Page 8 of The Package
There is shuffling at my back as voices near us.
“Sorry about that, Mr.—”
“Jules,” Mr. Flannel Shirt says, interrupting the maintenance worker I sense standing there. I shrug into my jacket and turn to face him. “Here are your packages.” He places them in my arms.
“Thanks.”
“The least I can do is help you deliver them.”
“No. I’m fine.” I shake my head suddenly unsteady and on unsure footing. I grab the packages tighter as if they’ll ground me. “I’ve got them.”
“You sure? I know I’m Floor Fifteen, but I have no problem helping.” He smiles softly at his joke but it’s almost as if with the doors open and the real world back around us, the gap between us is that much greater.
“I’m sure.” The sooner I’m away from this—from him, from this building, from this damn day—the better. “Thanks. Thank you.” I start to walk and he steps in front of me.
“Wait.” He reaches out and puts my reindeer antlers on my head, his fingers lingering as he tucks an errant strand of hair behind my ear. “There. Now, you’re ready to go.”
The lopsided smile he gives me has things stirring in me that shouldn’t stir. Has parts aching in me that shouldn’t be aching.
I struggle with the need to go and the want to stay. “Um—packages. You’ve got yours?”
“Right here,” he says and tucks his package under his arm before reaching out and placing a hand on my biceps. “Jules—”
“Thanks for trying to make me laugh,” I say startled by his touch and the sudden want for more of it. “For trying to make me feel better. I . . .”
“After all that, you still hate Red Vines though. It’s a pity.”
His line works. I smile softly. “And you won’t try Twizzlers.” I take a step back to gain some distance. “Merry Christmas.” I give a nod before walking off the elevator and away from him.
“Merry Christmas, Jules.”
His voice carries after me and it takes every ounce of restraint I possess not to turn back and look at him.
4
Jules
“Jesus Christ, Julia. I asked you for one damn thing,” Barney sneers and for a moment I think of being stuck in the elevator yesterday. The He is the reason for the season comment and for some reason, it makes me fight back a smile despite my current situation—standing before my ex-boss asking for my final paycheck. “I asked you to deliver those packages for me and you messed that up. You were my best girl and . . . “
“You fired me, Barney. If I was your best girl, you would have given me a second chance,” I huff out and look around the stacks of mail sorted but sitting idle. The mail room is empty. Barney must have let everyone work a half day for the holiday so they could all get home for Christmas Eve before the snow starts.
“Jules.” My name sounds like regret and it gives me hope that I might still have a job here.
“I’m not here to cause problems. I just want my check.” I shrug.
“And I just want the mistake fixed. You do realize that you delivered the wrong package to the owner of the company, right?”
“No, I didn’t. I didn’t have any packages to a McMasters.” I know I didn’t. I’ve never even been to the floor his office is on.
“You say that and yet I got a call from Archer McMasters himself asking why he received a package for someone else and not the very important package he was waiting for. You think that makes me look like I run a tight ship? You think—”
“What’s your point, Barney?” I ask. “You want me to switch it out? Fine. Give me my job back and I’ll fix the problem. Although, I know for a fact I didn’t mess anything up yesterday.”
My words stop his rant and for the first time since stepping foot in here, I notice the bags under his eyes are darker, his hair a little bit messier, but there is a ghost of a smile on his lips that makes me feel like I’ve been played. “What?” he barks out a laugh.
“It’s Christmas Eve. I’m sure you have a family to get home to when I don’t have any plans . . . so go ahead and give it to me. I’ll make it right.”
“I was ready to bribe you to fix the problem and you just up and offer to?”
