Overtime (DISCONTINUED)

Chapter 1

 Did it hurt when you fell from heaven? Did it hurt just to know, I was right here awaiting? Did you know, do you know? It was love from the first time we touched.

I think, personally, the one thing that can piss me off beyond belief is tardiness. So, naturally, I can understand why my mom would be screaming in my face at this time.

“Did I not tell you nine am, sharp?” Her shrill voice rings through her small little office. It’s a cute little room, really. Worn desk with its paint chipped off is littered with papers. The old dinosaur computer my mom should really be replacing sits on the desk, humming a low purr throughout the room out of years and years of use. The bookcase that stands in the corner holds virtually no books, but instead is used as a file cabinet for my mother, with bins of papers alphabetized down the rows. Seriously, my mother is way too disorganized to be running a business.

“Yes,” I mumble. “My shift doesn’t start until 9:30, though.”

My mom moves a stack of papers from her desk to the table behind her.  This is where she saves all of her more important matters.

“I wanted to show you around and get you used to everything,” she responds.

“I’ve been coming here since I was five. I know my way around,” I defend myself. I take a quick peek at the wall clock. 9:27. I’m technically early for my initial start time.

She takes a deep breath and whips around to face me. “Brinley, my word is final. You are late. Now, I will have to have another employee take you on a tour because I have a meeting.”

“What tour? Eleven years, Mom! Nobody needs to tell me what to do.” The last thing I want right now is to deal with other employees, my now co-workers.

My mom shakes her head and scribbles down on a sticky note. “You and your father. Too stubborn to listen to anything I say.”

She slaps the sticky note next to her collection on her desk. I wonder if she ever attends to those, or if just makes her feel like she’s being productive.

She picks up her phone and pages her secretary, Beth, whose been working here for as long as I can remember. “Can I see Austin in my office?” There is pause before she says thanks and sets the phone back down.

“You’re going to be nice, polite, and a respectful young lady. Can I trust that you will cooperate with everyone today?”

I mutter a yes. I’m certainly not happy about it, but she won’t let me off without an answer.

“Nice that we’re coming to an understanding. I have you down working as a courtesy clerk for Tanner today.”

I sigh. First day and I’m a courtesy clerk? Bagging groceries and helping people carry them to their cars? Is that the best my mom can do for me?

“Who’s Tanner?” I ask.

“He’s about a year and a half older than you. I think you guys will get along well. That is, of course, if you don’t have this attitude with him.”

I roll my eyes. Great. I’m stuck working with annoying teenage boy for the day.

The door creaks open behind me to reveal a boy who looks around my age with slicked back chestnut-colored hair, vibrant green eyes, and a cheesy grin on his face, who I presume to be Austin.

“Hey, Mrs. Summers.”

I pick up on the voice right away. He’s gay. There’s no doubt in my mind. The smell of hair gel and overuse of cologne wafts through my nose as he steps closer.