Page 12 of Surface Scratch
Ophelia raised her palm to him, a sign to wait. She bunched the four beers together and slid them across the bar, standing on her tiptoes to retrieve the cash the patron had laid on the counter. “Step out with me for a second,” she said, stuffing the cash into her bra. She picked up the Walkie-Talkie that was next to the register. “Andrew, come watch my bar.”
“Can it wait? I’m helping this lady find her wedding ring,” Andrew’s voice crackled over the speaker of the Walkie and into Caleb’s earpiece simultaneously.
“Fuck that, she shouldn’t be at a club if she’s married. I’m going now, and if anything ends up missing from my bar, I’m telling Marcus to take it out of your paycheck.” She set down the Walkie-Talkie by the registered and motioned for Caleb to follow her.
He looked back before stepping through the big doors with her. Andrew was scrambling his way through the center of the dance floor, his flashlight still on and bouncing around his wrist. Caleb shot a thumbs-up to Andrew as he darted behind the bar, flustered and out of breath. Andrew leaned over to catch his breath with a hand on his hip before giving Caleb a thumbs-up back and pantomiming a stabbing motion.
Caleb moved out into the hallway with Ophelia. She pulled a small notepad out of her back pocket and began scribbling as she spoke, not looking at him. “I’ll make this quick. Whatever is going on between you and Marcus should either move forward or die in the crib. I don’t really care either way, since you’re a big kid and can apparently handle Vincent fucking Bellenger, but whatever this is right now is really irritating,” she said. She looked up at him for a moment, her eyes showing that glimmering mischievousness, then went back to writing in the notepad.
His eyes widened. How did she know something had happened? Had she been spying from the hallway that night? Or did her dad tell her? He went to open his mouth, but a sudden irritating scratch spasmed in his chest. He began to cough, trying to bark out words as his eyes began to water.Not a good time for spit to go down the wrong pipe. He tried to clear his throat and speak again, but more coughing sputtered forth.Oh God, this is embarrassing. Just launch me into the sun at this point.
Ophelia rolled her eyes and snapped open the lid of the humming ice machine. She moved closer to him and popped the cube into his mouth, not seeming to care at all that he was coughing directly into her face.
“Suck on that and calm down, okay? This isn’t an inquisition.” She clicked her pen a few times as she stared down at the notepad and nodded to herself. “Usually when some new meat comes through here with a crush, I just let them wallow, but you’re growing on me like a cute little fungus, so I figured I’d say something. Plus, Marcus is moping around the apartment like a kicked puppy. Just know that this kind of thing never works out. I’ve seen it happen more times than I can count, and it always ends with a very messy situation to clean up, so do with that information what you will.”
She slapped the notepad against his chest. “But if you two don’t stop making horny eyes at each other all night, I’m going to burn this place to the fucking ground because its gross. Get a grip.”
And with that, she was gone, vanishing back into the club as if she hadn’t left a lit fuse in his lap. Caleb bit down on the chunk of ice in his mouth and swallowed it. It hurt, but the ice melting in his stomach helped relieve some of the embarrassment that radiated from his face. He looked down at the notepad and saw a list of different brands of beer and liquor.
Oh.
Caleb sighed and leaned his head back. That could have been worse. It actually could have been much worse. At least she’d affirmed his thoughts—it was a mistake to keep thinking about anything further happening.
He just needed to force himself to forget that kiss and accept what his life was shaping up to be. He was good at just accepting the bad things life thew at him. Like how life had changed after the accident, like how bad his mother’s condition had gotten, and like when his brother took off because he couldn’t handle the strain of taking care of her. That one had taken him a long time to come to terms with, but he eventually had.
No matter what travesty life dumped on him, he always justacceptedit.
He could feel the frown forming on his face as he walked down the hall toward the kitchen, staring at the list. This job had been a bright light for him. People actually seemed like they liked having him around. Even Ophelia had said as much, and that was one person he never thought would say something like that to him. He hated to admit it, but she was right, he needed to make a decision and stop being awkward about the situation. His first instinct was to let life happen to him. To endure it and survive.
