In Every Way (3 page)

Monday morning arrives entirely too fast. I’m not even close to being mentally or physically ready to work at a store on the freaking strip this summer, though I’m not sure if there would ever be a time where I am.

The strip is what they call the boardwalk of Blue Beach, a beach that does
not
get its name from the color of the water. Here in Texas, the water is a mixture between brown and gross, but it’s still a beach so I’m always grateful to have it, even if I don’t go there much. There’s something cool about living close to the coast, instead of in some land locked state. It’s like maybe the possibility of escaping one day is a little bit easier near the water.

I don’t mind the job, I really don’t. I’m a hard worker and I’m happy to help out one of Grandma’s friends. It’s just the location of the job that really sucks.

Although the strip is a bunch of beach front stores and restaurants, it doesn’t have one of those “no shirt, no shoes, no service” policies. That’s because nearly all of the customers are bikini-clad and spending the day on the beach.

That’s the part I don’t like. I’m Bessie the cow and I have absolutely nothing to wear to the beach.

Tears sting my eyes as I stand in my closet, the string from the light bulb swaying back and forth. I don’t have a single thing to wear. Reaching up, I touch the first thing in my closet, and then start flipping through until I’m at the other end. Nothing. Nothing at all.

All of my clothes are stupid and they all make me look like a fat cow.

“Bess?” Grandma calls out from the other room. “You need to leave in about five minutes or you’ll be late for work!”

“I’ll be out in a minute,” I call back, blinking until my vision stops being blurry from unshed tears.

I grab a pair of jean capris that are nice and stretchy, and pull them on. Then, I find a pink tank top that’s flowy along the bottom so it doesn’t hug to my stupid fat stomach. Sandals complete the look, and I don’t even bother looking in the mirror on my way out, because what would be the point?

Grandma stops me in the living room on my way outside. She’s wearing her pajamas still, but her red lipstick is in place as usual. “You have fun now, okay?”

She pulls me into a hug, squeezing me tightly as if I’m going off to war instead of work. Which, at the beach, I might be. At least, I’m in a war with myself.

“See you later,” I say, putting on a smile so she thinks I’m okay. But once I’m in my car, my stomach twists into knots and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this day.

There’s something to be said for self-destruction. I don’t even know what takes over when I pull into the donut shop on the way to work. Next thing I know, I’m in the drive thru line getting a donut with chocolate icing and a large vanilla iced coffee that has God knows how many calories. I am a failure and a fat ass and I deserve every single bad thought that goes through my mind.

My new job is at a place called Aiden Jane, a name which doesn’t even make sense to me, but whatever. I park at the far end of the parking lot and make my way toward the strip, even as trepidation fills my veins. I haven’t been to the beach in years. Not since that girl’s beach birthday party in seventh grade where I was told it would be girls only. It was
not
girls only. Boys from school showed up and I was mocked for wearing a two-piece bathing suit around all of my skinny friends.

I shudder at the memory and make my way along the boardwalk section of the beach. There are surf shops and food places and clothing stores. Typical tourist stuff. I walk past a pizza stand where the scent of melty cheese makes my mouth water, and that’s when I realize I totally forgot to pack healthy snacks for the day. Ugh.

Aiden Jane is a narrow store jammed between a Texas themed souvenir shop and a smoothie place. It smells overwhelmingly like those melted wax scent warmers, which are placed all over. There’s tables and shelves and an insane amount of merchandise everywhere. Racks of clothes, buckets of cozies, toys for kids, and flip flops with rhinestones on them. The walls have every inch of space filled with canvases or framed artwork that’s also for sale. There’s a lot of quotes around here, stuff like little inspirational sayings super imposed over a photo of a beach.

Julie appears from the back of the shop, her eyes lighting up when she sees me. Though she’s my grandma’s age, she keeps fit and tan and looks like one of those celebrities who no one can believe is so old when they look so young. She’s wearing a pink bikini with a black lacey swim dress over it and it leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. Her flip flops sparkle as much as her eyeliner and she wraps me in a big hug. Julie’s long white-blond hair is piled loosely on top of her head. She smells like cinnamon, and for some reason that makes me hungry again.

Though she wears skimpy beach wear every day, Julie doesn’t mention my regular clothing. I’m grateful, and really, I wouldn’t expect her to ask me to wear the same type of clothes to work. That would surely scare all the customers away.

Julie shows me around the store and teaches me how to use the register. It’s pretty straightforward, since the entire register is just an iPad attached to a cash drawer.

“Okay, I think that’s about it,” Julie says after an hour of showing me around. “It’s pretty simple. You just hang out and ring people up. Also try to encourage people to sign up for our mailing list that way they can get coupons and sales emailed to them once a month, okay?”

I nod. “Sounds good.”

Julie bursts into a smile. “Great! Well, I’m off to get my hair done. Call me if you need anything.”

“Wait, you’re leaving?” I ask, my voice rising to freak out levels of squeakiness.

She laughs. “Just for a couple of hours, Bess. You’ll be fine.”

