Three's a Crowd Pt. 01

At one point, I had been showing her how to refill the milkshake machine. When it was her turn, I had looked down and said, "Okay, you try it now."

She had poured herself a strawberry milkshake, sat down and then drank it instead.

"That's not exactly what I meant when I said try it," I had said, feeling slightly annoyed, even though I already had a blooming crush on her. There had been so many other tasks to get through in her induction, and Jasmine had been dragging them out all morning. "We all need to know how everything works. If there's a hole in the team it'll all fall apart."

"I'm the taste-tester," she had said, without a hint of irony.

"You're the taste-tester," I had repeated in disbelief, unsure how to make a joke of out it.

"Plus, I'm tired," she had said while stretching her legs out, the soles of those black shoes pointing directly at me. I had noticed there was some flower trapped into the grooves of the tread. She tossed the almost-full milkshake into the trash, then had taken a stick of gum from her pocket and stuffed it between her lips. "You've been dragging me around all morning."

I had thought about educating her on how we had to manage waste, and couldn't just take the hit of a milkshake every time she felt like it. That, on top of the fact that gum was a big no-no. It was unprofessional and unsightly to see our employees smacking gum, especially around food. However, with her legs still out crossed, she had seemed the vision of relaxation, and that had ignited something inside me. If it had been a boy saying those things, I would have probably already told him to sling his hook. However, because it had been a pretty girl like Jasmine, I had wanted to see just how entitled she really was. I mean, I had already known she had the looks of a top-level girl, but I had become increasingly excited as I realised that her personality fit the bill too. "Well, that is part of the job," I had said in jest. "This is hard work."

"I hate hard work," she had whined. "I didn't even want this stupid job. My daddy said I had to get it or he was going to kick me out."

"Oh, well, I'm sorry--"

"So, like, when do we get paid?" she had asked, while twirling a strand of hair between her fingers and loudly smacking gum in her mouth.

I had cleared my throat, attempting to be patient with her rude attitude, though secretly enjoying every second of it. There had been other staff within earshot though, and I hadn't wanted them to think I had a thing for at that early stage. "Pay is every Friday, a week in leu, so you'll be getting your first payslip the week after next."

Jasmine's mouth had parted slightly, revealing the gum squished into her teeth. "What? That's like so far away."

"Well, you haven't even done any work yet, so I think maybe worry about that later, yes?"

The rest of the induction had followed suit. Jasmine being shown how to do something, then complaining about how much work it was. Yet, that was only a taster. I had found out on her first real day, that Jasmine was both lazy and incompetent when it came to actual work. She had frequently screwed up orders and her customer service was abysmal. She had flirted with at least three guys when she was supposed to be taking orders, and during lunch time the queue had been out to the door. Instead of mucking in and trying to clear it, she had been helping herself to soda and cracking jokes. I had a quiet word, but she basically brushed me off and told me she'd handle it. She didn't. Still, I had put it down to teething problems on her first day, and I had clearly been blinded by the way she looked.

However, the same thing had happened the next day, and then the rest of the week. By the end of the first month of her probationary period, the other employees had already lost patience with her and it was clear that Jasmine had to be let go. Despite being attracted to her, even I had been at the end of my tether. She simply wasn't a team player and she had a poor work ethic. She'd frequently leave cleaning tasks to the other employees, and on a number of occasions, I'd had to stay behind late to redo things that she'd screwed up. Despite thinking she was gorgeous, I had known I was going to have to fire her, and I had been truly gutted, but, it was her own damn fault! I had given her so many opportunities to buck her ideas up, but she'd flutter her eyelashes at me and seemed to figure that I was too much of a pushover to actually fire her.

I had called her into the office intent on ending her employment, though, once I had her sat down, I had frozen. She had looked her dreamy self across the table, pulling off the company baseball cap and allowing her shimmering hair to fall free; my decision suddenly wasn't so easy. Immediately, a thought had come to my head: she was young, wasn't she? It had been her first job, and maybe her screw-ups weren't really her fault. I didn't have the heart to throw her to the wolves. Like she'd said, her father was going to kick her out. I couldn't be responsible for her being homeless, could I? She had just needed a bit of help and guidance, and I assured her as much.

