1
Jay
“You want to start something?” Tyler asks.
“You already started it,” I say, balling my hands into fists andstepping toward him.
I’ve only been here a few days, but this guy’s been grating onmy nerves ever since I began working at the factory. He’s another packingassociate, but for some reason, he thinks he’s superior because he has a littleseniority. I was fine with the attitude and him calling me Blue Jay to get onmy nerves, but when he tripped me as I was heading to the loading dock, I wasfinished being cordial.
Glass is scattered across the floor beside the box I dropped. Hecould’ve seriously injured me.
“It was an accident, man,” he says. “Not my fault you don’t knowhow to use your goddamn feet.”
That’s it.I spring forward, fists flying. His jawtenses, and he comes at me, rage in his eyes.
This is what he wanted. This is what he fucking asked for, buthe’s gonna wish he hadn’t when I break his nose. I’m about to lay into him whena force hits my shoulder and knocks me to the side. I turn to the guy whopushed me and punch. The blow knocks him to the ground.
When I see who it is, I’m horrified—it’s my boss, Reese Kline.The guy who interviewed me less than two weeks ago. The guy I practicallybegged to give me the position.
The right leg of his jeans is hiked up, revealing a dark graymetal rod. A prosthetic, I assume. Some of the guys in the office had mentionedhe’d been in Iraq. The way he limps slightly, I assumed he’d been shot. No onesaid anything about him missing a fucking leg.
Shit.
His face bright red, his eyes are on me, and I don’t see thefriendly man who greeted me when I first got here. I see something darker—likeI flipped a switch and now I’m facing off with the Hulk.
He rises to his feet, slowly, steadily, and I back up againstthe wall. Normally, I’d be game for challenging him, but the moment I saw hisleg and the expression on his face, my guilt dissolved all my defensiveness. Iwant to tell him I’m sorry, but the words are stuck in my throat.
He approaches, but stops before reaching me, breathing heavily,his hands trembling beside him. “My office in fifteen minutes. No sooner. Nolater.” His words are like bullets. Short. Quick. Frightening.
He walks away, leaving me in the middle of the small audiencethat’s collected around me during the commotion. “Clean it up, Tyler,” he callsover his shoulder, and I notice his limp more than I usually do—nowunderstanding the reason for it.
The guys aren’t even looking at me—not even Tyler, who I figuredwould be thrilled about me getting into trouble. We crossed a line with Reese,and I doubt that’s something he’s proud of. From what I know, the guys respectReese. He’s on the level with them, and he’s a fair supervisor. Doesn’t treatus like we’re inferior. Doesn’t condescend. It’s hard as fuck to find a bosslike him in this line of work. Typically, guys on the floor are talked down toby their superiors like we’re too stupid to know the sky is blue. Reminds me ofbeing a kid. Of my asshole father shouting at me like I was fucking nothing.
Tyler heads off to get shit to clean up the mess while Icontinue with my work. My co-worker William had dropped one of the packages offthe forklift when he was moving them onto the loading dock, so I was helpinghim clean up the mess when I had my run-in with Tyler. I continue helpingWilliam, dreading this meeting with Reese.
I keep my eye on the warehouse clock uneasily. It’s takingfor-fucking-ever for fifteen minutes to pass.
After how I humiliated him in front of the whole warehouse, he’sgonna fire me. That’s all he can do. Guys like Reese have egos. Big ones. Andthey won’t tolerate insubordination…or even worse, humiliation.
I’ve been in town less than a month. I thought I was lucky tohave found a new job as fast as I did, but now I’m gonna have to pack up andhead out.
Doesn’t feel fair. But I’m the only one I can blame for this. Itwas one thing to lose my temper with Tyler. It was another to turn it on theguy who was friendly enough to give me a break after he called one of myreferences and discovered I’d lost my job because of my temper.
“One shot,” he told me. “That’s all you have. Got it?”
Shot blown.
I won’t be groveling for my job. If he wants to get rid of me, Iwon’t humiliate myself over mediocre work at a glass bottle factory. I can geta crap job like this in any town.
As the clock reaches the ten-minute mark, the suspense itches atme like a rash. Finally, the time comes, and I head to his office.
He’ssitting at his desk. The cement walls behind him are lined with bookshelves anda few filing cabinets. He keeps his office clean.
His face stern, he rests a trembling hand on the table. “Closethe door,” he says as I enter. I obey and take a seat in front of his desk as Idid when we had our first interview.
His bright blue eyes sparkle in the room’s fluorescent lights, whichcasts sharp shadows beneath his cheeks. His tense jaw is covered in adirty-blond beard that matches the tufts of his bangs, which wave to the side.His massive biceps shape the sleeves of his short-sleeved button-up. He’s hot.The kind of guy I wouldn’t mind rolling around in the sack with after a fewdrinks. The sort of guy I’d want to fuck. Hell, I’d let him inside me—let himtake me, make me feel good. If only because there aren’t enough moments likethat in my life.
His gaze doesn’t waver as I sit before him. He glares at me likehe’s two seconds from hopping up and beating the crap out of me for thespectacle I made of him in front of all his employees.
