LNDF, pt 1
Welcome, worms, to Starlight Cinemas, your home away from home for the next three months. If you are here, that means one of three things. One, your mommy and daddy didn’t want you running under foot all summer and forced you to get a job. Two, we’re the only place who called you back when you sent out your undoubtedly impressive resume. Or three, you’re just a loser who won’t leave. It’s okay, we still accept you. You’re family here.
If you are expecting an easy sit-on-your-ass job, I’m thrilled to say you’re dead wrong. You will work. Prepare for long hours, sweltering stock rooms, and the stench of popcorn butter permeating every article of clothing you own. And nothing, nothing, will compare to the defeat of serving your best friends at the concession counter and then having to clean up their mess afterwards.
In other words, folks, welcome to Hell. Have a nice stay.
*****
Seven thirty in the morning, and Jared’s alarm clock was blaring. It seemed louder in the summer, unnatural, paranormal even. It clearly needed to be destroyed. Unfortunately, the clock’s mystical powers made it more formidable than he’d anticipated, because chucking it at the wall only succeeded in moving the ear-piercing device out of reach. Did absolutely nothing for the ear-piercing part.
Just great.
He pulled the covers over his head, hoping maybe his sheets had developed powers of their own, like sound-proof powers specifically. No such luck, but damn, it was warm and cozy. He burrowed a little deeper, happily trading silence away for comfort.
It was short lived, though. Jared flinched when someone outside of his cocoon flipped on the light. The damn sheets hadn’t developed light-proofing powers either. He had two full seconds of I can ignore this, everything’s still fine before evil, evil hands grasped the bottom of his sheets and pulled them clean off the bed.
“Up you get, JT.” Oh, it was her. Mom. The bane of late-day sleepers everywhere. “Come on, sweetie. Your orientation meeting starts at nine, and you need to get ready.”
Jared reached blindly for the sheets, despite knowing it was futile. She’d wised up to his sheet-groping ways years ago.
Okay, a change in tactics, then: pleading. “Do I have to? Why can’t I just stay home with you and Dad all summer?”
The mattress dipped, and he barely cracked his eyes open to see his mother sitting at his knees. “We talked about this, Jared. Your father and I were happy to let you enjoy your summers through high school, but you’ve already got a year of college under your belt. Time to learn some responsibility, especially now that you have your truck. You have to get your insurance and gas money from somewhere, right?”
“Chad’s parents didn’t make him get a summer job.”
She sighed, and Jared knew he’d pushed a little too far. “Well, good for Chad, if they can afford for him to stay at home and do whatever he wants all day. But you are not Chad, so that means you get up.” She patted him on the calf as she stood. “Start getting ready, and I’ll make you breakfast for your first day.”
“Thanks.”
“And I cleaned and pressed your work shirt and jeans for you. They’re hanging in your closet.”
“Thanks, Mo-wait, what?”
*****
I can’t believe this, Jared thought again as he shifted his pick-up into park. I’m the geek showing up in ironed jeans. She even put a freaking crease in them.
Given the early hour, the movie theater parking lot was pretty empty, with only a dozen or so cars belonging to other employees there for the summer orientation meeting, Jared assumed. Starlight Cinemas was the largest independently-owned, non-chain movie theater in the state, with twenty-five screens playing everything from the newest blockbuster releases to obscure indie films. They had classic horror movie marathons once a month-Hammer to Harryhousen-and an acting troupe came in every Saturday night for Rocky Horror Picture Show.
The place was fun and popular, so management hired additional help every summer to assist with the rush.
Jared rubbed his hands across his thighs vigorously, trying to soften the creases, but the stubborn bastards weren’t going anywhere. Joy. Conceding defeat, he got out of his truck, pulled his shirt straight - “Employee” embroidered above the front pocket - and headed for the theater’s front door.
There was a group of people milling around in the lobby when he entered, and he gave them a wide smile when the majority turned an eye toward him. One or two people smiled back, and a couple gave him a thorough inspection - head to toe - smirking when they saw his pants. Eventually, everyone went back to taking in their surroundings and chatting with each other.
