Rumors

The phone rang at the exact worst possible time. Which honestly felt personal. Erin was crouched in front of a machine that looked like it had survived a small war, one hand wedged awkwardly under a panel, the other gripping a screwdriver she was about two seconds away from throwing across the store. The faceplate was off. Half the screws were lined up beside her on a folded napkin like that somehow made the whole thing more professional. Her knees hurt, her back was starting to complain, and the machine had the audacity to sit there silently like it wasn’t the source of every single one of her problems. Her phone buzzed again against the counter. She glanced up at it. Kenneth. A small smile tugged at her mouth before she could stop it. Of course. Because if there was ever a man who could sense when she was already irritated and then call just to add seasoning to it, it was Kenneth. She wiped the back of her wrist against her forehead, leaving behind what was probably a streak of grease or dust or something equally attractive, then grabbed the phone. Just for giggles, she answered in the sweetest voice she could manage. “Yes dear?” There was no pause. No laugh. No questioning tone. Nothing. Kenneth launched straight into his complaint like that was exactly how she answered every call. “I swear to God, Erin, they have lost their minds.” She blinked. Then laughed silently, leaning her hip against the counter. “Well good morning to you too.” “No, because listen,” he said, already worked up. “They want speed down, labor down, complaints down, waste down, overtime gone, and morale up. Up, Erin. They want morale up while cutting hours and adding three new expectations by Friday.” Erin looked down at the open machine in front of her. “I mean, obviously. You just sprinkle fairy dust on the schedule and threaten everyone with friendship.” Kenneth exhaled through his nose, and she could picture him perfectly. Standing somewhere in his store, probably near the office or wedged beside a prep table, one hand on his hip, the other dragging over his beard while he tried not to lose his patience out loud. He was good at that. Mostly. “They sent another email,” he said. “Oh no, an email.” “Don’t start.” “I didn’t even begin.” “You’re thinking about it.” “I’m always thinking it. That’s what makes me valuable.” He made a low sound in his throat, half frustration, half amusement. Erin smiled to herself and reached for one of the tiny screws, rolling it between her fingers while she listened. That was the thing about Kenneth. He called to vent, but he didn’t actually need someone to solve the problem right away. Not at first. He needed to get all the fire out of his chest before he could hear anything useful. So she let him. He talked about expectations. About staffing. About the new numbers they were supposed to hit without any actual support. About upper management pretending the stores could run on positive attitudes and laminated checklists. Erin listened, adding little sounds here and there so he knew she was still with him. “Mmhm.” ... “Yeah, that’s ridiculous.” ... “No, that math is not mathing.” ... “Please don’t say that to them in an email. You'll get us both fired.” He paced while he talked. She could hear it. The faint movement, the slight change in background sound every time he turned. When he finally slowed down, when his words stopped tumbling over each other, Erin leaned back against the counter and crossed one ankle over the other. “Okay,” she said. Kenneth sighed. “Okay what?” “Okay, now that you’ve finished emotionally assaulting me before lunch, do you want the real answer or the answer that makes you feel better?” “Real.” “You're sure?” “Fine. Both.” She smiled. “Your numbers are tight, but not impossible. You need to stop trying to fix all of it at once. Pick the worst pain point and build around that first.” “The worst pain point is everything.” “No, captain dramatic. The worst pain point is probably the handoff. Your rush dies when the team stops communicating between kitchen and front.” He went quiet. That kind of quiet that told her he hated that she was right. She continued, because annoying him was quickly becoming one of her favorite hobbies. “You’ve got strong people. You just keep letting everyone run their own island. Pull them together before rush. Give them one focus. Not seventeen! One! And stop trying to carry every broken piece yourself.” Kenneth didn’t answer right away. Then, softer, “You make it sound simple.” “It is simple.” “It’s not easy.” “I didn’t say it was going to be easy. I said it was simple. There’s a difference.” Another silence. Then he said, “How do you always do that?” “Do what?” “Make me less pissed off.” Her fingers stilled on the screw. For one second, the hum of the store around her seemed to fade into the background. She cleared her throat lightly and looked down at the machine. “Well. Somebody has to. You’re exhausting when left unattended.” That got a slight chuckle out of him. Not much. But enough. “Wow,” she