Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

13. Referral Program

13

Referral Program

Andre called me at the start of my next shift. “Nicole. Come here, please.”

I sighed and trudged up the stairs.

He pointed to his computer screen. “Did you recommend Zack Turner?”

“Yes,” I said.

He squinted at the email. “Not a lot of work experience.”

Since when did that matter here? “He’s a no-nonsense ex-quarterback. He’s got lots of muscles, he’s good under pressure, and he doesn’t care about brands, so he won’t skim the Zeezy’s for resale, unlike some other staff,” I said. The thought of touching those stupid shoes was as repulsive to me as the idea of touching my ex-boyfriend.

Andre raised his brows. “Does he have any drawbacks?”

I sucked in a breath and scanned the ceiling. If he’d asked me last week, I would’ve been able to rant off a whole list. Today, all I could say was, “He’s kinda loud, I guess.”

Andre made a noncommittal noise and yanked the phone from its holster. He dialed, then shooed me downstairs with the receiver.

What was the rush? The store wasn’t exactly crawling with customers.

I checked the white board for our major tasks. Swap out display shoes. Fine. Cassandra had added a note: Ni-ni should pick the date-night styles!

Nice. Because that’s what I wanted to focus on right after my breakup. Not that I blamed her for passing the buck. I was the style guru, after all, and she didn’t know about Theo or the Zeezy’s debacle. No matter what happened in my personal life, time marched on, and we had to transition from New Year’s Eve to Valentine’s Day: less sparkle, more sexy straps. Something my clients would drool over.

I snatched a bunch of options for Andre to consider and piled the boxes up to my chin. As I walked across the shoe window, I noticed a broad-shouldered guy in a nice button-down shirt hanging out by the desk, though he hadn’t rung the bell.

“Hey.” His voice carried a weird combination of soft and sharp. “Do you need any help with that?”

“No thanks. I’ll be with you in a…” I gasped and nearly walked right into the desk as the recognition hit. Swerving last-second, I steadied the wobbly stack of boxes. “Zack?”

“Hi. Again.” His lip twitched as he ran a hand through his short, dark hair. “Andre told me to come in at two p.m.”

“He’s interviewing you today?” Not even twenty-four hours after the initial call?

“Yeah.” A flush spread from his neck to his ears. “I didn’t expect him to call me in so fast, so I didn’t get a chance to get a fancy haircut. Do you think it looks okay? I put some spray on it, if that makes a difference.”

No one was going to be looking at his cropped hair. His white button-down shirt strained across the thick muscles of his shoulders. Even his dress pants hugged him tight. Loose shirt tails obscured most of the outline near his zipper, but still, he looked like he was one flex away from bursting all the seams. There was a good chance he wore the same outfit to a school dance, only he would’ve been holding flowers instead of a clipboard. Prom King Zack. I could imagine him reaching out. Can I have this dance?

Real Zack inhaled and looked down. “Is it that bad?”

“No.” I was, though. I snapped my attention to his face and made sure my jaw wasn’t hanging open over a guy in formal wear. “It’s–it’s nice. I’ve never seen you dressed up.”

He fussed with the second button down from his collar. “Yeah, well, I figured I shouldn’t show up to the interview in jeans or you’d be pissed at me.”

“It also might affect your chances of getting the job.” I chuckled. Wasn’t that more important?

He frowned and glanced across the sales floor at a mirror. “Seriously, should I go home and change? Or I could try to find an outfit here.”

“No, you look nice.” Undoing one more button might help with the tightness over his chest, but I didn’t want to risk a flirtation. I set the boxes on the counter and nodded at his clipboard. “Is Andre on your list?”

“What? Oh. I’ve got my resume, a list of questions, and a pen.” He held one up as evidence.

“So prepared. He’ll definitely hire you when he sees that,” I joked.

“Thanks.” He brightened, slipping the pen under the clip.

Did he not catch the sarcasm? All he had to do was be able to lift at least fifty pounds, and seeing as he’d carried me across the bar the other night, that qualification was already met. “I’ll tell him you’re here,” I said.

Zack did this weird mix of a nod and a bow, like some kind of gentleman. Were his head jerks in high school more than general acknowledgment?

