Between the Stacks

Chapter 46

"How many nachos does the average person eat? Am I underestimating how much people love cheese? I could eat three pounds of nachos and not be satisfied. What's the average ratio of tortilla chips required per person? Is there any peer-reviewed literature that can help me out?"

Matteo was a whirlwind of energy as he ran from one end of the bar to the other. Napkins, straws, and tiny plastic swords spilled out from his hands as he attempted to shove them into a line of bags on the bar. The opening of the new Sunrise franchise was tonight, and he was pilfering a hodgepodge of bar necessities to make sure they didn't run out tonight.

"I figure the more tortilla chips, the better," Melissa said from beside me. It was our lunch break, and since we both missed Matteo, we'd traveled all of twenty meters to the Sunrise location in the Northern Ridge strip mall.

"I'm imagining the Yelp reviews already," Matteo said. I decided not to tell him about the peanut that had somehow gotten tangled in his hair. "Terrible service. Awful staff. 0/10 do not recommend."

"That's not what people will say. They'll probably try to get your number." I took a sip of my mocktail - it wouldn't be helpful if I was tipsy for the second half of my shift. (I'd probably caress Wesley's abs in full view of the staff, and that wouldn't be helpful.)

Matteo zipped up his bags. "I hope this isn't a mistake. Right?"

I could feel Melissa tense beside me. An introvert like Matteo, being a manager in a bar?

"Absolutely not." Melissa kept her eyes focused on her own drink. "Even if no one comes tonight, we'll spend our paycheck on all those tortilla chips you're ordering. And my own Yelp review will promise something fun, like happy endings in the bathroom-"

"Who's getting a happy ending?"

My chair faced away from the door, and I hadn't noticed Wesley come in. For a brief moment of panic I thought he would reach out to place a hand on my shoulder, but he recovered and placed it on the back of a chair. He sat down beside me instead.

"Not me," Matteo said, discovering the peanut in his hair and picking it out disdainfully. "Rob and I are so busy that we rarely have downtime. So I hope someone else is having all the sex that I'm not having."

I would not look at Wesley. I would not look at Wesley.

But I did notice Matteo's rather piercing glance.

Wesley recovered quickly and asked a few polite questions about the opening tonight; he had to get back to the library shortly, but he wanted to confirm the start time. "If you come before seven, I can comp your drinks," Matteo said. "I'm cutting Emma off at three drinks. Any more and she'll start singing to her piña colada."

"That happened one time, and we agreed you can't bring that up," I protested.

I could tell Wesley was about to ask for details when his phone chimed. His smile vanished as he read the message. Then his brow furrowed.

"Sorry, I need to make a call," he said. "I'll be back."

He slipped out the door to the parking lot before we could ask what the message had been about.

"I'm not sure I would want to be a manager," Melissa said. "Seems too stressful."

"Exactly," I agreed, and tried not to think about what could have upset Wesley so quickly.

---

He didn't come back to the restaurant by the time our lunch break was over. Melissa and I waved goodbye to Matteo before we went back to the trenches.

Back at my desk, I checked my email and frowned when I saw the most recent message: Can we talk in my office?

Wesley had sent it.