Page 60 of Even After This
“What kind of settings?”
“I’m pretty sure the problem is the screen.”
“You’re probably right, but before we go down that path, I just want to make sure I understand the problem and it’s not something I can solve with a simple settings adjustment.”
I square my shoulders and lift my chin. “Do you have customer privacy rules?”
Cade’s brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
I clutch my purse closer to my side. “If I show you something on my phone, are you bound by some kind of agreement not to tell anyone?”
“Yes.” He draws his answer out to four syllables and nods knowingly.
Wait. That must have sounded bad.
I hold up my hand. “I just need to delete a contact and a photo.”
His face reddens while his body jolts like he’s holding back laughter. I made it worse.
“It’s not inappropriate.” My voice is so loud, a customer nearbyglances over with big, round eyes. She leans down and steers her toddling son away from me.
Cade’s face is now contorted with a forced earnest expression. “Yours wouldn’t be the first awkward photo problem to walk through our doors.”
Taking his elbow in my hand, I guide us to the least populated nook of the room. “Someone programmed it with things I no longer ... appreciate. It’s not inappropriate.” I crane my neck to search our close surroundings and catch possible eavesdroppers. When I’m sure we’re in the clear, I huddle and expend a lot of energy holding my emotion at bay while steadying my voice. “The contact is a celebrity, and I need to know you’ll keep what you see confidential.”
His eyes narrow. “I will not tell a soul.”
Lord help me, I’m going to trust this boy-man. I dig the phone out of my purse, press the power button, turn it face down, and hold it out to him. “Please don’t tell me about any of the waiting messages.”
He opens his mouth to say something.
“Please.” I jerk my outstretched arm. “I don’t want to know what they say.”
Ignoring Harlan, Stanley, and Molly is the trifecta of avoidance, but once Cade and his hair help me fix my phone, I’ll have to deal with them.
“Okay.” He takes the phone and stares at the screen. “What are you trying to do with the settings?”
“Several things. But first, a quick question that might solve all of this. Can I exchange this phone for a pager?”
His face contorts in question. “A what? Do you mean an iPod? I think those were around when I was a baby.”
“You’re making this worse.”
“Well, that’s not good. Let’s go back. Talk to me about the settings giving you issues.” He holds up my phone and waves it back and forth in the air.
“Can we talk about the screen first?”
He looks at me expectantly. He might be young, but he’s focused. Apparently, I’m not getting out of this conversation until I talk about the settings.
“Okay. When I go to change a ringtone and picture assigned to a certain contact, I can’t get it to work.” When the words leave my lips, my chest hurts, and I rub a spot beneath my collarbone.
“Oh, wow. Notifications are popping up like an out-of-control fireworks show.” Cade turns the phone to show me.
“No.” Thrusting out my right hand, I block my view while throwing my left hand over my eyes. I peek at him through my fingers.
“Sorry. What’s the contact name?”
Maybe if I tell him, he’ll change out the picture and ringtone for me, fix my screen, and I’ll be on my way back to the predictable reality of my life.
