Panic in Aisle Five

"Yes. She gets lonely sometimes." Jordan sighed. "My Dad passed a few years ago."

"I'm sorry."

"Thanks. Mom stays busy. She's a natural in the office. She has friends and does stuff with them but I know she misses Dad. Having Jaylen is just another blessing because he's her only grandchild." He lowered his eyes. "The way things are going, she'll probably be his only one."

Cherise licked her lips. "I doubt that. You're still young. You're a business owner and not too hard on the eyes. I bet you're beating women back with a stick."

"It's not them. It's me. After Latanya, I've had a hard time trusting any women. Mom has tried to get me to get back out there but it just doesn't feel right yet."

Cherise sighed and stared at the wall. That's as clear a sign as I'm going to get. This is hopeless. Jordan's question disturbed her from her musing. "Sorry?"

"I said, are you close with your folks?"

"I am," she said, smiling. "They and my two brothers live up in Green Bay. Dad was the head groundskeeper at Lambeau Field."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he started as a janitor, got on the grounds crew, and worked his way up. He was in charge for about eight years. He and Mom invested well and travel a lot now that he's retired. My older brother works in the PR section of the head office. The younger one is a bank manager."

Jordan nodded. "Did you ever get to meet any of the players?"

"Here and there but only in passing. Dad has a picture of himself when he was younger, with Reggie White and Bart Starr, hanging over the mantle. He loved being part of the organization, though. I guess it goes without saying that he and Mom are Packers fans through and through."

Her boss chuckled. "Yeah, like most of the rest of the state. My dad's love was basketball, not football. That's how I got this name. I already had the last name that fit." At her blank look, he added, "As in Karl Malone."

"Sorry, I'm not up on the NBA."

"That's fine. From what I hear, when I was born Dad floated 'LeBron' as a first name and Mom shot that down hard. 'Jordan' is still a good homage, for obvious reasons."

Cherise laughed. "Yes, I get that one."

They finished their lunch. Cherise packed away her empty containers. "Now what?"

"We need to wipe down those high shelves." Jordan gestured. His voice turned playful. "You up to climbing a ladder?"

Her leg twinged at the thought but she said, "All right, let's do it."

Intellectually, Cherise knew her feet were only five feet off the ground but with her own five-foot-four height, being perched on the stepladder gave her the illusion of being much higher. She'd never been afraid of heights but the tension of toting a bucket and rags while balancing on the narrow metal plank made her good knee tremble.

Just concentrate and get it done.

She did just that, wiping dust and grit from the shelves, limping down the ladder, and moving it to start over. After an hour, her leg hurt but she refused to quit, until the decision was taken out of her hands.

Cherise had just shifted the ladder to the last position along the wall and started to climb when her gimpy leg gave out. Her knee twinged, then buckled. Pain lanced up her thigh and she pitched backward. Her hand flailed at the ladder but it slipped from her fingers and she tumbled backward. For a split second, Cherise experienced the weightlessness of being airborne, followed by the awful realization of what was about to happen.

Ah, shit.

The impact drove the air from her lungs, followed by a sharp blow on the back of her head. Stars popped before her eyes and her ears rang.

"Cherise!" A concerned face intruded into hers. "Cherise!"

Her voice slurred between stiff lips. "Jordan?"

"Don't move, you hit your head."

"I'm okay." Her disorientation ebbed and her eyes focused. "I can get up."

"Stay still, I'm calling an ambulance."

Stubborn determination pushed aside the remainder of her dizziness. Cherise sat up. "No, that's not necessary. I'm fine. I ..." A deep throbbing ache pulsed through her back. She rolled her shoulders, wincing as she did. "I'm not going to sue you or anything."

Jordan frowned. "You think that's what I'm worried about? You could have a concussion. You could have sprained something. You--" His eyes flicked down and he froze.

Cherise followed his gaze and saw what had drawn her attention. Her right foot had twisted ninety degrees away from her body. "Great."

"Holy shit."

"It's fine, Jordan."

"Fine? Your foot's broken!"

She sighed. "No, it's not."

Cherise reached for her pant cuff and hiked the fabric above her knee. Beyond her sneakers and socks, her leg was a pale yellow, all the way to her knee. She rapped on the shin with her knuckle, producing a hollow tok tok sound. "Bum leg, to just above the knee. I lost it some time ago. The foot's not broken, it's just out of joint. It's fixable but will take me a little time. Until I do, I can still walk on it, just slower. As for the rest--" She shrugged. "--I've got a hard head. Not the first time I've had my chimes rung. I'll be fine."