Jared shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet. Already, this job was disappointing.
A few more people trickled into the lobby to join them, milling about for only a moment. Everyone went quiet when a guy stepped out from one of the back rooms, shorter than Jared by almost a foot, kind of squirrely-looking with the beginnings of a receding hairline. His shirt had “Assistant Manager” above the pocket.
“Alright, peons,” the guy started. “Let’s get this over with so you can all get to work.” The man had the air of someone used to giving orders and direction. Everyone circled around him, some more hesitantly than the others. Two men on the opposite side of the circle from Jared looked bored, in fact, and they hung back just a little bit, not quite part of the group.
Once everyone was settled, the assistant manager coughed. “Welcome, worms, to Starlight Cinemas, your home away from home for the next three months. My name is Eric, but it’s Mr. Kripke or sir to all of you, got it?” Jared was taken aback for a second by the guy’s tone - man, what a goober - but then he caught sight of the two guys across the way. One of them - Jared caught a flash of bright green eyes - was slouched and whispering, and it took Jared a moment to realize he was mouthing along with the words coming from Kripke. The other guy, wearing a worn-in cowboy hat, was smirking, mirroring his pal on occasion. Jared had to hold back a chuckle and almost missed what the manager was saying.
“If you are here, that means one of three things. One, your mommy and daddy didn’t want you running underfoot all summer and forced you to get a job.” Kripke stared pointedly at Jared, giving him a once-over. Fucking jeans. “Two, we’re the only place who called you back when you sent out your undoubtedly impressive resume. Or three, you’re just a loser who won’t leave.”
Now the guy turned to face the two clowns, and they both sobered immediately. Green Eyes slid on an innocent face, while Urban Cowboy had the gall to start whistling. Kripke wasn’t amused. “Speaking of losers. Kane, how many times do I have to tell you about the hat? It’s not part of Starlight-approved uniform wear.”
Tex reached up and removed the hat, held it innocently against his chest. “Sorry, boss,” and if that wasn’t dripping with sarcasm, Jared was one of the Seven Dwarves.
Kripke rolled his eyes and started pacing in the circle again, addressing the rest of the crowd. “If you were expecting an easy sit-on-your-ass job, I’m thrilled to say you’re dead wrong.” Once Kripke’s back was turned, Cowboy - Kane, Jared figured - put the hat right back on his head. “You will work. Prepare for long hours, sweltering stock rooms, and the stench of popcorn butter permeating every article of clothing you own. And nothing, nothing, will compare to the defeat of serving your best friends at the concession counter and then having to clean up their mess afterwards.”
He smiled, the kind of calculating smile Jared had only seen on Disney villains before now. “In other words, folks, welcome to Hell. Have a nice stay.
“Now, I have a list of all you summer employees, and I’ll go through it to see where everyone should be stationed for today.” Kripke pulled a long sheet of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and scanned the contents. He sighed before starting. “Ackles.” Green Eyes perked up an eyebrow. “You have projector room two today. No screwing around, and I mean it.”
Ackles gave a mock salute. “Sir! Yes, sir!” Kripke just sneered and kept reading down the list. People were given a variety of responsibilities for the day, everything from concessions to ticket sales - with Kane in projector room one. Jared was still holding out hope he might get a decent position for his first day since Kripke had yet to come to him.
Finally, “Pad…Pada…what the hell?”
“Padalecki, sir.” Hey, he was used to it.
“Whatever. You’ve got clean-up detail with Rosenbaum and Welling. Block one, theaters one through eight. They’ll show you where the supply closet is.”
And just like that, Jared’s hopes for a decent summer were smashed. Janitorial work on his first day. How much worse could it get?
*****
He needed to learn when to keep his big mouth shut.
When Kripke finished passing out assignments, everyone broke apart to find their day’s trainer. Every newcomer seemed to be partnered with a veteran or two, and introductions were brief as everyone went to work.
