The others looked at me like they were going to smash one of the tiles over my head.
“Yes, agreed. Let’s take a break,” I said, knowing when to quit, clapping my hands with false cheerfulness as they all walked away from me.
I didn’t show it, but I was relieved to take a break too. Because Tim and I had been working shoulder to shoulder, comparing the tiles, stepping back to view them, it felt natural to stay close. I kept pace with him as we walked together toward the coffee truck, our hands brushing, our hips rubbing past each other with each step.
“Thanks, Tim.” I elbowed him, wrinkling my nose apologetically. “I know this is hard.”
“It’s not been too bad.” He smiled at me. I choked and he laughed. “Okay, it’s been fucking torture, but it’s done now. An achievement.”
We joined Trystan at his van around the corner and, without discussing it, chose to hover around the van rather than taking our drinks and cakes back to the warehouse.
Forty minutes later, it seemed like everyone except me was trying to delay our return to work.
“It’s been forty minutes. Ready?” I asked, mustering as much enthusiasm as I could. The exhaustion was closing in. I hadn’t realized the toll that working on the weekends after a busy workweek would take. This was effectively working my thirteenth day straight. And given my job wasn’t particularlyphysicallystrenuous, I had to give Tim credit. He hadn’t complained once about how hard this was on his body.
“You might just have to accept that a couple of those final tiles aren’t going to quite match,” Tim said, downing the last of his coffee like it was a life-giving potion necessary for him to face the arduous task before him.
I forced my best, knowing smile, even though I secretly thought he could be right.
We filed back into the warehouse, Simon and Freya leading the way, then me, with Tim trudging behind me reluctantly, the crew dragging their feet, alternating between smirks, eye rolls, and yawns, followed by the two interns.
“Stop!” Simon said. “We start filming now!”
I froze. What had he seen?
“Literally paint drying,” grumbled one of the crew, but all three raised their equipment quick as a flash, ever professional.
I wandered into the warehouse first. “Holy fuuuuuck.” My heart thudded into my boots.
Tim came next. He slapped a hand on his chest. “Oh my God! No, no, no.” He howled and dropped to his knees. “I haven’t cried since I broke my arm falling from Mrs. Shore’s apple tree.” I remembered it. “But I am going to fuckingsobright now.”
I stared at the concrete floor. Agh. Cake, too much coffee, and the horror of what I was looking at, coagulated in my stomach with a nauseating twirl.
In the space where we’d carefully laid out the tiles in a pattern, there was now emptiness. Just stained concrete floor. Clearly, one of the warehouse crew had picked up the arrangement we’d made. I checked the walls nearby. The tiles weren’t stacked there. They were gone. But where?
“Interns!” Simon boomed. “Find the tiles.”
The two interns scattered, but the tiles were nowhere to be found in the warehouse. Both interns scurried inside to make inquiries. Arms folded, Tim and I looked around nervously, and all of us stayed silent, maybe not wanting to jinx anything by guessing what had happened.
After a few minutes, the interns returned with a man who looked like he was in charge.
“Hello,” I said. I wanted to scream, but I steeled myself to stay calm. “We organized some tiles out here. Do you know what happened to them?” A surge of panic traveled through my chest and up my throat, making my voice shaky and high. I was going to cry. But I couldn’t. “We just spent two hours trying to recreate a block of uncut marble with tiles. We left for forty minutes, and when we came back, the tiles were all gone.” I thrust out two hands. “The floor is empty.”
“Those tiles.” The manager pursed his lips. “We were really annoyed you left them there. We couldn’t find you. We thought you just buggered off without taking them. They’re piled up back in the store. But in five different places.”
“Oh no, oh no.” My stomach slumped hard onto the hard concrete floor.
Tim was still kneeling, groaning, his hands on top of his head.
My head swayed with dizziness at the thought of what we now faced. Then something in my brain turned. Maybe the caffeine and cake sugar were now coursing through my veins, but the heaviness of what had just happened was replaced with a whirling ridiculousness.
I was never normally a ham, but for some reason, I felt so light-headed I turned to the camera.
“Women everywhere, take heart.” I turned to show Tim. “Today, I have literally brought a grown man to his knees. At the tile store!”
The crew burst out laughing and started clapping. Tim fell all the way to the floor, rolled onto his back, his arms flung to his sides.
“I surrender,” he called out from his position flat on the floor. “You are a better person than me, Tabitha. I’ll admit it to anyone. Just take pity on me. Please don’t make me do this again.”