"But--"

"Please, Jordan."

He tore his eyes from her foot and gave a reluctant nod. "All right. But you're done working for today and tomorrow. You're taking the time off with pay. We'll see how you're doing on Monday."

"You can't finish this on your own."

"That's my problem, and so are you, if you keep working and get hurt. It's not about money or litigation, Cherise." Jordan's gaze was resolute. "I don't want you hurting yourself any worse."

They stared at each other for a moment. As before, Cherise found her soul being pulled deep into his. Her mouth felt dry and a new lightheaded sensation that had nothing to do with her fall filled her mind.

At last, Jordan looked away. He murmured, "If you're not going to the hospital, at least let me drive you home. Don't worry about the job, I'll take care of it. Do you have anyone who can look in on you through the weekend?"

"Uhm, yes my friend Paulette. I'll call her while you're driving. She'll get my car for me."

"Okay. Can I help you up?"

"Yes."

He grasped her hands and hauled her upright without any apparent effort. Cherise marveled at the power of his grip. Jordan helped her limp to his truck. They drove to her apartment. She eyed the steps with trepidation but before she could worry, he exited the truck, opened her door, and offered his hand. Cherise gave him a weak smile. "I can make it."

"Cherise, let me help you up or I'll carry you."

She smirked at him. "You wouldn't dare."

Jordan hesitated and she opened her mouth to say she'd told him so. The words changed to a surprised squeak as he scooped her from the seat in his strong arms and hurried up the stairs. He reached the top of the steps and gingerly set her on her feet by her door. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

"Yes."

"Please give me a call tomorrow to let me know how you're doing, all right?"

"I will." She placed her hands on his chest to steady herself, then flinched and withdrew contact. "Thank you, Jordan."

"Sure."

Cherise hurried inside as fast as her crooked foot would allow.

#

Paulette lowered the wine cooler from her lips. "Damn, girl. You sure know how to make a mess of things."

"Tell me about it."

She wiggled her foot, ignoring the squeak. She'd been able to realign the foot, though something had been thrown out of place, resulting in a slight creak whenever she took a step. Cherise snarled; the noise eliminated any chance of her concealing her disability. She wanted to scream in frustration but it was pointless.

It's not like I can afford another one.

Paulette took another long pull. "Well, look at the bright side."

"What's that?"

"You got groped by a hot guy."

"I beg your pardon," Cherise snapped. "I was not 'groped.' He was a perfect gentleman."

"Hmpf. Too bad."

"I know."

"You could just tell the guy how you feel."

Cherise snorted. "Sure, that'd go over great."

"What do you have to lose?"

"Uh, my job?"

Paulette shook her head in disagreement. She'd grown her hair to a slightly-longer spiky style and dyed the tips purple. Cherise glanced at Paulette's husband Aaron, sitting on the couch beside her. Ostensibly, he was watching a baseball game but Cherise noted that every time Paulette moved, his eyes flicked to her. The moment she finished her wine cooler, he got up and got her another one, all without saying a word. Paulette smiled at him and kissed the back of his hand.

Nobody would look at either Paulette or Aaron twice, Cherise thought. She's overweight, he's balding, they barely have two dimes to rub together. If I'm objective, they're both just average people ... but they have each other and even after twenty years, they're just as happy as when they started. Pangs of jealousy rippled through her. I mean, what do I have? Or who? Nothing, and no one.

She sighed. And I guess that's what I deserve.

Paulette popped the cap from her fresh wine cooler. "He wouldn't fire you."

"I bet he would. Jordan's like the epitome of professionalism. He wouldn't date an employee. Even if he would, now he knows I'm a cripple. No way a guy like that would be interested."

"You need to quit being so hard on yourself."

Cherise didn't answer. She gazed out the window.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen and her trepidation doubled. She stiffened.

Paulette caught Cherise's shift in body language. "Who is it?"

"Jordan just texted me."

"He texted you yesterday too, right?"

Cherise stifled an urge of impatience. "He's just checking on an employee."

Her friend smiled. "If you say so. What did he say today?"

She unlocked her phone and read. "He said, 'Hope you are doing well. Call me if you need anything.' See? Nothing to it."