And then she’s gone, and I’m all alone. It’s still early morning, so there’s no one around. I walk through the shop, looking at all of the items we sell here. Some of it is kind of cool, actually. There are handbags and magnets and decorative crosses. All kinds of things catch my eye.

A little while later, the door opens and two guys walk in. Julie hadn’t given me any customer protocol, but I feel compelled to say something. “Hi,” I say, offering them a smile. “Welcome.”

They both nod toward me and then look around the store. After a few seconds, one of them walks up me. He looks like he’s in college, with muscular arms and a chiseled jaw.

“Hey, so,” he says, not really looking at me as he talks. “Can you help me shop for my girlfriend?”

“Sure,” I say, trying to seem cheerful. “What kind of things does she like?”

“She’s pretty,” he says, scratching his neck. “So I guess she likes pretty things.”

“Oh-kay.” I look around. “We have sparkly cell phone cases?” I say, showing him a bucket full of them. “Some even say quotes and stuff.”

“Ah, cool,” he says, reaching into the bucket. He grabs two of them and then his buddy shows him something behind the front counter where we keep expensive items. He buys her a necklace and a bracelet and then two wallets from the latest line of designer handbags. It’s over five hundred dollars total, but he doesn’t even flinch when I tell him the price.

He just hands over his credit card and says, “She’s worth it.”

I smile, and this time I’m not faking it. “She’s a very lucky girl,” I say.

But he’s not even paying attention.
No surprise there
, I think. I’ve always been either invisible, or so visible that I get made fun of. I’d rather not be seen than be seen too much. There is no happy medium when you’re not some beautiful girl.

Once they’re gone, I relax and pray that no more guys come in today. I am perfectly fine without a reminder that no one likes me, thank you very much.

On the far end of the store, there’s this rotating stand of refrigerator magnets that all say some sassy quote. One of them catches my eye.

Proud to be a curvy woman
, it says in big bold font. The word curvy is wearing a pair of sun glasses. It’s stupid, but I take it off the rack and ring it up, paying for it with the cash in my wallet. Grandma is going to love this.

I wish I could feel that way about myself. Love my skin like she loves her own. But it won’t happen. I look down at my stomach, at my flab and my stupid hips that are way too big. I’ll never love this body I’m in. And no number of cutesy magnets will ever change my mind.

I stare at the texts on my phone as disbelief falls over me. I might think this entire thing is just an epic joke, maybe some kind of prank for a reality TV show, but that would be too easy. Too . . . sane.

Jenny:
goodnight!

Jenny:
I said good night!!!

Jenny:
omg fine, ignore me :-( :-(

Jenny:
Seriously? This is how you’re gonna treat me?

I should note that these texts were sent at one in the morning. I was already asleep and didn’t get them until just now, when I woke up. I keep scrolling.

Jenny:
whatever. I’m too hot for you anyway. If you can’t treat a girl right then why should I waste my time?

Jenny:
hello? You cant even talk to me now? That’s f’d up, you asshole

Jenny:
I’m just chillin. What’s up with you? I went on this lame date with some idiot earlier tonight and it sucked.

Jenny:
opps! Wrong text! Pretend you didn’t see that, LOL!

I roll my eyes. Right. Wrong text. I totally believe that. Her messages stopped for a few hours and then started back up again this morning. The chime on my phone is what woke me up.

Jenny:
Good morning you prick!

Jenny:
I need at least one text because now maybe I wonder if you died or something

Jenny:
Please tell me you didn’t die! I was going to give you a chance for a second date!

Jenny:
helllllllllooooooooooo

Did someone slip a crazy pill into her diet Coke last night? I think about ignoring her for the rest of the day just to see how far she’ll take this, but then I realize I should just be straight with her. I’m no longer in high school, so I don’t have time for high school games.

Josh:
I’m alive. Just asleep when you were sending all of those messages. Jenny, it was nice meeting you but unfortunately I didn’t feel a connection, so I think it’s best if we just go our separate ways. Thanks for understanding. – Josh

I’m feeling really good about myself after I send the text. It’s hard to let someone down, but I also don’t want to string her along or give her false hope. Even if I had felt a spark with her last night, all of these texts would be a massive red flag. My phone beeps a few seconds later.

Jenny:
lol

Jenny:
k

I set my phone aside and start getting ready for work. Luckily, at a surf shop, board shorts and a T-shirt are the only uniform, so I toss on a pair of flip flops and then I’m all set. It’s eight in the morning, which means I overslept and don’t get to ride to work with my dad. That kind of sucks massively since I have to pay for my own gas money.

Mom is in the kitchen, eating a bagel and reading a book. “Hey, hun,” she says, not looking up from the pages. “Want a bagel?”

“Nah, I’m good,” I say, grabbing some Pop Tarts instead.

Mom is a book nerd. She’s a stay at home mom, and now that Abigail and I aren’t really kids anymore, she spends all her time reading. She has a master’s degree in library science and keeps saying that one of these days she wants to open a bookstore, but it hasn’t happened yet.

