“I hope not,” I finally manage.
“Yeah,” Ro says. “Me, too.” They shut their locker door gently, then head out of the staff room to the front of the store.
Another email featuring a grumpy customer headline pings the inbox. The vision for how my day wassupposedto go flits through my mind—curled up with Argos on his fluffy doggy bed and Charmaine Wilkerson’s new release.
I sigh heavily. “I need arealvacation.”
Hailey, our fresh-out-of-college new hire and the reason I dragged myself to work today rather than curled up on my couch with a good book, pops her head into the staff room. She’s still humming with nervous, guilty energy.
“How’s it going?” she chirps. “Need another coffee?”
“Going okay. And no, I’m all caffeined out. Thank you, though.”
Her nervous gaze darts between the computer and me. “Need anything else?”
“Nope. I’m heading out for the day. But if Fern comes in before closing, would you text to let me know?”
Color drains from her face. “IsMs. Holloway coming in?”
“Not that I know of,” I tell her, eyes back on the computer screen as I crank out one last email response to a disgruntled customer. “Just wanted to be notified if she does.”
Hailey nods. “Okay! Of course!”
Once she’s gone, I let out a heavy sigh, stand, and stretch. A miserable groan leaves me.
I’m halfway to the staff door exit when my phone buzzes. I pull it from my overalls pocket, glance at the screen, and smile as I answer.
“That’s a pretty fancy outfit for a run, Lo.”
Lauren’s behind the wheel of what looks to be the latest rental sports car, in her usual corporate-chic attire. Hair swept up into a tight chignon, eyes hidden behind Manhattan sunglasses, her look today is very Audrey Hepburn inBreakfast at Tiffany’s. If Holly Golightly had road rage.
Lauren slams on the horn and yells, “Asshole!” She darts a glance my way, then back to the road. “Sorry about that. As you can see, I’m running late for our buddy-run. Why are you in real clothes? Are you at work?”
“Not anymore.” I shut the staff door behind me and start across the gravel parking lot.
“I thought you were off today.”
“I was.”
Lauren glances my way again, a notch of concern in her ordinarily wrinkle-free brow. “I feel like there’s a story there.”
“A long one.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Maybe once we start our run, if I can talk while running, which, knowing the pace you make me run, I probably won’t.”
She grins evilly. “You like my grueling pace.”
“Oh sure. I love it. Maybe I’ll get started on the run now so I can take it easy but still finish when you do. I probably could run in what I’m wearing.”
“Let me guess,” Lauren says. “Stretchy overalls and Birkenstocks.”
“Bingo.”
She sighs. “One day, I’ll get you to wear more flattering footwear.”
“You’ll never take away my ’stocks.”