Jared was approached by two guys, one surprisingly as tall as Jared, with dark hair and blue eyes. The guy extended his hand to Jared, which he eagerly shook. “Tom Welling,” he introduced himself then motioned to the slightly shorter and much balder man. “This is Mike.”
Mike gave Jared the head-to-toe treatment - and seriously, Jared was going to kill his mother for the jeans - then broke into a huge grin. “Rookies get bathroom duty.”
They showed him where the cleaning supplies were, what products were used on what surfaces, where to find the extra trash bags and where they hid the key to the backdoor by the dumpsters. Oddly enough, it was a lot of information to take in, and Jared felt extremely unprepared when eleven o’clock rolled around and the Starlight opened its doors.
Turned out, matinees drew a bigger crowd than Jared ever expected. If he was honest, he’d never really paid much attention to the attendees around him during a show. But you couldn’t miss it when you were one of the theater employees. Especially when it seemed like every other patron was seeking you out to complain about something.
It’s too cold in there.
It’s too hot in there.
The popcorn tastes funny.
It’s too loud. Ask them to turn the volume down.
“Too loud! Can you believe that?” The eleven-twenty presentation of some romantic comedy Jared had never heard of just cleared out, and Jared was taking the opportunity for some good old-fashioned ranting. “The guy was holding his hands over his ears and everything.”
“You get used to it,” Tom said as he swept under a row of seats. “I actually had some old lady tell me one time that she couldn’t see the whole picture and we needed to make our screens smaller. Turns out she was sitting right up front.”
Jared laughed as he took to the stairs and headed to the back row. He filled his arms with discarded soda cups and popcorn containers then ran back down and tossed them in their trash bin. He made two more trips like that before he realized Tom and Mike were staring at him with amused grins on their faces. “What?”
“Mike, go show him what he’s doing wrong.”
“Come on, kid.” Mike hauled Jared up to the top row by the shirt. “There’s a reason they design these hand railings the way they do.” When they got to the top, Mike grabbed the nearest soda cup and angled it between the railing and the wall. It fit perfectly, and when he let go, it slid down the length of the railing and directly into the trash bin waiting at the end. “If you don’t ball up the popcorn bags, they’ll drop the same way. Just make sure you put the can in place first.” That said, Mike climbed onto the railing himself and slid halfway down the stairs. When he hopped off, Tom wordlessly tossed him a broom, and together the three of them made quick work of the theater.
They still made him clean the bathroom by himself, though. “Jesus, don’t these people know how to aim?” Jared could hear them chuckling just outside the bathroom doors. “It’s like they’re freaking two year olds! Are they toilet trained at all?”
“Don’t forget the handicap stall.” Mike sounded like he was holding back the most maniacal laugh in the history of the world. Jared should have known something was up just from that. But when he kicked open the last door, he really hadn’t been ready for the mess. Toilet paper all over the floor, sopping trash piled into the corners, food wrappers for things they didn’t even sell in the concessions and - oh dear god - even used condoms.
“What the fuck!”
“Palidecki!” Oh. Oh no. Jared turned and found Kripke standing right behind him, looking red in the face. “We don’t tolerate that kind of language out of our employees here at Starlight. You’re lucky I’m not a customer.”
“Sorry, sir.” Jared bowed his head, ignoring the botched pronunciation of his name. Instead, he instantly thought of three elaborate ways he could get back at the other two for not covering his back. Payback, oh yes, it would be a bitch.
“Don’t let it happen again,” Kripke griped, and then paused, taking in the full scene around him. “Take care of this mess. And you’re on clean up tomorrow too, just to make sure you understand how things work around here.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kripke left, and moments later Tom and Mike inched into the bathroom with him. To their credit, they at least had the decency to look contrite. “Seriously, we didn’t see him coming until it was too late.” Tom toed a little at the trash, his lips curling when he unveiled something particularly gooey on the floor. “Didn’t mean for you to get Scrub Squad, again.”
“Whatever. You guys have any tips for getting this done faster too?”
“Yeah,” Mike said, holding out a hand. “Give me the mop and toss Tom the bleach. You can still get mirrors, bitch.”