The moment I walk out the front door, Bryce appears. His mom waves at me from her car as she backs out of my driveway, probably headed to work. Bryce doesn’t drive anymore because he had his license suspended for getting too many speeding tickets.

“What’s up?” I ask, already knowing the answer before he says anything.

“Just need a ride to the beach, man.” Bryce is tall and lean, with black hair and a constant smirk on his face. He’s a year older than Colby and me, since he failed junior year. Sometimes I’m not sure why Colby and I still hang out with the guy, and then I realize it’s because we can’t get rid of him. He’s a good friend, but kind of a shitty person.

“Sure thing,” I say, climbing into my truck. “Did you get a job or something? You’re not normally up this early.”

“It’s even better than a job, bro.” Bryce rolls down the passenger window and lets his hand hang out the side of the vehicle. “I went to this bonfire last night and had a blast. It’s some college group thing, I dunno. But I met a few hot chicks and they’re all going to be there today too.”

“That bonfire thing lasts a few weeks,” I say.

He nods. “You think I could get a bathroom key, man?”

I groan. “You going to take care of it?”

He holds up three fingers even though he’s never been a boy scout in his whole life. “Totally.”

At the Flying Mermaid, we have these outdoor bathrooms and showers on the back of the store that connects to the beach. They require a key to get in when the store is closed, and Bryce likes using them for when he sleeps on the beach. So far he hasn’t betrayed my trust and ruined the bathrooms or anything, but it’s still scary trusting him with something important. My parents would probably kill me if they knew I had spare keys I loaned out on occasion.

At the beach, the smell of salt water fills my lungs, reminding me that it’s summer. And summer is always a good thing, even if my dating life sucks.

Bryce joins me in the store to grab a cup of coffee from the break room. My dad is hanging up a new delivery of shirts, so I bypass the coffee to go help him.

“Dude, you should come to the bonfire tonight,” Bryce says.

“It must be nice to have zero responsibilities,” I say, ripping open another box of shirts. My dad snorts.

Bryce scoffs. “Dude, I have responsibilities. I make sure everyone’s having a good time at parties. You coming to the bonfire or not?”

I shrug. “I might stop by after work.”

Bryce slaps me on the shoulder as he walks by. “You better be there. You can’t get a summer girlfriend without actually going places.” With that, he gives me this stupid wink and then disappears out the door.

“That kid is such an idiot,” Dad says.

I laugh. “Tell me about it.”

***

By noon, the shop has had a ton of customers, which is looking good for summer business. I’ve sold two surfboards and a ton of beach wear. Dad decides to get us tacos from a few shops down, so when the door opens a few minutes later, my stomach grumbles.

“That was fast,” I say, looking up.

When I see who’s actually standing there, my blood runs cold. It’s not my dad. It’s Jenny.

She’s wearing a pink mini skirt that shows off her knobby knees, and a black swimsuit top, her arms folded over her chest. “There you are,” she says, walking to the register.

We don’t have one of those red panic buttons under the counter that you see on TV, but I really wish we did.

“Uh, hey,” I say, trying to smile. “What’s up?”

“Let me see your hands.”

I lift an eyebrow and show her my hands. She purses her lips. “That’s what I thought. You’re not missing your fingers . . . you didn’t break your wrist . . . so why can’t you text me?”

“I texted you this morning,” I say, standing taller. I am not in the mood for drama of this magnitude.

“Once.”

I lift an eyebrow. “I figured once was all I needed.”

I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. I keep it on silent at work, and since I’ve been so busy with customers, I haven’t bothered checking it.

There’s forty-six new messages.

“Holy shit,” I say, looking at her. Two more customers walk into the store, but they turn toward the shoe section, so they don’t see this exchange. “Did you send me all these messages?”

She shrugs. “It’s incredibly rude not to write back.”

“I didn’t get them until now, Jenny.” I lean forward, keeping my voice low, while being hella grateful that this two feet of counter space is between us. “You’re being a little . . . excessive. Please stop texting me.”

“I don’t understand why you said that in your text, Josh. We are clearly meant to be together. We should at least try it out. We make a great couple.”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t feel that way.” I glance over at the customers, and Jenny’s head flies around to look at them as well. My chest seizes up, but luckily she doesn’t say anything obnoxious. She turns back to me.

“You’re not giving this a chance.”

“How did you know to find me here?” I ask.

She rolls her eyes. “You told me like five times about your family’s business, idiot.”

I take a deep breath. “See? Name calling like that is one of the reasons I don’t think we should date.”

She flinches. “Are you so much of a pussy that you can’t take a little playful talk?”

Oh geez. My dad will be back any minute now and I don’t want him to see what I’ve gotten myself into. As much as I want to tell her to get the hell out of the store, I take a deep breath. “Look, I’m busy right now. Can we talk later?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “How much later?”

“I work until ten,” I lie. We close at nine, so we’ll be long gone by the time she comes back.

“Fine.” Jenny’s blue eyes meet mine and it sends a chill up my spine. Then she smiles all sweetly. “I’ll see you then, Joshie.”