The New Manager Ch. 01: Opening

I only caught a glimpse of him as he walked off deeper into the store. My coworker pointed him out as we were both entering at the start of the day.

"Matthew, I think his name was." She said, clocking in using a small touch-screen attached to the wall. "I haven't properly met him, but some of the ladies are saying he's not great."

I just nodded, clocking in as well.

"I think they are just bitter that he got the job over them," she continued.

"Yeah, but he hasn't even worked in retail before, let alone worked with the company, so I can understand why they would be like that," I said. We both turned around and started to walk to the back of the store, towards the locker room.

The store was still pretty dark, with all the lights not coming on until 15 minutes before open, but I preferred it this way. It was quiet, almost relaxing. We interweaved between all of the rails and shelving, all the tables and counters, to make our way to the back. It must have been just us and a few of the other managers in already.

"I think they are just bitter old ladies. They wouldn't be able to be a manager anyway, they can barely manage themselves," my coworker finally replied. I snorted a laugh, she's not wrong. "But it is weird that they already had him lined up and ready to go by the time Emily left."

"That was sudden wasn't it?" I said, a little bit too loud. "I was only talking to Emily, like, two weeks ago, about moving some of the departments around, she would've put her notice in on that day."

"And Matthew was here the day she was leaving, like she had already overstayed her welcome."

We both fell silent as we entered the locker room, just past the bathrooms. As expected, we were the only ones there. My coworker shoved a door stop under the open door for the rest of the staff once they arrived, so they didn't have to keep opening the door for each other. The locker room had lockers lining all the walls and two rows of lockers in the middle, splitting the room into two parts. I walk to my locker in the back section of the locker room, and shove my bag and jacket in. I grab my name badge from inside the locker door and attach it to the right-hand side of my black shirt.

"Maybe they always planned the bring in another manager, you know, we have been getting busier," I called out over the lockers.

"Maybe..." She walked around the lockers to my side of the room, "Guess we'll never know. I've gotta run upstairs to do some stock, but I'll see you for lunch?"

"Okay! Have fun, call if you need anything." I say as she runs off, out the room.

I partially close my locker door and walked to the full length mirror in the back corner of the room. It had been raining outside and I wanted to check I didn't look like a mess. The hair was fine, but my shirt had become all twisted where I tucked it into my pants. I could see that I had also scuffed my shoes, but thats something I couldn't really fix right now.

I unbuckled my belt and undid the button and fly of my black trousers, it's a compromising look to say the least. I held onto the waistband of my pants with one hand and started to re-tuck my shirt in with the other, untwisting the fabric and laying it flat against the top of my thighs, a bit past the waistband of my underwear. As I'm finishing up, a figure appeared in the mirror.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," the voice said. It was a man's voice, a bit deeper than my own.

In a fluster, I did up my trousers button and tightened my belt again.

"No no, I'm sorry, I was just re-tucking my shirt." I replied, turning around to face him.

I don't recognise his face at first, but I realised why pretty quickly:

"Matthew, isn't it?" I say, standing up a bit straighter. He was quite striking, a touch taller than me, with short cut dark hair. I could see a few wisps of grey hair, but that could've also been the lighting. He had darker olive skin, and short stubble that framed his face well. His teeth were straight and white, and he had full and soft-looking lips. His eyes were what drew me; a deep ocean blue, laugh lines naturally creasing and softening the skin around them. As I said, he was quite handsome. He's wearing all black, like me, his button-up hugging his body quite tightly. I probably would've given him a size up... but then again, maybe not. He's clearly got the build to pull off a fitted shirt like this, may as well flaunt it.

"Yeah that's right, I don't believe we've met." He strides across the room in only a few steps, his hand shooting out from his side. "I'm one of the new managers."

I take his hand, "Blake, nice to finally meet you." His hand completely envelopes my hand so it is tightly bound as we shake hands. After only a second of hand shaking, he lets go and I drop my hand to my side. I can feel it pulsing back to life, and the numbness starting to subside.

"So you're the famous 'Blake' that I keep hearing about, I heard you run quite a solid team in the formals department."

"Famous? Hardly," I laugh awkwardly. "I guess I like to keep a tight ship without being too much of killjoy."

"I think that's a great attitude to have, and just by looking at the figures, it's clearly working." Matthew takes a couple steps, stopping at one of the lockers, and unlocks it. "It took the other managers three days to tell me that I can keep my bag at my desk in the office, instead of in a locker like everyone else."

He starts to remove his belongings from the locker, a worn leather satchel and a coat, and slams it shut. In the split second it took for him to close his locker, I noticed the hand that closed it - his left hand - was wearing a ring. It's a very simple ring, silver with no apparent stones, engravings, or shaping. It looked quite old, a family heirloom perhaps?

"No big deal," he continued, "at least there's one more free locker now. Anyway, I'll let you go, you've probably got a few things to do before we open. Let me know if you need anything from me... well, if we're being honest, it'll most likely be me needing help from you." He laughs, and steps towards me again with his hand out. "Pleasure to meet you."

"And you as well," I say. I take his hand, wincing as I prepare for all the bones in my hand to be crushed, but this hand shake is not like the first one. My hand seems to slot into his like a key to a lock. His hand supports mine with the most delicate of touches, and I can actually feel the warmth coming from his surprisingly soft skin. I've never been touched like this before. It feels like I could breathe out all the air in my lungs - forcing myself to sink into the depths of my chest to look for any remaining air, until I reside in the crushing pull of imminent death - knowing for certain that I will breathe in again. It feels like I could keep my hand in his forever, in fact it feels correct for my hand to be in his.

He finally lets go of my hand, my hand numb once again but for a different reason. He steps back to leave.

"Your fly is undone, by the way," he remarks.

My head whips down to my crotch and I see the zip of my pants is completely open, basically gaping.

"Oh shit!" I spin around so he doesn't see me zip it back up, as though we haven't just had an entire conversation with it down.

"It's fine! Happens to the best of us. See you around!" He laughs as he leaves the room.

My back is still to where he was standing, and I can feel how hot my face has become. Some first impression. At least the fly was just open with nothing hanging out of it, that would have been monumentally disastrous. I check myself in the mirror again. My face is still red and I've started sweating on my brow, but everything else seems fine.

I don't know what happened to me when he held my hand. It's like it's never been held before. Like sure, he's attractive, but that felt different. That didn't feel like an initial attraction, or the startings of a crush or... or... I don't know what that was. And when did he notice my fly was undone? Did he only just notice at the last minute? But if he did notice last minute, why would he be looking down at...? No, that's a dumb assumption, surely he noticed straight away... But why wouldn't he tell me straight away? He clearly isn't too shy not to tell me at all, why wait?

I can feel my face burning up again, so I start to fan it with my hands in an attempt to cool it down. I slam my locker door shut, take one last glance in the mirror, and leave the locker room.