"This hasn't been the best first month," I had said. "But I think there's potential. If you need a hand with anything, just let me know, I'll be happy to help, okay? I'd hate to lose you."

"What do you mean?" she'd asked curiously. "Am I getting a pay rise, or a promotion?"

I had blinked, completely aghast, wondering if this was another one of her jokes. I mean, surely, she couldn't have been that ignorant or tone-deaf. "Are you being serious?"

She had stared back at me blankly. "Well, yeah? It's been a month, hasn't it? How long do I have to stay at this stupid job before the pay gets better?"

"Ummm." I had shaken my head. "Jasmine, your performance has been terrible. Just last night I had to stay back late and re-wipe all of the tables in the lobby. One was completely covered in ketchup. You signed off that you'd already done it."

I had expected her to be ashamed, but instead, she had just shrugged. "Well, it got done, didn't it? You did it, and you did a better job. You said we're a team, right, so what's the problem?" She had pulled a nearby chair over, then leaned back and crossed her black shoes up on the seat. It had been totally unprofessional behaviour, especially when being chewed-out for poor performance. To make it worse, as if I wasn't even there, she had begun checking out the state of her manicure.

"Being a team doesn't mean...I do everything for you." I had glanced down at her black shoes, the soles bared in my direction. My eyes had been lingering on the tread as I mumbled, "Do you really think that's how things work here? The manager running around cleaning up your mess?"

There had been silence, and after a moment, I had managed to pull my eyes away from her shoes. Jasmine had been looking at me from across the table, and what had begun as concern in her eyes at having to deal with the manager, had immediately shifted to something else. She had noticed I was staring at her shoes, again, and though she may have not fully understood why I was doing it, she had recognised that I wasn't normal. She had recognised that I was a pushover when it came to pretty girls, and that her workload wasn't going to be as exhaustive as she'd first expected. She must have known that I was about to fire her, and yet, that still hadn't happened. The question had replayed itself in my mind, and I wasn't sure what I had wanted her to answer: had I been hoping she was reasonable, or had I wanted her to finally reveal just how much of an entitled brat she was? She had looked me dead in the eyes, and shrugged, looking at me knowingly as if she had known what I secretly wanted her to say. "Yeah, why not? If you can do it, and I don't have to, why wouldn't I like that? I'll still get paid the same, won't I? Even if you do my work for me."

There had been a twitch in my pants, and I had shuddered as an exciting thought came to me. Had that been the reason I'd stayed back late the night before? I'd done that work, so Jasmine didn't have to redo it? Had I done it so it was completed and she wouldn't get fired? Had I done it because my place was not just as her manager, it was to make her life easier? She was a young, beautiful, girl and such work was clearly beneath her. I mean, why should she have had to do it if she had someone like me to do it for her, and she could still get paid? I had felt my cheeks flushing in embarrassment, as I fumbled and knocked all of the paperwork across the floor.

"You alright?" she had asked.

"Uh...french fries," I had mumbled.

"What?" She had raised an eyebrow at me. "What are you going on about, french fries?"

"Come," I had said, while stumbling towards the office door. "Come, I'll show you the french fries."

Jasmine had raised a hand in the air as if I was completely confusing her, before she had let out an annoyed sigh. "Okay?" She had lifted her feet and slapped the soles of her shoes loudly on the floor, my eyes instantly lurching downwards. She had paused, before following my eyes down to her shoes. "Why do you always do that?" she had asked. "You always look down."

"Uh, french fries," I had said. "Come."

She had shaken her head bemused, before following me out of the office. I had led her towards where we served up the fries, popped the little paper bag on top of the scoop, before plunging it into the pile of crispiness. "So," I had said, while darting my head to look at her nervously. "I've...uh...already showed you how we serve fries, but I've noticed you always leave it to...uh someone else." I had imagined that someone else being me, as I usually was, and I had to gulp at the realisation of just how much she had always depending upon me at the job. "So, uh...watch again. This is how we serve the...uh fries. Make sure there's plenty in there. There's two sizes, regular and large."

