“Uh—” Emmett was already clocked out.
“It’ll be quick.”
He followed Rick to his office with a crawling feeling in his chest. Had he done something wrong? Was he being fired? He admitted his performance wasn’t what it used to be. After all these years without a promotion, he didn’t see the point of going above and beyond anymore.
The room was square and windowless, the red walls clashing with Rick’s collection of framed Padres jerseys. “Can you get the door?”
“Everything okay?”
“Nothing to worry about. Just want a quick word.”
They sat facing each other across the desk. Bobbleheaded baseballers nodded down at Emmett from the hutch, men he couldn’t have named for all the cash in the store. It was a long time ago now that his dad had taken him to Qualcomm Stadium to see the Padres play, back when Emmett was still trying to care about things his father approved of. The games ran together in his mind now: the same nine innings of boredom punctuated by a steady stream of all-beef hot dogs, unshelled peanuts, and ice cream.
“Say, Emmett, I got some feedback from one or two of your team members and I just thought you’d want to know.”
“Feedback?”
“Probably just a misunderstanding. A couple people mentioned you were sitting at your check stand this afternoon. Actually, I happened to notice that too.”
Rick was always doing this, using “feedback” as a cover for what were clearly his own opinions. Had anyone even said anything? Emmett bristled, knowing they likely had.
“Maybe you didn’t realize, but that stool’s for Josie to use while her foot heals.”
“Josie finished at three.”
“Right, of course. I wasn’t suggesting…” Rick rephrased: “It’s just that I think a couple people were a little… I mean, everyone would love to sit back and relax, wouldn’t they?”
“I wasn’t relaxing. I was working.”
“But working hard or…?”
The blood rushed to Emmett’s cheeks, his outrage squishy and tender.
“Look,” Rick said with a magnanimous smile, “if you say you were working, I believe it. I just wanted you to know how this kind of thing might look. No one wants to see a teammate sitting down on the job. Literally!” He barked out a laugh.
“Was there anything else?”
“No, no.”
Emmett rose, feeling his crack inching above his sagging belt. He resisted the urge to hike up his pants; in front of Rick, it would feel like defeat.
He opened the door.
“Actually, there was one other thing now I think about it. Someone made a comment—and I know the AC wasn’t working up front and it can get kind of sweaty.”
Emmett’s stomach dropped.Please don’t say it.
“Just maybe think about putting on an extra lick of deodorant in the morning, huh, buddy?”
A pair of teenage associates stopped in the hall as they were passing, their eyes flicking over Emmett’s body.
Spluttering into their hands, they hurried on.
Emmett felt the prickle return, this time hot behind his eyes.
Emmett had his phone out as he got into his car and started the ignition. The AC was broken here too—he couldn’t afford to get it fixed now that his rent had gone up—so he rolled down the windows to get a breeze through while he sat flipping through his stories. Not idly this time, but with intention.Where is it?
He fretted that it had gone, that he’d missed his chance.
