The Job by Claire Adams Page A

this morning?”
    Yup.
Jessica is definitely Linda’s soon to be replacement. She just doesn’t know it
yet.
    “I’m
fine,” Jessica answers. “Are you ready for today? It’s going to be a big one.”
    “What’s
going on today?” Linda asks.
    Jessica
looks at me and says, “Today, we get the store back.”
    *                     *                      *
    “Don’t
you think we should be getting back?” Jessica asks.
    “We
haven’t even gotten our appetizers yet,” I tell her. “What’s the rush? It’s not
like we’ve got a five-course dinner coming.”
    “I
just need to get back,” she says.
    “Just
relax,” I tell her.
    “I
don’t even know what we’re doing here.”
    “I
just thought it would be a good idea for you and I to
sit down and see if we can work out some of our differences,” I tell her.
“Things have gotten a little out of hand on both our parts.”
    “Maybe
so,” she says, “but what’s the point? After today, chances are you and I will
never see each other again.”
    “Yeah,
maybe,” I tell her, “but don’t you think it’s nicer to part with lunch than
just the memories of how we’ve screwed each other over in the last couple
months?”
    “I
don’t really care,” she says, and starts to get up.
    “Where
are you going?”
    “I’ve
got to get back there,” she says. “What if we have a big client come in and I’m
not there to answer their questions or help them find what they’re looking
for?”
    “That’s
what your staff is for,” I tell her. “You can’t be there all day every day.
Besides, it’s not like I’m asking you to take a whole day off, I’m just talking
about the next twenty minutes to have some breakfast or lunch or brunch or
whatever we’re calling this.”
    “Twenty
minutes?” she asks, now standing next to me. “That’s about nineteen minutes
longer than I can be gone from the store.”
    There’s
something familiar in the way she’s talking, but I’m sure it’s a coincidence.
    “You
work hard,” I tell her. “You need to eat. Otherwise, where are you going to get
the energy to micromanage everyone and stress yourself out to the point of
near-psychosis?”
    “Yeah,”
she says, “calling me crazy is going to really work for you here.”
    “Just
sit down for a minute,” I tell her. “The waiter’s coming with our appetizers.
If you find yourself having a conniption before the entrees arrive, you can
go.”
    “You
don’t get it,” she says. “If I’m not there, the store falls apart.”
    She
really is a control freak.
    More
than my ex was but somehow this trait always attracts me.
    “I
doubt you have any evidence to support that theory,” I tell her, “seeing as how
you’re never not there.”
    “Fine,”
she says in a huff, resuming her seat. “But this isn’t leisure time. This is a
business lunch.”
    “All
right,” I chuckle. “What business would you like to discuss?”
    I’d
expected the silence. What I hadn’t expected was that she’d actually pull out
her cellphone, dial her own store and ask whoever’s on the other line if things
are going all right, all the while assuring her employee that she’d “be right
back.”
    She
hangs up, and I can’t stop smiling.
    “What?”
she asks. “I get that you don’t take your job seriously, but that doesn’t mean
everyone else works the same way.”
    “That’s
hilarious,” I tell her. “I take my job very seriously. I just don’t fetishize
it like you do. Do you have any idea how condescending and insulting that phone
call was?”
    “It
wasn’t condescending at all,” she says. “They all know that I like to take a
hand-son approach when it comes to Lady Bits.”
    “You
know, out of context, that would be hilarious,” I smile.
    “Oh,
ha-ha,” she says as a smile forms.
    “And
you’re right,” I start. “You just told your employee that you don’t trust her
or any of your other workers enough to let