“Not too shabby,” I agree. Quickly we pack up the tools and head in the house.
“Just in time,” Mom says over her shoulder. She grabs the casserole dish from the stove and sets it on the island. “Dig in.” She turns back to get the garlic bread.
One thing I miss about no longer living at home is Mom’s cooking. If I didn’t know better, I would swear that’s why Dad married her. The woman is a genius in the kitchen. Dad and I grab plates and pile them high with Mom’s baked spaghetti. She adds a huge piece of garlic bread to each and we take a seat at the table.
“Don’t wait on me.” She nods toward us. “Eat.”
Not needing to be told twice, we dig in.
“So, I was thinking, it’s been a while since your dad and I have been to the club. When is a good time to stop in and see the progress?”
“Mom, you don’t need an invite. You know that.”
“We just know that you have a lot going on, and we didn’t want to get in the way or delay you in any way.”
“Any time next week is fine. I’m there most days all day.” Mom smiles at my comment and my work here is done. I finish up and take my plate to the sink. “Thanks for feeding me, twice.” I pull Mom into a hug when she stands to take her plate to the sink as well. “I need to get going. I’ll see you two one day this week?” I ask, looking at Dad.
“You can count on it,” he says, standing from the table as well. They walk me to the door and we say a quick goodbye.
As soon as I get home, I take a shower and wash off the day, dressing in lounge pants and a T-shirt. My plan is to get caught up on e-mails and go over the ever-growing list of items that need to happen before Club Titan opens its doors.
Three hours later, e-mails have been knocked off the list. Now to look at everything that still has to get done. As I’m making notes, I remember Mom mentioning an employee manual. I add that to the list. Maybe I should tell Berklee, give her a heads-up to start thinking about it. Not giving myself time to change my mind, I grab my phone and send her a quick text.
Me: I know it’s the weekend, so don’t reply. Just wanted to have you put an employee manual on your radar for the club.
I hit Send and set my phone on the arm of the couch. A message alert sounds not a minute later and although I doubt it’s her, I reach for it, almost dropping my laptop in the process. Fuck, this girl has me acting like a horny-ass teenager. Tapping the screen, her name appears.
Berklee: Got it, boss. That was already on my list.
Me: Good to know you’re all over it. And it’s Crew.
Berklee: Got it, Crew.
Me: Better.
Just as I’m about to put the phone down, it alerts me to another message.
Berklee: Do you ever stop working?
I think about her question. I used to. I used to live for the weekend, grabbing a beer, hooking up with a beautiful woman. Then I got the letter, the inheritance, and everything changed. Suddenly I was leery that those women were out to trap me, tap into the funds. More than that, I wanted to do something with it. Build an empire, so to speak. Sure, I inherited the money, but I wanted to make something of myself with it. The club is that for me. Failing is not an option, so yeah, I’m at home working on a Saturday night.
Me: If you knew me a year ago, you would not have asked that question.
Berklee: So, what changed?
Me: Life.
Yeah, the answer is vague, but I’m not much of a spill-my-guts kind of guy. She must sense that with my reply because she ends the conversation when her next text comes through.
Berklee: See you Monday, Crew.
I lock the screen on my phone and toss it beside me on the couch, focusing on the to-do list. At least I try. Texting Berklee completely broke my concentration. It happens any time she’s around. Hell, even when she’s not, I let my mind drift to her. Texting her is not good for my productivity.
I’M WIDE AWAKE when the alarm goes off at seven. I didn’t sleep well last night, thinking about today—my first official first day at Club Titan. Well, not really, but it’s now my only job, my only source of income, so it feels like the first.
I took full advantage of my three-day weekend. Friday, Maggie was off too, so we hit the mall. I needed more professional clothes, not just skinny jeans and leggings that I wore at Coffee House. Saturday night, Maggie, Barry, Zane, and I along with a few other mutual friends hung out at our place to watch the UFC fight.
At first I was reluctant and was planning to go to my parents’; Crew didn’t seem too impressed that Zane and I knew each other outside of work, and the last thing I need is to get fired before I even really get my feet wet. Barry assured me it was fine. He even went so far as to call Zane and made me talk to him. He assured me Crew was just cranky with the stress of the club and all was fine. Maggie also made a good point that Zane and I are just friends, nothing romantic, and there’s no law against that. Although, pissing off my new boss is not on my to-do list at the moment.
Sunday, I just caught up on laundry and lounged around with Maggie. We had a Lifetime movie marathon.
I stare at the alarm clock as the time rolls over to seven fifteen. Groaning, I climb out of bed and head to the shower. I’m going to need a huge dose of caffeine to get me through the day. Good thing Coffee House is just around the corner. I wasn’t super close with my coworkers, but it’ll be nice to see them when I stop in. With the close proximity, I’m sure I’ll be a frequent flyer.
Once I’ve showered and dressed, I make my way to the kitchen. The condo is quiet, Barry and Maggie both long gone. She got the call yesterday afternoon to sub all this week. Popping a bagel in the toaster, I head back to my room, grab my shoes and slip on a couple bangle bracelets and my earrings. I look at myself in the full-length mirror and grin. I’m wearing a gray pencil skirt, a coral silk shirt, and my natural wavy hair is hanging down my back. I grab my black strappy heels and call it good.
Quickly scarfing down my bagel, I grab my purse, lock up and head to work. I feel like . . . an adult. It sounds crazy, but this is my first “big girl” job after college. The first job I get to use my degree. I feel like today starts a whole new chapter in my life. I can’t keep the grin off my face as I make the short drive.
Checking the clock, I see that I have plenty of time, so I stop at Coffee House. A new guy is behind the counter. “Hi, what can I get you?”
He’s easy on the eyes, and of course I’m still on my “big girl job” high, so I give him a cheesy grin. “Good morning, Noah,” I say, reading his name tag.
He grins back and his dimples show. “I’ll have two extra-large black and one extra-large pumpkin spice.”
“Berklee!” Carrie, my boss—scratch that, former boss—comes out of the back and greets me. “You just can’t stay away.” She laughs.