CHAPTER TEN
Chelsea
“Derek, I didn’t hear the answer. Was Chelsea late this morning?” My dad peered at Derek. He had a Styrofoam cup of coffee in his hand.
I tied the apron behind my waist and waited for the truth to be revealed. Of course I wasn’t on time. I was never on time. It was 5:45 in the fucking morning.
Derek gripped the broom handle tightly. His knuckles were white where they should have been flesh-colored.
“Dad, stop. Just stop.” I couldn’t stand the torture anymore.
He looked down the brim of his nose at me. “I was speaking to Derek.”
“Right, but he doesn’t need to answer for me. I was late, ok? I was not here at five thirty. Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Derek swept a path near the employee hallway.
“That fifteen minutes is coming out of your check or you’re staying late today.” Hayden Davis stood and observed the morning routine in his store, like he was a king. My dad was the farthest thing from a king.
“Whatever.” I huffed my way to the register. I watched him sip on the coffee. I wished it would burn his tongue.
“We can talk about this later, Chelsea. Derek doesn’t need to hear your tantrums.”
I clenched my fists as I popped open the register to count the till for the morning. He was condescending, insulting, patronizing, and my father. I would do anything to try to get through each encounter.
For the most part, I avoided him. If he walked in the front door, I walked out the back. If he needed help in the coolers, I raced to the kayak stand on the docks. If inventory in the storage room needed to be counted, I volunteered to run the register at the front. I calculated every way possible that I could be in the same store but not within earshot or sight of him.
Despite his failure to acknowledge I wasn’t ten years old anymore, there was a time when I loved being around my father. We used to close the store together, grab ice cream, and plot how we could get Mom to stop making that awful crab casserole. Or on slick days we would take the clam rakes out to the cove and load up the boat with a fresh haul. Days at the store and on the docks were a part of my life—a part of being Chelsea Davis.
But, three months ago, everything changed.
I heard it. I heard every scream and rhythmic thump. I heard a woman call out my father’s name. Then I saw Eileen Meeks leave my father’s office—hair in a rat’s nest, blouse half-buttoned, and her cheeks redder than Hester Prynne’s scarlet letter.
I panicked. Ran. Threw up in the women’s bathroom. I clung to the toilet until the heaving stopped. No one knew I was there, and Eileen hadn’t spotted me on her way out of the office. When I was certain I could stand without shaking so much, I washed my face and sprinted out of the ladies’ room and right into Derek.
“Chelsea? Did you hear me?” My father hadn’t moved from his spot.
“Yes, I heard you. I’m trying to count the register.” The quicker I started working, the quicker he might actually leave me alone.
“All right.” He sighed. “I’m headed to my office for the morning. I’ve got reports to run.”
I rolled my eyes as I counted out a stack of ones. I had forgotten it was Monday, and that meant my father would be in the store for the first part of the day. It was really the only time during the week when I had to interact with him.
“Have a nice day, sir,” Derek called from the corner of the store.
Once my father turned the corner, I couldn’t hold back. “Seriously, Der. Have a nice day? What is wrong with you?” I hissed.
“He’s my boss, Chelsea. Or do you still think the world revolves around you? Just because you hate him, doesn’t mean I have to.” He reached down with the dustpan and scooped up a pile of yesterday’s dirt.
I rushed from the register to face him. “What did you say?” This morning was progressively getting worse.
He straightened his stance, brushing the hair off his forehead. “Just leave it alone. We’ve got work to do.”
“Work? You think I can work with you glaring at me every chance you get? Now you’re teaming up with my dad like you two are best buddies? You know what he did—what he’s doing. You are the only person I’ve ever told.” I sucked in a big breath of air. “This isn’t work. This is torture.”
I walked back to the register as I heard the jingle of the door. The early customers had arrived for their morning coffee and donuts. Quickly, I tallied the money in the drawer and returned it to its slot. Derek had disappeared. Good, I thought. We needed more distance between us.
It was almost impossible to be in the same room with him since our falling out almost two weeks ago. No more smiles, jokes, or flirty banter. It was like the history we had never existed. I knew I destroyed it the minute I let him kiss me. Regret was an awful roommate who had moved in the night I kicked Derek out, and like terrible roommates, it made everything messy and awkward.