Costars (New York City Bad Boy Romance) (75 page)

Okay,
so I’m no Shakespearean actor. What of it?

The
scenario goes on, but Jessica doesn’t bring up anything that is conceivably
outside a cashier’s ability to handle, so not only does it go on, it goes on
and on and on.

Cheryl’s
standing there, waiting for any sign that it’s time for her to jump in, but
Jessica, despite going through a whole imaginary shopping bag of faulty
merchandise, doesn’t provide anything to dispute.

“That
was great,” Jessica says out of nowhere.

“I’m
sorry,” Cheryl says. “I don’t know what I was supposed to do there.”

“That’s
all right,” Jessica says. “Sometimes it’s best to know when not to jump in, and
I think you handled that perfectly.”

I
turn my head so Jessica doesn’t see my face contorting in numerous unspeakable
ways in order to prevent the laugh that’s doing everything it can to come out
of me. It’s not the perfect cover, though, because Cheryl sees what’s going on
and she’s less successful hiding her own smile.

“Did
I miss something?” Jessica asks.

I
bite the inside of my cheek to give myself enough self-control to turn back
with a straight face and answer, “Not at all. I, for one, am just excited to
see Cheryl taking to the training so well.”

Whether
it’s my deadpan delivery or the ridiculousness of my explanation doesn’t really
matter, because Cheryl is now covering her mouth, her body convulsing with
stifled laughter.

“Jessica,”
I say, trying to draw attention away from Cheryl, “I was wondering if it might
be a good idea to go over the nightly money drop with Cheryl.”

“That’s
a good idea,” Jessica says in a stilted professional voice.

The
distraction is, thankfully, enough for Cheryl to compose herself, but Jessica
is so adorably new to this that it’s difficult for either Cheryl or me to keep
a serious expression.

It’s
not Jessica’s fault. It’s really not.

Yeah,
she probably should have done this a few years ago, but this is new to her as
well and the last thing I want to do is make her feel self-conscious about it.

That
said, when Jessica tells Cheryl to separate out all the cash and coinage by
denomination and then goes on to give the long list of possible bills and
coins—including a brief interlude regarding what to do with foreign currency—I
have to turn away again to hide my smile.

Sadly,
although Jessica can’t see me, Cheryl can and the renewal of my unintentional
mirth at Jessica’s micromanaging currency to the point of giving different
kinds of bills nicknames by region, Cheryl lets loose with a single burst.

She
quickly covers her mouth and manages to stifle anything else and that would
probably be that if Jessica hadn’t just turned toward me to see what was so
funny and find me biting on my finger to keep my own reaction in check.

“What
is going on?” she asks.

“Nothing,”
I tell her. “I was just standing here and I kind of lost my balance. I’m sorry.
Maybe we should move on to disputes between employees.”

I
know I’m busted because there’s a little vein in Jessica’s forehead that
becomes not so little when she’s upset. It’s a vein I’ve seen before many
times.

Luckily
for me, though, Jessica turns back toward Cheryl and we move on.

As
we’re talking through what kind of dispute we’re going to have, Jessica asks
me, “Okay, I don’t know what’s going on, but could you do me a favor and just
be a professional for a little longer?”

“Absolutely,”
I tell her.

“Okay,”
Jessica says and takes a breath. “Should we cover sexual harassment?”

“I
think we better,” I tell her.

“Okay,”
she says, “I’ll harass you.”

Without
any input from my conscious mind, my eyes go wide, my mouth curls up and I
snort.

“
What
?” she asks.

“I’m
sorry,” I tell her. “It’s just the way you said that.”

I
would go on to tell her that I’m wondering if anyone’s ever actually said that
combination of words before, but she’s giving me the evil eye now, so I keep
that information to myself.

“All
right,” Jessica says. “We’re going to act out one of the more serious things
you may face as an assistant store manager: sexual harassment. Let’s do one run
where you step in in whatever way you think appropriate and we’ll go over any
areas that might need some sort of attention.”

“Sounds
good,” Cheryl answers.

“All
right,” Jessica says quietly to me. “I’m going to stand here and act like I’m
going through inventory. You walk by and I’ll say something to you.”

“You
got it, boss,” I answer and I take a few steps back.

“And
go,” Jessica says.

I
start walking.

As
I get close, Jessica looks up at me and then down at my crotch and says, “Hey,
man. Nice dick.”

I
don’t want to laugh at her. I really don’t.

Jessica’s
trying so hard and it is so endearing. She’s new to this, and I know how
important this is to her.

That
said, I just walked by her and looking at my crotch, she actually said, “Hey
man. Nice dick.”

There’s
nothing I can do about it. It’s out of my hands.

After
all, I’m only human.

I
bend forward, gasping for air as I can feel my eyes filling with tears and my
face going red.

Cheryl’s
hooting somewhere behind me, and I’m trying as hard as I can to get the words,
“I’m sorry” out of my mouth, but it’s just not working properly.

When
I finally manage to stand upright, Jessica’s smiling, but I can tell it’s at
least partially forced.

“I
am so sorry,” I tell her. “I was just not prepared for that.”

“That’s
okay,” Jessica says, still smiling, though her teeth are tightly gritted.
“Let’s just see if we can stay in character and get through this.”

“All
right,” I say, clearing my throat and trying to take slow, even breaths. “I’m
sorry, what did you just say?” I ask.

That
was the stupidest response I could have uttered because that only leaves her
with one option of what to say next.

“I
said you’ve got a nice dick,” she says.

My
lips thin, but I manage to remain quiet.

“I
wish you wouldn’t say that—”

Yeah,
that’s about as much as I can get through before I’m doubled up again.

