Just a Girl - Becky Monson Page 0,32

been looking at Dwayne now look around the room and land squarely on me.

Not from up north. Not a Boston accent. It’s Henry. Henry that I choked on a powdered sugar donut in front of not even a week ago. Henry that kissed me outside my apartment complex the other night. Henry that I just sat across from last night, sharing secrets with. Henry. I’m so confused, I sort of feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience. None of this makes any sense.

From the look in Henry’s eyes, it appears he’s having the same feelings. Which makes more sense because he has no idea why I’m sitting here; I’m supposed to be sanding down the door of a cabinet right now.

I see the second that Henry realizes he’s staring at me. He blinks in rapid succession and turns his head toward Dwayne, who’s been telling him our names and a bit of our history. I don’t even know what Dwayne is saying right now. His words are all muffled to me like I’m swimming underwater.

My ears start to come to when I hear Henry say, “Thank you,” in his baritone British voice. “I’m looking forward to getting to know . . . all . . . all of you.” He stumbles over his words, clearly flustered.

I see Jerry looking at me in my peripheral vision. He nudges me with his elbow. “Why do you look like you’re about to puke?” he whispers in my ear.

I shake my head slowly, imperceptibly, my eyes unable to move away from Henry, my brain unable to make sense of anything. I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten how to blink.

Henry is here. At the station. He’s my new boss. I don’t understand.

“I’m sure you all have a lot of questions. I know . . . I do,” Henry says. His eyes move briefly to mine and then blink again. He looks away from me. “I’m . . . uh . . . excited to be working for KCFL. This was an unexpected change for all of us. But I’m looking forward to getting to know each of you. And . . . well, I s’pose that’s all for now.” He smiles nervously and reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

“Okay,” Dwayne says. “We can fill you in more after you’re done with midday. Jerry, make sure you set up time for everyone to meet with Henry separately.”

Jerry nods, and we file out of the meeting room. My mind is whirling, I have so many questions. And I need answers. I’m supposed to do the news in less than half an hour and I don’t even have time to get my bearings—to make sense of everything. How could either of us not have pieced any of this together before? I know Henry had a contract, and I . . . well I had my reasons. But . . . how?

“Uh, before you go,” Henry says just as I’m about to exit the room. “Can I have a word with, uh . . . Quinn?” He gestures toward me with his hand as if he were guessing my name, as if he doesn’t know me.

Jerry cusses under his breath. “Uh-oh,” he says in my ear.

I know what Jerry’s thinking. He thinks Henry has already seen my viral video and wants to talk to me about it. He thinks I’m in trouble. I am in trouble. But not for that. For a whole other reason.

Dwayne leaves the room with everyone else, probably thinking the same thing as Jerry. Henry shuts the door before turning toward me, his expression a mixture of emotions.

“Help me out here, Quinn,” he says after a few awkward seconds of staring at each other. “I’m quite confused.”

“As am I,” I finally say. My voice is scratchy as if I haven’t used it in a while. I think it’s because I’ve been slack jawed since I entered this room. I’m not sure if I’ve even swallowed in the past however many minutes.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

“I—” I stop and let out a breath. “I work here.”

He cocks his head to the side, his mouth a flat line. “Obviously. I . . . I just don’t understand how.”

“I work here,” I repeat myself, unable to come up with anything else to say.

“You told me you restored furniture.”

I swallow. “I also do that. I just do this . . . uh . . . as well.”

“When were you going to tell me?

I look down