Finding June (5 page)

“Umm … Yeah … I’m okay.”

“You sure? You look almost stunned. Did something happen? I swear I was only in the back for a minute.”

“I’m fine, Jo. Go on your date, have a good night.” I wasn’t feeling up to sharing with her right now.

Three days later, it was Friday night and I was working the closing shift. As I searched around my apartment for a clean apron and pens before going to work, I heard my phone ring. Picking it up, I didn’t look at the number as my search for pens continued.

“Hello?” Distracted, my mind wandered. Seriously, why do people always have to steal my pens?

“Is this June Rosewood?” the male voice said on the other end.

“It is.” I stopped my search and flopped down on my couch.

“This is Brian James.” Uhhhh, was I supposed to know this guy?

Lacking a real answer, I said, “Okay.”

The guy must have heard my confusion. “From the bank, you came in for an interview the other day.”

Oh yeah, this was the old guy who probably didn’t buy any of my shit. His voice came through the phone. “We want to offer you the job, Miss Rosewood, to join our team.”

I didn’t say anything. Did he just offer me the job?

“Miss Rosewood? Are you there?”

“Uhhh … yes. Sorry, I’m here. Could you repeat yourself?”

“I’m calling to offer you the job. Your mother said you were in need of a job, and I think you would fit in well with our company.”

When he uttered the words about my mother saying how much I need this job, I sucked in a breath. I didn’t know what to do. This guy was offering me an out, a path to take even if I didn’t know if I wanted it. It was the path that was deemed acceptable … boring, but acceptable. Was that what I wanted?

For once, I made a decision for myself. I said the only words I could at this moment, not thinking of the consequences. “I’m very flattered that you think my skills would be an added quality to your company, but unfortunately … I can’t take this job. Thank you for the offer.”

“Oh.” That was obviously not the answer he was expecting to hear. “Well, I wish you the best of luck in the future, Miss Rosewood.”

I muttered a good-bye and hung up the phone. He had no idea how much I needed that luck. As I sat there, the realization that after months of searching for a job related to my degree, I had turned down the only one I was offered. Holy fuck. Did I really do that? Holding the phone in my hand, I glanced down and started to panic. Should I call him back and tell him I’d had a moment of insanity, that I would take the job because I had spent five years in school and was tens of thousands of dollars in debt and taking the job was the next step in the plan? Because I had just thrown a huge wrench into that plan, the one wanted by everyone except for me. But I was second-guessing myself. I couldn’t help it. I felt like I had made a huge mistake. My phone rang again, making me jump slightly as my mind was so focused on the mistake I had just made. Looking, I saw it was mother.

“Hi,” I answered in a short tone.

“How did the interview go the other day?” Oh my God, of course she was calling me
right now.
Instead of me answering, she kept talking, “I called the bank, but Brian had already left so I wasn’t able to talk to him. Did he call? Did you get the job? I tried to put in a good word for you because I know you have been struggling and it only takes one person to give you a hand up.” My mother was the queen of backhanded comments and what she was saying was actually helping me clear my mind, making me feel more confident in my answer to Brian James. What I thought was a mistake, wasn’t. No, it was an opening for change.

“So did he offer you the job?” But that didn’t mean I had the same confidence level toward my mother yet.

“He did call and … no. Actually, he said he offered the job to someone else. Maybe next time.”

Another one of my mother’s melodramatic sighs were heard through the phone. “I don’t understand what you’re doing wrong, sweetie. It shouldn’t be this difficult, you have a practical degree and there are practical jobs out there. You can’t work at that restaurant forever, June, you need to figure out what you’re doing with your life.”

“Mmhm,” was the only response I was able to get out without saying something I couldn’t take back. “Listen, I’m going to be late for work. I have to go.”

“Fine, June, but next time maybe you should try something different with your interview. Whatever you are doing now is obviously not working.” My mother hung up and I couldn’t help but laugh. Yeah I know. Whatever I was doing now wasn’t working and it was time to try something different.

The serving gods were against me tonight. Shortly after starting my shift, I was actually in a good mood, feeling confident in my plans to live the life I wanted. Glancing at the floor charts to see where my tables were, I heard Reece behind me ask, “You ready for tonight?

I smiled. “I think I am.”

Reece looked at me and said, so only he and I could hear, “You should smile more, June, it’s a good look for you.” This only made me smile bigger, but not before I turned away so Reece couldn’t see. Yes, tonight would be a good night.

I was wrong. We were epically busy, and with my earlier revelations, my mind wasn’t focused on work. I screwed up an order so bad the whole table had to be comped and that was something I never did. I forgot to use safety language and didn’t say
behind you
when taking out a tray of appetizers. A coworker turned around, causing the tray to crash against me, and the extra ranch dressings I had gotten flew off the tray. You would think that such a small container of ranch wouldn’t cause such a mess, but it always seemed to have the ability to go everywhere. After quickly changing into a new shirt in the back, since I was covered with cheese and ranch, I went back to see I had gotten sat twice. Awesome.

The last hour flew by with an unexpected rush. Once the doors were locked, I knew I wasn’t going to be getting out of there anytime soon. I was closing with Reece, and after all the help he had given me tonight as I struggled to float through the rush, I felt bad for how standoffish I had been to him this week.

