To: amy_monroe@mail.com
From: juliethegreat14@mail.com
Subject: Hey
Dear Amy,
Don't worry, I'll figure it all out. Are you having fun yet?
Your Strong and Independent Cousin,
Juliet
I unlocked the door to Al's right at four-thirty. I turned on the lights and looked around. I got to work pulling down the chairs and setting up the tables. I'd never actually been there to watch Reed set up, but I just did the opposite of what we did at closing. Twenty minutes later, I set up my laptop at the counter, determined to start writing my paper. Before I could even open the blank Word document, the phone rang.
I got up to answer it, hoping it was a wrong number. When I'd agreed to open, I'd assumed I'd just be sitting around. I hadn't signed up to actually do anything. "Hello."
"Hi. Who is this?" a deep voice replied.
"You called me, remember?"
"Actually, I called my restaurant."
Oh geez, it had to be the owner. "Oh. Sorry. I'm Juliet. Reed hired me."
"Is Reed there?"
I let out a deep breath, hoping I wasn't about to get Reed in trouble. "No. He said he had to go somewhere."
"Oh. So he left you by yourself?"
"Yes."
"Interesting." He paused. "I called to give Reed a heads up that I was coming in today."
"Oh. What time?"
"Now. I'm in the car."
"I guess you'll get to meet me then."
"I guess so." He laughed. "You said your name was Juliet?"
"Yes."
"Nice. I'll see you in fifteen."
"Bye."
Fifteen minutes? The owner was going to show up in fifteen minutes? I shut down my laptop, stuffing it in my bag before stowing all of my stuff in the back. I texted Reed an SOS message, but he didn't reply. I looked around, trying to remember how Reed prepped everything. I managed to turn on the ovens when I heard the jingle of the door. I smoothed down my t-shirt, glad this one fit appropriately.
"Hello?" a male voice called.
I plastered a smile on my face and came out from behind the counter. "Hi."
"Hi, Juliet. I'm Al." A man who couldn't have been much older than thirty-five held out his hand. He had sandy brown hair with just a hint of gray.
"It's nice to meet you. Thanks for the job, by the way."
"Hiring is all Reed. I like to leave it to his discretion."
"Oh, okay, that's how he made it sound."
Al walked around me to the back. "How do you like working here so far?"
I followed behind him. "It's been nice. I just started this week."
"This week? Reed must trust you, huh?"
"I guess...or he didn't have other options. No one else comes in before eight..."
He checked out all the equipment. "Not to be too forward, but how did you and Reed meet?"
"At an event my sorority and his fraternity were having." That was the simplest explanation.
"Oh. You must have made quite an impression for him to have offered you a job..."
"Yeah..." I guess Reed didn't make hiring random girls a habit. I thought about it. I was the only girl who worked there.
"Sorry, I'm not trying to embarrass you."
He walked back out to the counter and took Reed's usual stool.
"Have a seat."
I nervously sat, tugging my skirt down a few inches first.
He noticed and tried to hide a smile. "You don't have to be nervous. If Reed hired you, he had his reasons. Your job isn't on the line."
"Okay, good."
"You didn't mention it earlier. How long have you and Reed been dating?"
I felt blood rushing to my face. "Oh, we're not dating."
"Okay...I guess I read this wrong."
"We're friends—one hundred percent friends."
"Oh."
"Yeah. I have a boyfriend."
Al smiled. "Good to know."
"Sorry, you didn't ask that. I was just—"
"Relax. I try to stop by whenever I'm in town." Thankfully, he ended that embarrassing line of conversation.
"You don't live in Charleston?"
"My home base is here, but I travel a lot."
"That makes sense."
He smiled again. "Where are you from?"
"Maryland. Outside D.C."
"What brought you to Harrison? I assume that's where you go?"
"Yes. My grandparents have a vacation home down here, and my cousin went to Harrison."
"Got it."
My phone went off—blaring Michael Jackson's Thriller. It was a joke between my brothers and me.
Al laughed. "Aren't you going to get that?"
"Yeah." I got my bag and pulled out my phone. "Hey, Reed."
"What's up? I just saw your message."
"Al's here."
"Seriously?" His voice went into panic mode.
"Yeah."
"Be right there."
"Good." I hung up.
Al glanced at me. "Reed's on his way?"
"Yes."
"Great." He sounded calm. Hopefully, that meant Reed wasn't in trouble or anything.
"Yeah." I sat back down. This was seriously awkward.