*****
Some kid puked up popcorn and Mr. Pibb during the three o’clock slasher movie, and Tom sent Jared to fetch the heavy duty cleaner from the backup stock closet. “We can’t keep it in the main stockroom because it’s toxic,” he explained. “We’d kill off the clientele if any of that happened to get on the napkins, or whatever.”
Jared found the closet without any problems, used the key Tom gave him, and flipped on the weak light bulb hanging overhead. The space was bigger than anticipated, a stack of boxes in the back nearly stretched the ceiling and connecting flush with the left wall. There was a small gap on the right though, just wide enough for someone to squeeze through if they tried. Which Jared did.
There was harsh rustling and a hissed-out “fuck” before Jared’s eyes adjusted completely and he caught a good look at the other people apparently hiding in the little alcove the boxes provided. Cowboy - Kane, damn it - looked relieved, pulled a lit cigarette from behind his back and took another puff.
Ackles, however, looked pissed. “Jesus Christ. Don’t you knock?”
“On a closet door?”
“Especially on a closet door. Fuck, we thought you were Kripke.”
Jared looked between the two of them. “I can’t believe you’re smoking in here.”
Kane just shrugged, exhaled slowly. “What can I say? We don’t exactly get cigarette breaks other than the fifteen minute lunch they so graciously give us.” He pointed to a vent above his head. “There’s good air flow.”
Jared turned to Ackles. “And you?”
The guy shrugged. “Needed a breather. If the rookie I got paired with threaded a reel wrong one more time, I might have run her hair through the projector just to feel better.” Ackles smirked a little bit. “You’re Pada-Whatever, right?”
“Jared. I don’t think my last name can survive another mangling.”
Ackles nodded, smirk slowly turning into a smile. “Jensen. And Chris.” Kane raised his cigarette in acknowledgement. “So what brings you ‘round here? Thought you had first block with the Dynamic Duo?”
“Kid puked in four.” Both Jensen and Chris wrinkled their noses, and Jared started to slip back out through the gap. “Any clue which one of these bottles I need to grab?”
“The yellow,” Jensen offered. “Third shelf right.”
“Thanks. Can’t read the labels in this light.”
“Palomino!” Christ, not again. Kripke was just outside the closet. “Who are you talking to?”
“Myself, sir.” Jared could swear he’d heard both Jensen and Chris take a collective breath on the other side of the box wall. “Couldn’t remember which bottle Tom told me to bring back.”
“Tom?”
“Um, Welling.”
“Welling. Right. Well, next time, close the door behind you. We have an image to uphold, and our patrons don’t need to see our supply closet or, god forbid, walk in on their own. It’s locked for a reason, you know.” Kripke pulled the bottle from Jared’s hands and tapped repeatedly on the skull and crossbones emblem on the label. Handing it back, Kripke pivoted on a heel and walked away.
Jared waited until he was certain he was gone, and then looked back at the boxes. Jensen peeked around, grinning. “Thanks for the cover, Jared. See you around, okay?” This close and in better light, Jared could make out the smattering of freckles across the bridge of Jensen’s nose.
Jared nodded, grabbed the yellow bottle of cleaner, and left, closing the door behind him.
*****
His back ached, his feet hurt, his thighs burned, and there was nothing more he wanted to do than crawl into bed and say goodbye to the world for about twelve hours. So of course, that was when Chad called.
“Man,” Chad started. “I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day. Where the hell have you been?”
“Work. Remember? I had to get a job.”
“A job, right. Totally forgot. Well, what do we have planned for tonight, Jay-red?”
“Sleep.”
“Sleep’s not a plan.”
“Sleep is so a plan. It’s an excellent plan.”
There was some yelling on the other side of the line, and Jared could barely make out Chad telling whoever was around to shut up. “Come on, Jared. The whole gang’s over at my place. We’ve hardly seen you all year, Mr. Local-Colleges-Aren’t-Good-Enough, and we deserve prime Padalecki time.”
“Man, I just got home from my first day. Can’t this wait until tomorrow?”
“Sandy’s here.”