The
worst part, I know, is that Cheryl’s over there cracking up, too.

No,
sexual harassment is not funny and this is a very, very important thing for a
new manager to know how to deal with, but holy shit.

I
right myself as quickly as possible, but the motion gives me a head rush and I
have to assume a crouching position to make sure I don’t simply faint.

Cheryl
takes this as me being unable to contain myself and so she starts laughing even
harder, even though I’m trying to wave her off as I stand back up again.

I
clear my throat again and I have to look past the hardly-bridled anger on
Jessica’s face so I can calmly respond, “I wish you wouldn’t say that to me. It
makes me feel uncomfortable and I’d like you to stop.”

“Oh,
quit being such a baby,” Jessica says. “You know you can’t walk around in pants
like that and not expect people to notice what you’ve got hanging between your
legs.”

I’ve
managed to put a lid on my own reactions by this point, but Cheryl’s still
having trouble.

To
try to diffuse the situation, or at least give Jessica something else to focus
on for a moment, I lean forward and ask, “Should we have this be a situation
that she observes, or should I approach her with it as a complaint?”

“Approach
her with it as a complaint,” Jessica says, at this point just wanting the
roleplay to be over.

I
feel absolutely terrible, but it’s hard not to smile as I turn to see Cheryl
standing there with tears streaming down her red face as her shoulders jerk
forward and back.

“
Mrs
…” I start, but turn back toward Jessica as I don’t know
Cheryl’s last name.

“Masters,”
Jessica whispers to me.

“Mrs.
Masters,” I start again, turning back toward Cheryl. “Something’s been going on
and it’s making me very uncomfortable.”

Cheryl
takes a deep breath, but can’t quite manage to ditch the smile as she asks,
“What’s going on, Mr. Dawson?”

“It’s
Jessica,” I tell her, doing everything within my power to portray an air of
someone who’s really bothered by the situation as again, this
is
a very serious thing. “She’s been
making inappropriate comments toward me. I’ve asked her to stop, but she won’t
listen to me.”

Cheryl
leans toward me and asks, “When I call Jessica over to talk, am I supposed to
keep you in the room as a witness, or do I talk to her alone?”

“Personally,
I’d suggest talking to her alone so the victim’s not on the spot,” I answer.
“This sort of thing always requires some sort of action, whether it’s an
investigation or firing the offender, so it’s good to talk to both parties
alone, especially at first. Depending on how far the investigation goes, you
may or may not need to have them in the same room at the same time.”

“What
do you mean ‘how far the investigation goes?
’”
Cheryl
asks.

“Sometimes,”
I tell her, “it’s immediately apparent that the complaint has merit and, in
that case, it may be appropriate to simply fire the offender on the spot. In
other cases, it might not be so clear-cut, but you always, always investigate
and if you have any trouble getting to the bottom of the situation, don’t be
afraid to talk to Jessica—I mean as your store manager, not as her role in this
scenario—if you’re not sure how to approach it. With some kinds of harassment,
you’ll even need to call the police.”

We
go on for a few more minutes until all of Cheryl’s questions are answered, and
then we get back into character.

The
rest of the scenario plays out and Cheryl does an outstanding job. When Jessica
enters Cheryl’s “office,” she’s unrepentant and, the case being cut-and-dried,
Cheryl fires the employee.

Despite
a rocky start, the next couple of situations go off without a hitch and we
finally come to a logical stopping place for the day.

Jessica
invites Cheryl to join us for lunch and we all go out and have a pleasant
enough time.

That
all changes, though, as soon as the store’s locked up, Cheryl’s on her own way
and I’m back in the car with Jessica.

“What
the fuck was that?” she asks.

“I’m
sorry about laughing,” I tell her. “You just really caught me off-guard with
the whole ‘Hey man, nice dick’ thing.”

“Do
you have any idea how serious sexual harassment is?” she asks. “Of course you
don’t, you’re a construction guy with a team of construction workers. Sexual
harassment is what your people do.”

“You
know, I’m pretty sure
that
was sexual
harassment,” I tell her.

“And
I thought we were going to have her run through the thing without any help that
first time. You completely undercut my authority all morning,” she accuses.

“Whoa,”
I start. “I’m not saying I did a perfect job all around, but I was
not
trying to undercut your authority at
all. She asked me a question—a good question, I might add—and I gave her some
direction. As sexual harassment
is
such a serious thing, I think it’s best to know as much about what to do as
possible. I would actually suggest springing for a course for your employees,
or at least Cheryl as a manager, on sexual harassment and what to do when or if
it happens.”

“This
is why I hate doing this,” she says. “I’m no good at it and I just come off
like an idiot. Meanwhile, the meathead steals the show and comes off like he
should be running things instead of me.”

“Meathead?”
I ask. “Seriously? I get that you’re upset, but I don’t see how insulting my
intelligence is going to make anything better.”

“Never
mind,” she says. “I’ll just take you home.”

This—whatever
this is between Jessica and me—is going to be more difficult to navigate than I
thought.

“I
thought we were all going to go to lunch,” I tell her.

“Well,
Cheryl’s already gone and I’m pissed at you. I don’t really see the point right
now,” she answers.

I
know better than to put the words “calm” and “down” anywhere near each other
right now, but given this particular situation, I’m finding it extremely
difficult.

“I’m
sorry if I overstepped my bounds, and I certainly wasn’t trying to undercut you
in any way. I really do apologize for the way I acted at the beginning of that
role play and during the whole currency thing,” I tell her. “If it’ll help at
all—”

“The
currency thing?” she asks. “What are you talking about?”