maybe he’d like fixing cars and have dark blue eyes.

I shivered. It was too idealistic to be real. My fantasies always promoted heartache. If I never indulged myself, I wouldn’t be so let down.

I cleaned up from lunch and headed back out to my window.

THE REST
of the day went rather slow, so the manager, Tracy, showed me how to search customer accounts for fraudulent activity. I’d done it before, yet she insisted she show me her way. I found it interesting how certain types of transactions could be indicators of money laundering and other illegal activities, as well as fraud, so her reiteration of instructions I already knew didn’t bother me. I let her talk.

I checked my watch. Twenty minutes to go. Working in the other branch hadn’t been this boring. It was always busy from open to close. Columbia had more than five times the population of Westminster, and it showed.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Jessica asked. I guessed she was bored too.

“Not much. I’m not that interesting.”

“Oh, I bet you are. I like to bake. I make cinnamon toffee cookies that are so good.”

I grinned. “They sound amazing. I don’t bake very often. I guess I could, and I do like cupcakes, but I live alone so I’d have to eat all of whatever I made.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“Sometimes. I’ve only lived in Westminster since the end of August. I’m sure as I make friends with people I’ll bake things and have dinner parties.” I suggested it, but it had never happened while I lived alone in Columbia. I had had friends, but the four of us had never sat around eating filet mignon and drinking red wine. We played video games and ate Cheetos. I probably wasn’t sophisticated enough to throw a dinner party.

“I’ll be your friend,” she suggested with a smile, sitting up straight and proud. “Maybe we could plan a party for the bank employees around Christmas time.”

I smiled back. She seemed nice. Jessica had pretty blonde hair and a bright smile. Sure, she’d made that comment about me flirting and stuff, but maybe it was true. Maybe Jessica wasn’t being mean, only helpful. I replied, “That would be nice.”

OUR CONVERSATIONS
continued all week. I found out she liked chick flicks and sushi, while divulging my penchant for knitting and baseball. I’d never play baseball professionally, but after playing in high school, I still enjoyed watching it. Moreover, the tight baseball pants showed off the players’ asses. Yup, I liked baseball.

Friday was busy again, just how I liked it. A busy day went by faster. Some tellers liked breaks in between to catch a breath, but constant work had never bothered me. This was a nine-to-five job, for the most part. I could rest after work. I remembered my dad working from five in the morning to six thirty in the evening every day of the week and some Saturdays, and he had never complained. Work was work. I certainly had no room to complain about bankers’ hours when my days were normally eight hours long.

When Tristan Carr appeared in the line, my heart sped up, but at least I hadn’t gasped for breath this time. His presence was becoming familiar. Lucinda and I were free at the same time, and we both waved him over. He glanced from me to her and then back again. He chose me, and I jumped for joy inside my unemotional facade.

I smiled and played it casual. “How are you today, Tristan?” He
had
given me permission to call him by his first name. I’d never done that with a customer before. For years I had known my customers’ first names yet only called them by their surnames because it had been proper and businesslike. With Tristan Carr, I liked the way his eyes softened when I said his name.

“I’m well, Grant. How about you?”

My insides quivered. He said my name so naturally, so pleasantly. He’d used it before, but this time my ears sent a signal straight to my groin. His voice made me weak and warm. “I’m good.” I kept my answer short and grabbed his stack of checks and deposit slips. I punched in the numbers and ran the checks through the check-scanning machine to the right of my window.

“Are you all right?” he asked, giving me a concerned look.

“What? Yes, of course. Everything’s fine.” His stack of money, however, needed sorting. The bills were upside-down and backward. It looked as though he’d dropped the stack on the way in and only scooped it up before making it over to my window. What a mess.

“You just looked, I don’t know, bothered about something.”

How could he read me that easily? Was I transparent, or was he psychic? “No,” I told him. I picked up a check that didn’t seem to go with the rest. “Do you want to cash this, or did you miss it on the deposit slip?”

“Cash it, please.”