Jared scowled, hoping just once Chad might be able to see his expression through the phone line. “Low blow, jackass.”
Chad laughed. “See you in ten minutes.”
Jackass or not, Chad knew exactly how to push Jared’s buttons. The chance to see Sandy McCoy was Jared’s proverbial carrot-on-a-stick. Sandy, who he’d spent all high school and now his freshman year of college mooning over. Wasn’t Jared’s fault he got instantly tongue-tied the moment she came into view. It was just that, well, she was Sandy.
There were tons of cars parked in front of Chad’s place when Jared pulled up. The Murrays were one of the more affluent families in town, and their house was no less a testament to their lifestyle. In the four years Jared had known Chad, he still hadn’t been inside all of the rooms. Hell, he didn’t think Chad had even been inside them all.
It looked like Chad’s new toy was a restored Shelby Cobra, silver paint job with a black racing stripe up and over the hood, sleek and center stage in their garage. The license plate read Chad XII. Jared ran his hand over the car, made a mental note to borrow the keys in the near future. Ride like that, well, he couldn’t let Chad have all the fun.
He let himself in - Mrs. Murray had insisted years ago that knocking was for company, not for family - and found the party in mid-swing around him.
When Chad had said the whole gang, he’d obviously meant their entire graduating class. And then some. People Jared didn’t even recognize milled around him, drinking out of red plastic cups and yelling at each other over the loud music.
“Jared!” At the sound of his name, Jared turned around and watched Chad pull himself off the couch. Chad grabbed a cup off a nearby table and pushed it into Jared’s hand. “About time you got your skinny ass over here.”
Jared took a gulp, winced a little because damn, it was strong. Chad must have raided his father’s liquor cabinet again. “I can’t stay long. Have to get up early in the morning.”
“What for?”
“Work, you idiot.”
“Again? I thought you already worked today.”
Jared rolled his eyes. There was no way he was best friends with someone this stupid. “It’s a continual thing. Means tomorrow and the next day and the next, if they schedule me like that.”
“Fuck! Where are you working, anyway?”
“The Starlight.”
Chad wrinkled his nose and chugged down the rest of the contents of his cup. “That dive? Why don’t you talk to my dad? He could set you up with some cushy summer position with his company. Knowing Dad, you wouldn’t even have to show up to get paid.”
In truth, Jared had considered it. If his mother hadn’t made him fill out applications for area businesses, he probably would have gone straight to Mr. Murray and asked. But now he was at the Starlight, and he thought back to the moments of fun he’d had with Tom and Mike, and for one brief moment his mind inexplicably flashed on green.
Jared smiled. “Nah, I’m cool where I am. Besides, now I don’t have to deal with you making intern jokes at my expense.”
“Whatever, dude.” Chad slapped him on the back and grabbed another drink out of a passerby’s hand. “Come on, Sandy’s in the other room.”
*****
The alarm clock’s evil powers had intensified to near sonic levels. Of course, that could have been due to Jared staying out until after one in the morning, but really, it was easier to blame an inanimate object for his discomfort, instead of blaming himself.
It didn’t help matters any when his mother entered his room a few moments later with ice cubes. Pouring the damn things down his t-shirt was just a cruel way to wake him.
Still, it was all worth it, because Sandy had spoken to him. Used complete sentences, and everything. It had been a far cry better than any of their two-word conversations of the past.
When Jared stepped inside the theater, he headed to the tiny room he had been informed counted as the employee lounge. One small table with only four chairs sat smack in the middle, and the walls held the time-in clock and boards displaying everything from company policies to Ten Tips for Better Employee Morale. Jared chuckled at that one. The biggest dry-erase board he’d ever seen held the day’s roster, and true to Kripke’s word, Jared was signed up for janitorial duty again, theaters nine through eighteen.
Morning setup went quickly. Jared was kind of shocked when he walked to his bank of theaters and found Chris standing there, hat perched back on his head, twirling the closet key around his finger. “Surprised I didn’t get Scrub Squad yesterday,” was Chris’ only explanation, and together they grabbed the supplies they needed to get the place ready. Another rookie was on their team, a short girl by the name of Alexis, who Jared took pity on and showed the railing trick after her fourth trip up the stairs.