said. “What?” “You sounded almost human for a second.” “Don’t tell anyone.” “Your secret is safe with me. Until I need it as black mail.” "I have a reputation to uphold." "Oh, right sure. We don't want to damage your reputation." They lingered on the line a moment longer than necessary. Not awkward, well not exactly. Just…a comfortable presence. Then Kenneth sighed. “I need to get back.” “Go fix your store.” “Go fix your machine.” She looked down at the exposed panel and frowned. "Ugh.” “You started it.” “I know. I always do." “Yeah,” he said, and something in his tone softened just enough for her to notice. “You do.” The line went quiet for a second. Then he hung up. Erin stared at her phone for half a breath longer than she should have before setting it facedown on the counter. “Alright,” she muttered to the machine. “You heard the man. Let’s get you fixed.” The machine did not get fixed. At least not fully. Frustrated groans filled the store. Twenty minutes later, Erin was sweating, irritated, and convinced the faceplate had been engineered by someone who hated women and personally wanted to make sure she couldn't get it. She lined up the bottom edge the way she was supposed to. She angled it. She pushed. She adjusted. She pushed again. Nothing. The plastic edge popped out on one side every time she got the other side close. “Are you kidding me?” she snapped. A customer glanced over. Erin smiled politely. The customer quickly looked away. Good. At least one thing in this store had survival instincts. She tried again, pressing harder with both hands. Nothing. She sat back on her heels and stared at it. “You know what? Fine.” She grabbed her phone before she could talk herself out of it. Kenneth answered on the second ring. “Hello?” His voice was calmer now, lower, the earlier fire burned down into something more manageable. Erin leaned back against the cabinet and sighed dramatically. “Hi hun.” There was a pause this time. Just barely. Then, “Hi.” That one little word had no business sounding like that. She ignored it. “I could really use your expertise.” “Oh yeah?” “Don’t sound so pleased.” “I’m not.” “You absolutely are.” “What happened?” She looked at the machine. “This stupid faceplate won’t go back on.” He hummed, and she heard movement on his end. “Did you line up the bottom first?” “Yes.” “Clips seated?” “Yes.” “Left side tucked under the lip?” Erin paused. “The what?” He laughed. She pointed at the phone like he could see her. “Careful.” “The left side has to catch under the lip before you push the center in.” “I did that.” “You just said ‘the what.’” “I said that emotionally, not technically.” “That makes no sense.” “It made perfect sense.” “Push from the center and roll pressure outward.” She did. The plate resisted. She grunted and shoved harder. Nothing. Kenneth’s voice dipped into amusement. “You sure you’re doing it right?” “I swear to God, Kenneth.” “I’m just asking.” “It’s not because anything is done wrong,” she said, annoyed and slightly breathless from trying again. “I just don’t have the muscle to push it on.” The line went quiet. Not normal quiet. A different kind. Erin froze with both hands still on the faceplate. “What?” Kenneth didn’t answer immediately. Then, very calmly, he said, “I’ll be there in fifteen.” She blinked. “What?” “I said I’ll be there in fifteen.” “No, you’re going home.” “I was.” “Ken.” “I’ll be there.” “You don’t have to drive over here for a faceplate.” “I know.” “Then why are you?” Another pause. Then, lower, “Because you said you needed me.” Her stomach did something stupid. Absolutely ridiculous. Inconvenient, really. She sat back slowly, her hand tightening around the phone. “I said I needed your expertise.” “Same thing.” “It is most definitely not the same thing.” “Fifteen minutes.” “Kenneth” The call ended. Erin stared at her phone. Then at the machine. Then back at the phone. “Well,” she muttered. “That's new.” But she didn’t try the faceplate again. Which was probably a sign. A bad one. Kenneth arrived in twelve minutes. She knew because she checked the time twice, which was normal and not embarrassing at all. The bell over the door chimed, and Erin looked up from where she was pretending to organize screws. He walked in like he belonged everywhere. That was one of the annoying things about him. He didn’t have to try. Kenneth just had that presence, rough edges, dark hair that had small spots starting to grey, a nicely trimmed beard, tattoos peeking from under his sleeves, the kind of man who looked like he could either fix your car or ruin your life, depending on the day. Today, apparently, he was here to fix her faceplate. His eyes found her immediately. “You look frustrated.” “Frustrated, and annoyed actually.” “You look like you threatened the machine.” “I might've but It deserved it.” He stepped behind the counter and crouched in front of the open panel. His shoulder brushed her knee as he leaned in, and Erin shifted back slightly. Not because she needed to. Because she suddenly became aware of the