I did and counted it back. I struggled to make eye contact, as I had that very first day. His eyes and voice certainly did something to me, and I wouldn’t be able to stand it if he continued to gaze at me so attentively. Was he studying me? Did he like taking in details, or was he amused by how nervous I got? Did he feel the same sexual tension, stretching the air between us so thin I could hardly breathe? He’d only been in a few times, but I could have sworn there was something unspoken going on between us.

“You’re wearing glasses,” he stated, picking up on a detail only Jessica had noticed today.

“Yes. Sometimes I like wearing my glasses. They go with my tie.”

Tristan took the bills and opened his wallet. “Yes. I’d say the black frames pick up the black in your tie very nicely. I like them.” As he stuffed his money in, a few business cards fell out and flew over to me.

I picked them up. One wasn’t a card, but a picture. “Aww, who’s this?” I asked, handing back the cards.

He smiled at the picture. “My daughter, Claire. She hates this picture,” he chuckled. “She’s probably eight here.”

Daughter?
Oh fuck me, he’s straight.
I’d never been so disappointed, but the info was probably for the best. If I had gotten this worked up over him in a week, then it was better than finding out he was gay and destroying our friendship with a date. The first date always spelled doomsday for me.
Tristan Carr is straight,
I told myself. Maybe he’d turn out to be a really good friend. My hormones could calm down. Although I’d probably cry about it a little after I got home, for now I could relax and enjoy the conversation.

“How old is she now?”

“Fifteen. It’s a challenge having a teenager, but I like our relationship. She’s old enough to have a semiadult conversation and young enough that she doesn’t feel embarrassed to talk to me. I know our relationship will change soon, and she’ll stop walking next to me in the mall and start wanting to pretend I’m not there when her friends are around, but for now it’s great.”

Tristan seemed so happy talking about his daughter. I think his voice was even more soothing now than when he made small talk. Saying my name had given me chills, but his relaxed tone made my anxiety lessen. I bet I could plop down on my stool and listen to him go on for hours about Claire. He had such a lovely voice. I sighed to myself.

“She sounds great.” No ring—he was probably a single dad. That had to be tough, but at least he liked his kid.

He looked at me. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to bore you.”

“You’re not. I like kids. Maybe one day I’ll have my own.”
If I adopt or find a surrogate.
“Feel free to talk about her anytime. I like how relaxed you are right now.”

His eye twitched. He regarded me softly, and slowly lifted the corner of his mouth. “I will. I’ll have to find a current picture and show you. If Claire knew I’d shown you this one, she’d probably die.”

I snickered. “That sounds like a teenage girl.” I didn’t know that much about teenage girls, but the comment fit the topic. I went with it. “Don’t forget these.” I handed him his deposit receipts. “I guess I’ll see you another day.”

He nodded. “I guess so. Do you have big plans for the weekend?”

“I’m going to finish painting my kitchen, and I was thinking of joining a gym.” I replied so casually I almost didn’t recognize myself. Knowing he was straight made me loosen up, I guessed. Why be tense and awkward when there was no prospect of something beyond friendship? He was just a guy I could talk to.
I can. I can really talk to this guy.
The revelation was freeing.

His expression brightened. “A gym, really?”

His question irked me for no reason. “Yes, I can join a gym. I might not be built like you, but I can lift weights the same as any guy.”

He was taken aback. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Grant. I was merely surprised, but in a good way, I assure you. We have that in common. I go to a gym myself. I find it relaxing. It’s nice not having to think about anything. A good hard sweat is cleansing for the body.”

I’d upset him, and that didn’t go over well with my need to hear his soothing voice. His apologetic voice made me feel bad for jumping to conclusions. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m used to people giving me a hard time about everything. Ever since I came out, it’s felt like an uphill battle.”

His eye twitched again. “Came out? As in… out of the closet?”

My synapses misfired. “Huh, what?” I blinked.

“You just said ‘since you came out,’ and I wondered if you meant you’re gay.”

Panic, shock, nerves frazzling. He’d made me feel so comfortable chitchatting that I’d come out inadvertently.
Oh, shit.
I glanced over at Jessica, only she wasn’t at her station. She was twenty feet away talking to Tracy by her office door.