"I say you call him."

Cherise pocketed her phone. "You're full of it."

"Aaron?" Paulette nudged her husband. "What do you think?"

He shrugged.

An overwhelming urge to leave--to head home and wrap herself in a blanket in her own solitude, to not have to face anything--consumed her. Cherise stood. "I should go."

A look of consternation crossed Paulette's face. She struggled to rise from the couch. "No, don't go. I'll leave it alone."

The lie glided off her lips. "It's not that. I have some laundry and other chores to do and I want to rest up tomorrow before going back to work. We can hang out some more this week if you want."

"Okay." Paulette bit her lip. "Call me tomorrow, okay?"

"I will. Goodbye, Aaron."

He nodded in acknowledgment.

The April afternoon was crisp without being cold. Cherise donned her new windbreaker. She'd only purchased it a week earlier. It had been a long time since she had been able to afford new clothes. Yet another reason I can't risk losing this job.

She entered her car and glanced at Jordan's message again. It read: Are you at home?

Her fingers tapped the screen. I will be in a few minutes but I'm not in the mood for company.

His response was instant. I understand.

Cherise waited but no further messages arrived. She shrugged and drove the four miles to her apartment. She glanced around but after not seeing Jordan's truck, she exited and limped up the steps.

She hadn't been there for five minutes when there was a knock at the door. Cherise gritted her teeth, wondering why he hadn't listened. She stomped to the door and flung it open, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

Instead of Jordan, Cherise was greeted by a young woman a few years younger than her. She wore a red ballcap and polo shirt, and carried a flat insulated bag. On Cherise's sudden appearance, the woman flinched and took a step back. "Uh, hi."

"Hi," Cherise said, nonplussed. "Uhm, can I help you?"

"I have a delivery for Cherise Wilcox." The woman raised her eyebrows.

"That's me but--" Cherise's eyes fell on the logo adorning the woman's shirt and her words died on her lips. "You're from Antonio's?"

"Yeah. I have two large supremes for you."

"I didn't ... I mean ..."

"They're already paid for and--" The young woman dug in a pocket on the top of the bag and pulled free an envelope, which she offered to Cherise. "--the gentleman who ordered asked to have this handed to you along with the delivery."

Cherise took the envelope. "He did?"

"Yes, and I'll be honest: with the size tip he gave, if you hadn't answered, I would have broken in to leave this on your dining room table." She smiled. "If you don't mind me saying so, ma'am, I think you have a keeper there."

She took the two pizzas and gave the woman a distracted goodbye. The heat from the boxes beat at her hands. She flipped one open and a tantalizing aroma--familiar but long denied--assailed her nostrils. With numb fingers, she tore open the envelope. One folded page fell out, which read:

Cherise-

Here's a little something to help speed your healing. One for now and one for later. I hope you don't mind it cold or reheated.

J

She closed the lid, picked up her phone, and typed a text: You didn't have to do that.

Again, the response came in an instant: I know. I wanted to.

Cherise set her phone on the table and stared at the wall for a few moments before the smell got to be too much. She took a deep breath and opened the top box again. I might as well enjoy this while I can.

#

She limped up the steps to work, clutching her lunch bag. Four days on her rear end--two work days she'd been given off, plus the weekend--had left Cherise with a strange sense of restlessness, which she found odd. She'd worked the job at Valor Foods because she needed money and not out of any particular desire. At Malone Custom Cleaning, she found that she actually looked forward to arriving every day. Aside from the better pay, the work was more fulfilling and her peers were happier.

Almost like creating a good work environment with an understanding boss makes for a better job, she thought with a bit of snark. Her thoughts lingered on that concept of "better boss" and she sighed.

Meredith glanced up from Jaylen as she entered. "Morning, dear."

"Hey, Meredith." Cherise stooped to Jaylen's playpen and tickled the little boy under the chin. He cooed and giggled. "How's everything?"

"Good. Jordan told me he wanted to see you."

"He did, did he?"

"Yes, and don't look like you're walking the green mile to your execution. I'm sure it's nothing bad."

"That makes one of us," Cherise muttered. She veered left around Meredith's desk and approached Jordan's office. The office door was open, as it always was. Jordan sat at his desk, on the phone--with a customer, she supposed. He had swiveled toward the window on his right as he conversed but spotted Cherise hovering in the doorway and waved her in.