Jasmine had leant over the section and wrinkled her nose. "I'm not doing that," she had said while looking in disgust. "That grease will totally ruin my nails." She had made a point of lifting her hand and displaying her freshly manicured fingers in my direction; each painted a purple that matched with her dyed hair. "Plus, the oil is like totally bad for my skin."

I had blinked while placing the bagged fries onto the rack. I mean, I had known she was lazy, but she had suddenly been completely blatant about it. Did she really think that it was work everyone else had to do, but not her? "So, uh...what did you have in mind when you applied to work here?" I hadn't been sure whether I was a bit taken aback by her attitude, or if I was curious about just how entitled she really was. She had seemed completely out of her comfort zone and I honestly couldn't have pictured her lumping boxes back and forth or dealing with the burger station. Whenever I'd asked her to do such a thing, she'd usually disappear, and I'd find her either in the break room after a need for a 'restroom' break, or leant up against the front counter, talking to a customer or helping herself to a drink.

"I thought I'd just sell food on the front and that's it. Just smile and take orders. That seems easy enough, right? That's what I always do, and it works, doesn't it? Why do you want me doing all of this cleaning and stuff? That's not my job." She had nodded over towards some of the boys in the kitchen. "They can do that." She had then looked me dead in the eyes. "Or you can do it. Just like last night." She had wrinkled her nose. "I don't want to get all icky and sweaty." She had tugged at the collar around her neck.

I had paused while sheepishly looking at Jasmine, being blown away by her entitled attitude. She was just like all of the popular girls at school that I used to shyly avoid. The kind of girls that I had literally no chance with and preferred to make fun of me rather than consider me as any kind of suitor. I'd always been the kind of dorky guy that secretly lusted after such girls, imagining myself as being able to date them. I had been rapidly realising that Jasmine was another level up from such girls, and it was painfully obvious that I hadn't had a hope in hell with her. Still, her presence and confidence had been intoxicating, and I had felt like I wanted to remain in her radiance, however much to the detriment of my own self. I had found myself excited by the idea of being used by girls like her. It was better than being completely rejected, wasn't it? I mean, it would be worth doing all of her work, if it meant I got to share in her company, right? Being around a girl as gorgeous as Jasmine was a reward in itself.

As a result, I had found myself shyly looking into Jasmine's brown eyes and seeing nothing but expectation in return. Even in my position of manager, I had been back to being that little boy at school, powerless beneath the accusing stare of a girl that I could never hope to be with. The kind of girl that had everything handed to her on a plate because of her looks. The kind of girl that felt like such work was beneath her and she only had to bat her eyelashes at a guy like me to get her way. Even though I had bene older, more accomplished, and the one in the position of authority, I could see in Jasmine's eyes that she had expected me to make life a lot easier for her, simply because she was pretty. That's the way it had always been for her, and I had been shaking excitedly as I considered keeping that status quo for her. Why should a pretty girl like Jasmine do such grunt work, when she had a donkey like me to do it for her? Feeling overwhelmed with a submissive, self-depreciating high, I had relented and told her what she wanted to hear. "You're right," I had said, while knowing I was going completely against policy. "A girl like you shouldn't have to get her hands dirty. It'll be better if you're customer-facing only. I'll make sure you're there always on the rota. If you need help with anything, just let me know."

Jasmine's head had turned slightly, as if she didn't quite believe what she was hearing, before a pleased smirk appeared. "Yes, exactly." She had nodded down towards the floor and dragged the toe of her black shoes through a trail of spilled oil. "I don't want to be cleaning or anything like that."

I too had stared down at her shoe, and I had thought about how I felt all warm and fuzzy while imagining Jasmine swanning around with a perfectly clean uniform, while the rest of the staff, including me, had to muck in and make up the workload to cover her. We had tended to run a skeleton staff, and the rota was always framed in a way that we had two people in the kitchen, one in the drive through, one in the burger station, one on fries and other sides, and then usually two on the front counter. The two customer-facing staff would usually alternate their duties, and while the one was serving the customers, the other would make up any cleaning tasks that needed doing, for instance the tables out front or any other area of the restaurant. However, if I had allowed Jasmine to only ever serve customers, then obviously the other staff member would become pretty annoyed with having to pick up the slack.

