A Side Effect of Celebrity

Four

It doesn't matter if you're famous or infamous. All that matters is you're a celebrity – Willie Geist

She was offered the closing shift for the deli counter at Eden Organics, a grocery store chain for the overly health-conscious. The produce was organic, the eggs free-range, and the dairy was of the non-dairy equivalent.

As she started at five and ended at midnight, the store was often near-empty for the second half of Claire's shift. It was only the occasional insomniac or late-night worker who came in when night had fallen and the stars were shining high in the sky above. Claire spent most of the time after about nine p.m. restocking the counter, cleaning the equipment, or helping her coworkers tidy and stock shelves in other parts of the store.

While she didn't love the hours they'd offered her, the pay was good. The owner had offered her two dollars above minimum wage for the gig and that, coupled with the money she got dog walking, was going help her significantly with her college fund. Not all the way, of course. She'd need to get loans but was already saving costs by living at home instead of moving into the NYU residence.

The downside of the job was that it was dull work, especially when Claire evaluated it against the dogs who ranged from gentle giants to chaotic pipsqueaks. No dog was the same which kept it lively, even more so when Claire brought a few of them together for a run at the park. Compared to chasing down dogs that didn't want to come back or go home, the deli counter was a breeze.

After a week and a half of working at Eden's, Claire was fairly certain that nothing exciting would ever happen at the grocery store aside from slicing up meat. On a particularly quiet Thursday night, only thirty minutes from store closing, something interesting finally happened.

It started with a quiet throat clearing. Claire peeked out from behind the back wall where she'd been cleaning one of the four meat slicers to see a man in a dark jacket and a baseball cap standing at the counter. Shoulders hunched slightly as he stared at the refrigerated case in front of him.

"Be with you in just a sec," Claire said to him as she went to wash her hands. He raised a hand in acknowledgement but didn't look up. When she'd rinsed the soap from her hands and dried them with a towel she walked back out to the front. "What can I get—Oh. It's you."

As soon as the words left her mouth, she realized that she probably shouldn't have spoken. That the young man with the bright green eyes and dark hair that were purposefully being hidden beneath the shadows of his hat wouldn't have a clue about who she was.

But then those eyes narrowed at her in contemplation and the pink lips twisted up just slightly. "Coffee girl from Central Park," Jay Dawson said in greeting.

Claire inclined her head. "Guy hiding out from fans in Central Park."

That slight smile transitioned into a full-on grin. Different than the sort of ones she'd seen him wear on the cover of magazines and on talk shows. Something a bit softer, more real. "Yeah, sorry about that. Did the coffee stain come out?"

"No, but it's okay. I really hated that shirt, anyway. I've been trying to find an excuse to get rid of it for a while because it was in good condition and it seemed wasteful to throw it away. You gave me a good reason to toss it. Maybe I should be thanking you."

Jay raised a brow and she realized that she was rambling. Claire took a breath. "Anyway, I'm sure you don't want to hear about my stupid clothing dilemma. Is there anything I can get for you?" She gestured to the meat and cheese assortment in the display case and went to pull on a pair of gloves.