Things got messy in the early afternoon. Jared’s fifteen minute break was just ending, and he came out of the employee lounge in time to watch about ten guys, frat boys if he had to guess, show up for the new crude comedy showing in theater twelve. They were loud, obnoxiously so, and vulgar to the point where parents were glaring and covering their children’s ears. Half of them went into the arcade to manhandle a perfectly good Capcom game, and the rest headed for the concession stand. The schedule put Kreuk and Mack - Jared never did catch their first names at the orientation meeting - at the counter, and Jared saw both girls share a worried glance.
It was okay until the third guy placed his order, and Jared was actually able to see the point where he went from annoying creep to full-on sleaze. While Mack turned away to fill his order, the guy leaned over the counter to get right in Kreuk’s face. From his position, Jared couldn’t hear what the guy was saying, but given the man’s eye-line and hand gestures, he could make a really educated guess. And Kreuk couldn’t have looked less interested. She was moving away from the counter’s edge when the guy grabbed her wrist, and her surprised yelp had Jared moving quick.
In five determined steps, he was down the hallway and right at Frat Boy’s side. “Excuse me,” Jared gritted through his teeth, and he had to resist the urge to throw a punch when the man turned a slimy smile his way.
Instead, Jared pulled himself to his full height - he could be an intimidating bastard when he wanted to be - and glowered down at the creep. “I’m going to have to ask you and your friends to leave. You’re causing a disturbance.”
The guy blinked a couple times, like Jared was surprising him with some sort of revelation or something, and flung Kreuk’s wrist away from him. “Really?” he asked, and Jared could swear he smelled alcohol on the man’s breath. Typical. “Well, don’t you have to get permission from your manager to kick someone out?”
“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. In fact…” and Jared looked over his shoulder in the direction of Kripke’s office, expecting his boss to come out any second to investigate the disturbance.
Kreuk’s surprised gasp was the only warning Jared got. Then there was a brief flash before his eyes, followed by pain at his left temple, and then the floor. It wasn’t until Jared rolled onto his back and saw Frat Boy pulling back his fist for another punch that he realized what had just happened. By that time, all Jared could do is flinch and wait for the next blow.
It never came. Jared blinked up again to see Jensen standing behind Frat Boy, holding the guy in a body lock that pinned both arms at his back. The man struggled futilely; Jensen just shifted his weight to keep the hold.
“See, here’s what I don’t understand,” Jensen said into the guy’s ear. “Jared was going to let you guys go, no muss no fuss, and then you had to be an idiot. Now we have to call the cops, do all that paperwork, file assault charges. Now we’re all going to be stuck here after our shifts, instead of heading home. Just so you could, what, look like more of a badass for your Neanderthal buddies?”
At Jensen’s words, said Neanderthals seemed to do the math and realize there were more of them than there was of Jensen, and they advanced to help their friend. Or at least they’d started to, but at that moment Jared was treated to the upside-down view of Chris charging onto the scene, brandishing a mop. Seemed like a pretty effective barrier from where he was watching.
Of course, that was the moment Kripke decided to finally emerge from his cave. “What’s going on in here? Ackles, Kane, you two had better have good reasons for harassing the customers.”
“Not to sound too third grade, sir,” Jensen said, still restraining the fidgety man, “but they started it. Genius here decided it would be a good idea to, what was your word, harass the employees.”
Kripke looked suspicious, and his gaze bounced between Jensen and Chris and then traveled down. “Paddywagon, what’s your part in all of this?”
“One of the harassed, sir.” Jared gingerly rubbed at his jaw. “Ow.”
“Fine.” Kripke sighed and rolled his eyes. “Kane, direct them to my office. I’ll call the police department so we can get this all settled.”
From behind the counter, Mack snapped her cell phone shut. “Already handled, sir.”