"That sounds good, Andy. We'll email the contract to you in a few moments." Pause. "Thanks, we appreciate that, I'll pass on the praise to the team. After all, it was all them, not me." Second pause. "All right. Thanks again, we'll be in touch. Bye."

He set the phone down and glanced at Cherise. "Never ends."

"Sounded like a good call."

"Oh, it was. We have a new standing job at the Regent Center, which will tie up a team full-time, which is why I need to hire more." He fiddled with a pen on his desk and stared into space. "Don't get me wrong; having my own gig beats hustling for the man. Still, it's a lot sometimes."

"Uhm, you wanted to see me?"

He blinked and focused on her. "Yeah. I don't want to pry about your leg--"

"Then don't."

"I'm not. But I know you damaged it on the job. I would like to help you get it repaired or replace it, if necessary."

"It's not necessary."

"Cherise, please." He leaned forward, concern written on his face. "It's not a money question. It's about taking care of my employees."

"I ..." She stared at him and her lip started to quiver. The discussion was taking her places she didn't want to go. Cherise blinked away tears and looked at the floor.

Before she knew it, he was next to her. His presence was intimidating and reassuring at the same time. "Hey. I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to upset you."

"It's not you."

"You can talk to me."

Cherise trembled. Her heart ached to do just that. It burned to tell him just how much she was attracted to him, how much she desired to engulf his mouth with hers ...

Instead, she shook her head. Her voice emerged as a whisper. "Can I just go to work?"

Jordan gazed at her for a long moment before giving her a slow nod.

Cherise fled to the worker's waiting room. The only other person in the room was Elayne, her team leader. Cherise found a free seat and collapsed into it, trying to calm her nerves.

"Jenn, Bob, and Alex are changing," Elayne said without looking up from her phone. "They'll be ready to go in just a moment."

"Okay." Cherise always arrived in her work shirt and slacks, since she didn't care if she had to wear dirty clothes home. It also prevented her from having to answer leg questions in the locker room.

"Three private homes today." Elayne's fingers flew on the phone's keypad. "We'll have to move quick to get all three done. Jordan already authorized us overtime."

"Fine."

Elayne finally glanced at Cherise and frowned. "You okay?"

Cherise hesitated, then whispered, "No."

"What is it?"

"Nothing."

An expression of understanding crossed Elayne's face. She hoisted herself to her feet. "We have a few minutes. Walk with me."

They left the break room. Cherise thought she saw a minute nod pass between Elayne and Meredith but couldn't be sure.

Elayne led her out the front door and to the right, where a wooden park-style bench waited. She sat and motioned for Cherise to do the same. She did. The older woman produced a pack of cigarettes, plucked one from the pack with her teeth, and lit it with a match. She blew a white cloud that plumed and rolled in the still air. "I know using matches makes me a throwback but I've always preferred them to lighters."

Cherise waited.

Her team leader took a second puff and exhaled, before swiveling on the bench to face her. Elayne rested her free hand on the back of the bench. "Cherise, why are you killing yourself here?"

"I beg your pardon."

"It doesn't have to be that hard. You're really hot for Jordan."

Cherise had no idea her attraction had been so evident. Heat rose in her cheeks. "I am not." Her words sounded petulant and childlike in her own ears.

Elayne ignored her and took another puff. "Of course you are. Everyone sees it--except for him, of course. It's all your coworkers gossip about when you're not around."

"Uh ..."

"Trust me, I get it. He's a tall, good-looking young man, with his own business. He's no pushover and generous at the same time. He's a good father."

"Elayne, why don't you ask him out?"

"He's way too young for me. I've known Meredith for thirty years. Hell, I changed Jordan's diapers when he was a baby. Kinda hard to be attracted to someone you've seen smeared in poop." She paused. "Unless you're into that kind of thing."

"Eww."

"Don't get off topic, Cherise. You like the guy, which is understandable. I haven't asked Jordan but I get the feeling he likes you too. Yeah, he likes to look after his employees but I've never seen him order pizza for someone before. Beyond that, Meredith and I have both seen the way the guy looks at you. He hasn't shown interest in anyone since Latanya screwed him over. Until now. He's nervous that you might not feel the same way ... but since you do, it's stupid for you to keep walking around and wringing your hands like a pair of angsty teenagers."

Cherise's mouth fell open. She didn't know what to say.