On the rota, I had marked her down to only work on the counter for the following few weeks. She had done exactly that, and never left the front. She had flirted with customers, she had played on her phone, she had helped herself to drinks. All of the restocking and cleaning she had left to someone else, and if they didn't have time to do it: I had to do it. Over time, I had gradually found myself doing all of the grunt work for her. She would come to me to shift boxes or fix something that she could have easily done herself. Yet, I had bizarrely felt almost proud while jumping to her request. I had almost seen myself as a kind of knight in shining armour that was rescuing the damsel in distress from the most minimal of work. I had thrived in my role as Jasmine's lackey, and determined myself to making her work life as easy as possible. For the first time ever, I had felt like a pretty girl actually saw potential in me, that I was worth keeping around and I wasn't just some shy, loser who she'd inevitably brush off from her presence. I had given Jasmine a reason to keep me as part of her life, and I had been determined to keep things that way.

Back in my apartment, while awkwardly shifting outside her room, my voice was shaking as I reluctantly parroted the words Barbara had instilled in me, scared that she had her ear to the door. "Jasmine, I think it's time for you to move out."

Jasmine squinted at me. She almost seemed baffled that I would suggest such a thing. "What do you mean move out? That wasn't the arrangement," she said in a matter-of-fact manner. "You said I could live here for free, remember?"

"Yes, but things are different now." My voice was shaky and lacking all authority. I knew it was possible that Barbara could hear every word we were saying, and I compelled myself to do the right thing. Despite my situation with Jasmine being exciting, I knew it needed to end. "I have a girlfriend."

Jasmine blinked. "Why does that mean I have to move out?" She gestured around her room. "I'm not getting in the way, am I? I'm happy for you having a girlfriend, and all, James, but as I told you when I moved in: this isn't going to be a game, it'll be for real." She cocked her head and considered me as I stewed in her doorway sheepishly. "This is what you wanted, remember? You invited me here. We even agreed from the start, if you somehow get a girlfriend, then things don't change between us. You made me a promise, and I made you one. I'm still keeping mine."

"I know, but..." I trailed off as I watched Jasmine turn and skip towards her bed. She flopped inside, then stuffed her feet beneath the blanket. Under the tented material, I could see her soles were facing me, teasingly hidden away.

"It's just," I said, before she narrowed her eyes at me and pushed a finger to her lips.

"Good talk, James," she said. "But I was being doing something when you interrupted me." She plucked up her phone, and played around with something or other, music blaring from the screen. For a few minutes, she just ignored me, finishing whatever she was doing.

I just stood there, trying to think of some way to speak up or assert the point that Jasmine had to move out, but while watching her, and the way she was nonchalantly ignored me, palming me off to the side as if my entire presence was irrelevant, it only confirmed to me why I enjoyed this arrangement so much. I was being made to feel out of place in my own home, as if I was nothing more than any annoyance. As a result, I just stood there quietly for a few minutes while Jasmine finished with whatever was so important.

Once she was done, the music paused and she looked up. "What were you saying, James?" She lifted her hand to her side, phone still clutched in her manicured nails. Her black hair, with the streaks of purple, were tied off into two cute pigtails, framing her pale face and dark eyeliner. The nose piercing shimmered as her head turned. "Is this really what you want, James? For me to move out?" She made a show of re-crossing her feet, beneath the blanket, and it was killing me that I couldn't see her soles. She bit her lip in some kind of mock-attempt at being sad. "Do you really want my little feet to move out? Because we have such a good deal going on, don't we?"

By this point, my eyes were fully captivated by Jasmine's feet beneath the blanket. I thought back to the many shifts that we'd worked together and how Jasmine's feet were always hidden away inside those socks and slip-on shoes. Despite me doing most of the donkey work for her, the very nature of the hot, oily and greasy setting of the restaurant would leave her sweating as much as everyone else by the end of her shift. I'd walk around the restaurant in a daze, fantasising about the goings on inside Jasmine's shoes whenever we crossed paths. Once again, I was paralysed into silence while fantasising about revealing Jasmine's feet. I'd put so much work previously into getting to see them on a regular basis, and now I was considering throwing that all away? What the hell was I thinking?