Throwing his hands up, Kripke huffed, “Fine! Kane, now. And for the last time, take that hat off!” He stomped away to his office, followed by Chris, who was waving his hat above his head and singing “yeehaw” like he was herding cattle. The frat boys stumbled along begrudgingly, and Jensen released his captive and pushed him into the bumbling mess.
When they were gone, Jensen extended his hand to Jared, and he gratefully took it, welcoming the help up. Once he was back on his feet, Jared brushed himself off and smiled at Jensen. “Thanks for the backup, man.”
“No problem. Those guys looked like trouble from the moment I handed them their tickets.” Jensen gestured over his shoulder, and Jared could see the back door to the ticket booth standing wide open. “Sorry I didn’t make it before he decked ya, though. That’s going to be one hell of a bruise.”
Jared rubbed his jaw again, and yeah - still hurt like a bitch. “Got here before round two, which again, thanks. Where’d you learn moves like that, anyway?”
“Took a couple of self-defense classes back in high school.” Jensen shrugged, then glanced back over his shoulder. “Look, I’d love to stay and chat, but I think my rookie’s getting a little flustered on his own. You got plans for tonight?”
Jared shook his head, and Jensen grinned. “You do now. You know Treff’s out on Sixth? A bunch of the matinee crew’s going out there for drinks after shift.”
“I’m not 21.”
“And they don’t card,” Jensen said while backing away. “SO’s are welcome, and the bartender’s generous with the booze, so bring cash for tips.” Then he turned completely and shut the door to the booth.
*****
Jensen had been right. They did have to stay after shift to fill out paperwork, and it sucked. A lot.
After a brief call home to let his mom know he was going out, Jared drove downtown to Treff’s Bar. It was one of those hole-in-the-wall places that had been there before they fully developed the area, snuggled between two high-rise office buildings. Jared had never been inside, so he wasn’t fully expecting the slightly cozy atmosphere of the place. The lighting was just the right level, not a florescent bulb in sight, and the barstools were generously cushioned. On the walls, there were framed photographs of favored patrons.
He recognized the group he was looking for in the back corner, laughing louder than the jukebox, and he headed over. Mack was the first one to see him. “Hey! Our resident knight in shining armor is here.” The whole table turned around to see him, wide grins on everyone’s faces.
Introductions were quick: the petite brunette on Tom’s knee was his girlfriend Jamie, the guy sitting behind Chris, strumming a guitar, was his friend Steve, and as it turned out, Kreuk and Mack’s first names were Kristin and Allison. Felt good to know.
Shortly after Jared found a chair to drag over, Kristin dropped a bottle into his hand. “I didn’t get the chance to thank you back at the theater, but I really did appreciate you going all Don Quixote on my behalf.”
Jared raised his beer in salute. “At least he wasn’t really a windmill though, right? Because that would have just been embarrassing.”
Strong hands fell on Jared’s shoulders, and he looked up to see Jensen hovering over him. “Give the kid a prize. He got Kristin’s literature quiz of the day.” Jensen squeezed lightly then moved to an empty seat next to Chris. “At least we got one smart rookie in the whole bunch. The kid I was working with today somehow managed to crash the ticket program. I had to reboot the whole system before we could move the line along.”
As if on cue, everyone broke into stories about the stupid things their rookies had done throughout the day. Jared had been there when Alexis forgot to position the trash bin before sending a nearly-full soda down the railing, and he laughed when Chris explained in great detail the intensity of the resulting splash. “There was Coke on the screen, I swear to God!”
Everyone at the table obviously had a couple of years at the Starlight under their belts, and as the stories turned into recollections of newbies-past, it became clear to Jared who the true veterans were. Jensen had finished talking about the guy who had, seven years ago, managed to light a reel of film on fire when he attempted to smoke up in the projector room - “It’s why they put at least two of us up there now, seriously” - when Jared asked, “How come you keep coming back? I mean, summer after summer for more than seven years?”
Jensen smirked. “I have my reasons. But the biggest one? Two words, Jared: Employee screenings.” When they locked eyes, Jensen’s mouth around his own beer, it was Jared who gulped.
*****
Part 2