After what felt like an hour later but was probably only ten minutes, Reed walked in. "Hey," he said to both of us. Reed was dressed in slacks and a button down shirt. I'd never seen him dressed up before.
Al turned to Reed. "Nice of you to show up. I've just been getting to know Juliet who isn't your girlfriend because she has a boyfriend."
I wanted to hide my head in my hands.
Reed nodded. "Yeah, she's definitely not my girlfriend." What was that supposed to mean? Would he have been embarrassed to admit it if I was?
Al glanced at me before turning back to Reed. "If I were you, I'd change that, but I'm not you."
"Nope. What's up? I didn't know you were around."
"Your mom wanted me to talk to you."
"Oh?" Reed looked nervous, like it wasn't a conversation he wanted to be part of.
"Yeah. She was hoping you'd come up for Thanksgiving."
Reed put his hands in his pockets. "She knows what my answer is. I don't get why she keeps asking."
"We can shut down for the break. We never get any traffic that weekend. Or why not let Juliet run the place? She's doing a great job." Al grinned at me.
"We'll see." Reed looked out the window. He seemed distant, and I wondered what was up with his family.
"It's time to stop making excuses. Life's too short to hold grudges." Al got up and patted Reed on the back in a really familiar way. I was almost positive their relationship went beyond employer and employee.
"Well, as fun as this has been, I'm going to leave you two. Pleasure meeting you, Juliet."
"Uh, you, too."
Reed followed Al out, and I just stood there. He returned a minute later. "Sorry about that."
"Yeah, that was kind of awkward."
"I had no clue he was stopping by."
"I figured that much."
"If it's any consolation, he liked you." He put his bag down behind the counter. It was a briefcase kind of bag, not the backpack he usually carried.
"Who is he?"
"Al. The owner of this place."
I leaned back against the counter. "That's not what I meant, and you know it. Who is he to you?"
"My uncle."
"Oh."
"I lived with him for my last few years of high school."
"Oh, cool." I wanted to know more, but at the same time, I didn't want to be rude. What I really wanted to know was where he'd been.
"You're dying to know where I went today, aren't you?"
I laughed nervously. "How'd you know?"
"It's the look on your face. It's a total giveaway."
"I'll try to be less obvious next time."
"I volunteer at a school downtown. They had a mock debate today, and they wanted me to judge."
"Really?"
He unbuttoned his shirt, revealing an Al's Pizza t-shirt underneath. "Yeah."
"That's—"
"Wait, let me guess. You think it's cool." He tossed his dress shirt on top of his bag.
I laughed. "Yes. I think it's cool."
"Other than Al, did anything happen in the hour I left you here?"
"Unless you count that order for twenty-five pizzas, no, nothing unusual."
"Good to know. Well, feel free to get work done or whatever. I'll take care of the rest of the prep."
"Thanks." I pulled my laptop back out and opened Word.
"What are you working on?" he said from right behind me. I guessed he was looking at my screen.
"The first assignment for my writing seminar."
"Yeah? It doesn't look like you've gotten too far."
"Very funny. I have no idea what to write."
He sat down next to me. "What's the assignment?"
"It's supposed to be easy, an analysis of our favorite book."
"Where's the problem?"
"I don't have a favorite book."
"Because you don't read?"
"Of course I read. I just don't have a favorite."
"Just pick a book you like."
"But that's like saying one's better than another."
"They're books, not people. You know that, right?" he said really slowly. "Here, try this."
"What?" I asked as he moved behind me.
His hands covered my eyes. "Name a book."
"What are you doing?"
"Name a book."
"Why?" If I had any doubt before, I now knew his hands were strong. They felt strangely comfortable on my face.
"Just do it, Juliet."
"One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest."
He removed his hands. "There you go."
"That's not my favorite book."
"Then why'd you name it?"
"Because you're acting crazy, and it's a book about crazy people."
"It is not a book about crazy people...it's so much more than that, but I'll let your comment slide."
I turned around to look at him. "I take it you're a Ken Kesey fan?"
"Wow, you know the author. That settles it. Get out of here, find a copy, and write the paper."
"Like, go to the library?"
"Yes. Ever hear of it? I'm giving you a few hours off—to do work. Not to hook up with Dylan. Oh, and if you can get back by nine, that would be great."
I ignored the Dylan comment. "Thanks. That's nice of you."
"You helped me out earlier."
"Okay, I'm off to the library." I grabbed my stuff.