Plugging in my iPhone into the speaker system, I began work on cleaning up the mess from that last rush. As I approached my last table, I cringed at what a huge mess it was. You would think it was a family of six kids with their parents, but no, it was much worse … teenagers. A very inappropriate word was spelled out in ketchup and napkins were stuffed in water cups. Plates were everywhere, and I saw about two dollars left in loose change, which must have been my tip. The last hour I had made at least sixty dollars, so I wasn’t too upset about the crap tip, but the mess was huge and that was slightly irritating.

“Teenagers,” Reece said matter-of-factly, echoing my thought as he sat in a booth across from the table. All of the salts and peppers from the restaurant were on the table and Reece was in the process of topping them off.

Sighing, I started to work on the mess.

Reece’s voice broke my concentration from the table. “I’m sorry if I offended you earlier this week, I wasn’t trying to make it sound like you couldn’t do your job.” Here he was apologizing, when really it should have been me. There was no reason for me to attack him like I had; he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“I should be the one saying sorry,” I said quietly as I stacked cups.

“Well, we can both say we’re sorry and then have this awkward moment of silence where we don’t know what to say. Or, we could just forget and start over.”

Starting over. He didn’t even know the half of it. And I couldn’t help but agree. I was never good at first impressions, and I was good with a do-over.

Once again, Reece’s deep voice cut through my thoughts. “So, tell me your story, June?” I glanced up to see him filling the last of the pepper shakers and moving on to the salt.

“My story?” My story. Not anyone else’s but my own.

“Yeah, your story. What’s the story of June Rosewood?” His gaze drifted up to mine, his face holding a look of curiosity, like I was a book he wanted to open, to discover what was written on my pages.

I shrugged my shoulder. “I don’t know, I don’t really have one. I’m a typical girl trying to figure it out.” His gaze on me seemed innocent, but it felt like it was more, like he was asking me who I was and I couldn’t give him an answer.

“I don’t buy it. Everyone has a story.” Every time he spoke, he had confidence in his words. Not in a way that was cocky, but like he was sure of what he was saying and wasn’t going to be affected by my attempts to brush him off.

I shook my head. “Sorry to disappoint, but my story is pretty lame, and right now, in revision. No one would be interested in it.”

This time, Reece stopped filling the salt shakers and focused all of his attention on me. “That’s not true. I’m interested. I want to know your story, even if it’s not perfect.”

His words threw me. “Why? You just met me and I haven’t been the most pleasant person.” Understatement. Oh, and the whole
incident
from the first day. All strikes for me. “It doesn’t make sense.” His attention never wavered from me even when I went back to stacking plates.

“Maybe that’s why I want to know.”

I laughed. “Because I was a bitch? Sure, that totally makes sense.”

“Honestly, I think it’s a front, only a superficial layer of your story, and it makes me want to dig deeper. And if you don’t know your whole story right now? That’s okay. I don’t mind hearing it in bits and pieces. Tell me a tiny piece of your story, June?” By now I couldn’t focus on cleaning the table. I moved around to sit in the chair only feet away from Reece. This man was different from anyone I had met, and I felt like a moth drawn to a flame. His features were handsome, one of the most attractive men I had encountered. His hair fell in his eyes and his lips looked inviting, all of it inciting me. Though what really got me were his words. They drew me in, even if the rational part of my brain was telling me to resist. He cocked his head, tipping it to the side and encouraging me to tell him something.

“I …” I couldn’t even figure out something worthwhile to share with Reece, to keep him interested in my so called story.

“Don’t think too hard about it. The first thing that pops in your head.”

“I like music.” It was true, music was a soothing balm when I needed a moment away from the frantic pace of life.

Reece nodded his head, like he approved of my answer, a content look on his face. “I do, too. All right, a true music lover’s question. Which do you like better, the original Wonderwall by Oasis or Ryan Adams’ version of it?” Reece pointed up to the ceiling, and as I tuned my ears in, I heard the Ryan Adam’s version through the speakers.

I laughed, and this time it wasn’t one full of snark. “Is it bad if I say Ryan Adams’ version?”

He turned in the booth, facing me. “No, not at all. Why?”

“I’m all for the original, it’s a great song, but Ryan Adams’ version is haunting. At moments it demands you to listen to it, but then fades again into only soft sung words. Oasis’ version is like an orchestra, and Ryan Adams has as much power in the song with only a few instruments and his voice.” I was surprised at myself, the passion I had just spoken with. I looked over at Reece for his reaction and saw his eyes roam over me.

“That’s beautiful.” It was soft spoken, but his words crashed around me, the quiet of his voice leaving no room to hide from. I blushed, amazed at what a simple word could do. He wasn’t calling me beautiful, but it had been a long time since anyone had directed that word toward me. He continued on, easing the moment we just had, “I tend to agree with you. I actually heard the Ryan Adams’ version before I heard Oasis. I guess that version stuck with me more.”

“Where did you hear it from?”

His gaze went beyond me, and for a moment he looked like he was somewhere else. “From someone who played a role in my story.”

He looked back at me and I sat there with nothing to say, though I suddenly felt pretty interested in his story.

“You guys going to sit there all night or actually work toward getting out of here? I would like to go home before the clock strikes midnight.” The voice broke us out of the moment we were having. Bethany, a co-worker and Sometimes Friend, stood with an irritated look on her face. “Oh, and I am not cleaning up the ranch mess you left, June. You’ll be the one to climb on the counter to wipe it off the walls.” Bethany turned around and walked back to the dishwasher.