I pushed the thought away and jogged up the stairs. “Zack Turner’s here.”

“Great. I’ll be down shortly.” Andre pushed back from the desk and walked to the full-size mirror hanging on the wall. He stroked his tie and raised his chin, inspecting his face at various angles in the bare bones warehouse lighting.

Weird, but okay. I padded down the stairs and went to the shoe window. “He says he’ll be right down.”

“Thanks.” Zack cracked his neck and steeled himself, his knuckles turning white as he clutched the clipboard to his chest. Since when did he worry about anything, let alone warehouse jobs?

“Relax. You’re going to do great. Andre is nothing compared to those two-hundred-pound guys who used to lunge at you every game," I said.

He chuckled and relaxed just enough for color to come back to his fingers. “I’ll try to live up to your recommendation.”

“You better.” I arched my eyebrow and leaned on the counter. Did athletes do better with a challenge?

Someone cleared their throat. “Excuse me. Are you in line?”

Zack jerked left, revealing a short customer behind him. “Oh, no. Sorry. Go ahead,” he said.

I straightened my spine. “What do you need?”

Shorty handed me a shoe. “Eight and eight and a half. Can you also see if it comes in black?”

“Sure.” I darted to the back and scanned for the matching model numbers until I got the shoes. On my way toward the window, my phone blinked with a notification. Had Zack texted me on his way in? I peeked at my messages.

Theo: Who the hell was in that NYE video?

Fury shot through my veins. The entitlement of this man.

Me: None of your damned business.

Theo: How long had you been seeing him???

Me: I’m not the one who was sneaking around with ‘old friends!’

Technically, Zack wasn’t even a friend. He was an old acquaintance who wouldn’t be ‘forgotten’ per that stupid New Year’s Eve song, “Old Lang’s Eye” or whatever it was called. We only reconnected because of his job and mine, if shopping with his cousin counted.

Theo tried to video chat me. Unbelievable. He knew I was at work. I stormed to the shoe window and dropped off the customer’s shoes.

“Did they come in black?” Shorty asked.

“No,” I said flatly. If they had, I would’ve brought them. Just like I wouldn’t have dated Theo if I knew what a self-centered leech he’d been.

The customer gathered their shoes and walked off. Zack eyed me, standing sentinel by the side of the desk as the next customer walked up. I had to keep working. It was a nice distraction. By the third customer, Andre still hadn’t come down, and Zack was shifting his weight on his feet. His nerves were building on my own, so I thundered upstairs. Andre smoothed his suit jacket and sipped from his flask, transfixed by his reflection.

“He’s still waiting,” I snapped.

Andre jumped. “Right, sorry.” He took a swig of mouthwash and swallowed it. Nasty man. He followed me down the stairs, then thrust out his hand and smiled. “I’m Andre. You must be Zack.”

“Yes. Nice to meet you, sir.” He gave him a firm handshake and let out an almost imperceptibly shaky breath. Nerves. He seemed to shove them down quick enough while I helped the next customer.

I grabbed the requested shoe and headed to the back. My blinking phone was like a silent alarm raging in the back of my head. Where did Theo get off messaging me like that? As if I cheated on him. Was it to make himself feel better about what he did with Bigfoot? Well, maybe he’d feel a smidgeon of the burning humiliation I did.

I marched from one shoe section to the next, helping customers while Andre conducted the interview with Zack. I’d catch glimpses of them in the stacks. He was explaining the whole inventory system in a mini orientation and introduced him to another manager. That boded well for the interview process. Andre would probably hire him.

My gut twisted. Did I really want to be around him on the regular? Warehouse employees didn’t have to wear the bright green tees. I’d probably have to put more makeup on and stop lurking in the back to text at risk of him tattling on me. But I did get him this job. He’d probably be nice to me. Maybe we could come to some kind of understanding.

The bell dinged.

“Coming.” I shoveled a few more sizes in the sorting shelf and strode out to the shoe window.

A familiar figure skulked from behind the desk. “We need to talk, Nikki.”

My heart throbbed in my throat. At least he didn’t call me ‘baby.’