fact that they were very close. Kenneth glanced over his shoulder. “You okay?” “Fine.” His mouth twitched. He turned back to the machine. “Show me what you were doing.” She knelt beside him and demonstrated. “Bottom lined up. Left side under the lip. Center pressure. Nothing.” Kenneth watched her hands instead of the machine for a second too long. Then he cleared his throat. “You’re close.” “I’m aware.” “You just need more force.” “That is literally what I said.” He shifted closer, reaching around her. His arm came beside hers, tattooed forearm brushing lightly against her sleeve. “Here.” Her breath caught so quietly she hoped he didn’t hear it. Of course, Kenneth noticed everything. His hand settled over the faceplate, close to hers but not touching. “Hold the bottom.” She did. He pressed once. Firm, and controlled. The plate snapped perfectly into place. Click. Erin stared. Kenneth leaned back, wiping his hands together like he’d performed a miracle. “There.” She slowly turned her head toward him. “Are you kidding me right now.” He smiled and in a polite voice said, “You're welcome.” "I hate you." She huffed out with a sigh. "No you don't" he says back with a slight grin forming on his lips. That was the problem. She really didn’t. She rubbed her temple with her fingers and then looked up at him. "Thank you for helping." He just nodded and looks around at her tools laying around then he starts to pick things up and add them to the tool box. She joins in to help. They cleaned up the tools in a silence that wasn’t silent at all. It was filled with too much awareness. Too many almost touches. Too many moments where his hand passed near hers and neither of them moved as quickly as they should have. When the machine was back together, Kenneth stood and looked around the store. “Anything else broken?” Erin lifted an eyebrow. “Are you offering to help?” “Maybe.” “That's a dangerous habit.” His gaze slid back to hers. “Helping you?” “Showing up when I call.” Something passed between them then. Quick, almost nonexistent. A spark neither of them reached for but both of them felt. Kenneth looked away first. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk you to your car.” “I can make it there on my own." “I know.” She should’ve told him no. She didn’t. Outside, the evening air had cooled. The parking lot was mostly empty, the sky painted in the soft blue-gray that came just before dark. Kenneth walked beside her, close but not touching. At her car, they stopped. Neither of them moved to leave. Of course. Because apparently this was what they did now. He leaned against the side of her car. She put the tools in her trunk then moved and stood beside the driver’s door with her keys in her hand. They talked about work first. Safe things. Normal things. Stores. Numbers. Employees. The company and all its brilliant little ways of making everyone’s lives harder. Then somehow it shifted. Not into anything too personal. Not yet, but softer. He told her about a new hire who cried during training because someone yelled about sauce. She told him about the time she got locked in a freezer for eight minutes and still finished an inspection on time. He laughed at that. A real laugh. The kind that changed his whole face. Erin stared for half a second too long and her face shifted. Kenneth noticed. “You good?” No. Absolutely not. “I'm fine.” She certainly was not fine the ease of this conversation was making her think things she shouldn't. “You say that a lot but it never seems like the truth." “You ask that a lot.” She responded deflecting the best that she can. “Maybe you look like you need asking.” She tilted her head. “Maybe you look like you need therapy.” He laughed again. The warmth of his company, that pull was becoming stronger. That pesky little feeling she didn’t have a name for yet. An hour slipped by without either of them knowing. Eventually, Kenneth glanced at the time and sighed. “I should go.” “Yeah,” Erin said. Neither moved. He pushed off the car slowly. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” She knew she shouldn’t like the question. She knew she shouldn’t hear the little hope buried under it. She knew she should make it casual. Instead, she smiled. “Probably at some point.” His eyes held hers. “Probably,” he repeated. Then he walked away. Erin got into her car and shut the door, sitting in the quiet with both hands on the steering wheel. Her phone lit up a second later. A text from Kenneth. Next time, call before you threaten the equipment. She smiled before she could stop herself. Then typed back. Next time, it won't be a threat. His response came almost immediately. That sounds ominous... Erin stared at the screen. It was meant to! Honestly, still can't believe you came to help after you were off work. I'll come anytime you need me. She didn't respond she just smiled at her phone, the smile faded into something softer. Something nervous. Something that felt a little too much like the beginning of trouble. And honestly? She was already in trouble.