Page 7 of Step By Step

Together, we open several more boxes of merchandise. In between chatting about the exciting new items, we check out customers, put out all the new stuff, and talk about music. I get to add a few songs to the playlist that is always playing, which makes me feel pretty dang cool,

“I told him you were going to be a perfect hire. Would you tell me why you don’t want to go to the show with me? Was it because of that jagoff? He made you nervous by asking you out?”

Heat hits my cheeks as I organize some records out on the floor. Tina sits atop the counter, her legs crossed as she fusses with her mismatched neon socks. Clearing my throat of the block I feel there when she mentions Jordan again, I shake my head.

“He was not asking me out. Not really. Hot Dog on a Stick? And, I mean, I would think he totally talks to all girls that way. He’s a hotshot DJ at the hottest station in town. I guess I figured he is a player.”

Tina laughs, the snorting laugh of hers that makes me laugh too. Shaking her head, she pulls at the strings on her tattered acid wash jeans. “No way. Jordan is no player. All that boy can play is records. I said it before, he does not know how good looking he is. I mean, I get it, he’s a total babe, for sure. I have known him since we were kids, so I never swooned over him. He’s never even been serious with a girl.”

“Seriously? Surely after he became famous...” I trail off as she snorts so loud, she startles me, my eyes flying to check that the laugh did not cause her any bodily harm. In fact, she is bent over, slapping the counter.

“Famous? Dude, no way. He’s not famous. He doesn’t think he’s famous. People who know him, yeah, sure, they think he is a little famous, so a lot of them want shit from him. Which means his luck with girls is even worse now. I mean, how does he know who wants him because he’s a sweet guy and a total babe, or because he can get them concert tickets?”

“Ouch, that’s a major bummer. But I mean, he was just being nice to me because I am the new girl. I saw it for what it was for.”

“Dude,” Tina kicks her legs off the counter, sliding down. Coming closer, she glances around as if about to share a secret. “He touched you. I am a toucher, a hugger, a high fiver. Henevertouches anyone, besides allowing me a few hugs he can hardly stand. He touched you the second he had an excuse to. He was not being nice, Jenna. He digs you.”

Startled by her confession, I think back to the moments we had earlier. Hedidtouch me. More than once. He took hold of my wrist to pull me closer. Clumsy me almost fell flat on my face, I was so shocked by his warm hand wrapping around my wrist. Jordan touched me again, his hands on my hips. He pulled me closer, and I touched him too.

“Why... I mean, you totally don’t have to tell me, I get it. But...do you know why he doesn’t touch anyone?”

Tina sobers, nodding her head as she kicks at the carpet with her faded Chucks. I feel something twist in my chest. I know whatever she is about to tell me will be sad. And I suddenly remember him writing his number on my hand and wishing I had realized how big a deal his touch was.

“He lost his parents a few years ago. He takes care of his sister, Josie. Losing them...it kind of made her cold. Gothic or whatever. She draws dark shit, listens to dark metal, she is super shut down. They were the most affectionate family—thank them for all my hugs—and now they just...it’s almost as if touching upsets them somehow. He never touches anyone the way I saw him touch you today. Look, no pressure. Just let me watch any romance the way grandma’s watch their stories on One Life to Live.”

Laughing with her, I go back to setting out stock, organizing records, or talking with customers. It might be my first day, but this is the perfect place for me. I can talk about what I love, I can suggest new artists to people, and I can support local bands, my best friends’ included.

As things slow down as night falls, I think more and more of Jordan. He said before he would be here all night setting up. I wonder if I could go check out the stage setup? Give me some more time with the handsome DJ.

“Want an Orange Julius, Tina? I am dying for one,” I declare breezily as I glance out the big windows with the band posters.

“Dude, totally! That would be divine. You can take as long as you need, just get the drink last, I need it icy cold girlfriend.”

Nodding at her with a smile, I tug at my hair, fussing to fix the mess of curls. I piled it atop my head out of frustration before I came to work. Now I am wondering if Jordan might like it down, so as I had that way, rolling my eyes at such foolish thoughts, I pull it from its messy topknot.

I am passing the theater when I realize what Tina said. She knew I was going to wander past the stage set up. Take as much time as I need. That cute little ball of good vibes is all for me flirting with her hot DJ friend.

As I pass the brightly lit stores, weaving through the late-night mall crowd, I am smiling big. I am having a good time. I really like being at the record store, talking about what I love most. And I think Tina is an absolute blast. I could see us becoming good friends.

Working at a mall after I finished my degree was the lastthingI thought I would be doing. Pausing at the window front of Thingsville, I watch the gadgets twirling or spinning as I consider what I want to do. Seeing my reflection looking back at me, I smile again.

This is what I want to do—for once, I want to have a good time.

Rounding the corner—and passing Orange Julius—I almost skid to a stop. My Reebok’s even slide on the shining floors. There is the stage, taking up most of center court. Ropes surround it to keep the crowds at bay.

For a little mall show, it looks pretty outstanding. It even has a small catwalk, just a few feet long, for the band to walk out towards the crowd that will circle the stage. Their bright white logo pops against the black backdrop. Four microphones, a keyboard, two guitar stands, and drum set fill up the stage.

“Changed your mind?” Jordan calls from his perch at center stage, his hands splaying out to the surrounding grandeur.

Chuckling, I shake my head. “No, DJ. I am parched, in dire need of an Orange Julius. Just heard all the racket you were making here.”

Jordan smiles big, and man, when he turns it on, whew. Coming down from the stage, he unhooks a velvet rope and beckons me forward. I have been on stage a hundred times, setting up for Donna and the band. And that unfortunate tambourine incident. Somehow this feels special, so I go to the stage, cutting through a gap in the heavy gates.

“Here, take my hand,” he offers, reminding me again that he seems inclined to touch me but no one else. I glance up at him, sliding my hand into his. This time, I don’t pretend not to feel the electricity that shoots through me as his fingers wrap around mine.

“Thank you, such a gentleman,” I tease, as he closes the velvet rope behind us.

“Only for you, milady,” he shoots back with a wink.

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