Maybe it was time to take control. His regular way of doing things had landed him alone in low-income housing on the verge of an eviction, surrounded by unused medical supplies for someone who had been dead for two months, and still dealing with twinges of pain in his side from where he had been kicked by a BDSM enthusiast with boundary issues. Though he was still unsure about that explanation. There had been something haunting about the way Vincent looked at him, and everything he’d read online about that community didn’t mesh with what he had seen or felt in that room.
What if I just ask him point-blank if there’s something between us?Caleb wondered, allowing his mind to drift back to Marcus as he chewed on the inside of his cheek.Just say how you feel, get it off your chest. Maybe then you can stop daydreaming about it. Give him a chance to reject you gently and put this whole thing to rest.
That could work. The critical voice in the back of his head reminded him that the only reason he was so fixated on Marcus was because Marcus had shown him a kindness almost any other decent person would have. He’d needed help, and Marcus had given him that help. If he just demanded an answer, Marcus could tell him it wasn’t serious, there were just heightened emotions at play and that was how they came out, and that it would never happen again.
Yeah.That could work.
Caleb pushed his way into the kitchen and waved at the three line cooks. They ignored him like they always did, continuing their conversation with each other in a language he couldn’t quite place.
What would be the best way to phrase his question to Marcus? He grabbed the dolly near the back wall and propped it on its back wheels with his foot. Would it be weird to just assume Marcus had any feelings toward him whatsoever? His stomach flipped. What if he was reading too much into the whole situation and this was just something he needed to let go?
No, Ophelia said Marcus had been moping around the apartment. Surely that meant something. Well, unless she was fucking with him. It was really hard to tell with her.
Caleb shook his head and sighed. He’d have time to think of the right words later. For now, he needed to get to the end of the night and collect his paycheck so he could pay his rent in the morning. He pulled hard on the walk-in fridge’s door handle, the rubber seals hissing as a blast of frigid air rushed out to cool his skin. The thin layer of sweat that coated him from running around all night chilled instantly, making him break out in goosebumps as he stepped inside. He turned toward the rustling sound in the back right of the walk-in, jumping with surprise as he watched Marcus fumbling with a large hip flask and another metal fridge with a padlock on it.
“Oh, I thought you were one of the cooks,” Marcus said, glancing over his shoulder at him as he snapped the padlock back onto the fridge. He hesitated for a moment before turning around, wiping his forearm over his mouth as though he had just finished drinking something. “Hi.”
In that moment, looking at the somewhat surprised but still handsome as ever face of his boss, his resolve to corner Marcus and ask about his feelings vanished. Was he crazy? There was no way he could ever bring himself to be that forward.
Caleb held up the notepad awkwardly. “Restock,” he said, his voice cracking as he did.
Marcus grabbed a clipboard that had been resting on top of the locked mini fridge. “Inventory,” he replied, pulling a pencil from behind his ear. “Do you want help? I don’t mind.”
“No, I got it.” The words came out of Caleb’s mouth sharper than he had intended. He swore under his breath and turned away from Marcus to the metal shelving on the opposite wall that was lined with six- and twelve-packs of beer.Just get in and get out. Don’t make this more awkward. He’s older and more successful and not a wimp. He doesn’t want you. Just do your job.
He began loading the twelve-packs first. He couldn’t hear the music from the club, the only sounds piercing the low hum of the cooling unit were his own heartbeat in his ears and the clinking of glass bottles as he moved them onto the dolly in a precarious game of Jenga. Nearly every shift made him keenly aware of his own racing heart, the blood pumping in his veins as though it was being rocketed through him by a fire hose from a consuming mixture of fear, excitement, paranoia, and a crush growing faster than mold on seven-day-old take out. Maybe that was why he was so exhausted every time he got home and collapsed onto his couch without even removing his work clothes.
He shivered in the cold of the fridge, breathing hard as he tried to stack the beer as quick as he could. He needed to get out of there, away from Marcus, so he could think clearly again. It was as if just being near him scrambled every logical thought he had and turned him into a tortured mess of longing and blushes.
