Chapter One

Coaster on the Floor

Her promotion to shift manager entitled Diane to wear black pants while Kevin and the rest of the drivers were required to wear jeans. Hard at work in her washed-out-green shirt with sleeves to her elbows, her hair tied up and tucked under the baseball cap all the workers wore, Diane could not have done less to exude femininity, but Kevin still found it. Whether he viewed her making pizzas from the side while he scrubbed grease from the deep dish pans and admired her extended arms, hands deftly spreading cheese and olives and sausages over dough covered in pools of sauce, or stared, while he was taking orders on the phone, at her ass, as she sidled the length of the pizza-making counter, he longed to be near her. He craved the intimacy the pizza shop gave them. He would sometimes stare at her behind with a clinical reverence, analyzing what it could be about the way her curves pressed out from those black pants, dotted with flour handprints—her over-sized shirt pulled out and hanging over a hip—that made it so enticing. He felt guiltless eyeing her; his appreciation of her beauty felt so genuine.

He truly admired her, was a large part of it. The two of them had started working at around the same time, both as drivers. While he spent the summer folding pizza boxes and keeping up on the dishes, waiting for deliveries, she had gotten the owner to train her on every aspect of running the pizza shop, and earned her promotion. He didn’t have that kind of initiative. In fact, he didn’t learn to answer the phones until his first shift under her supervision.

While they had both been drivers, they had a few friendly exchanges, but when she called him to the phone, Kevin noticed immediately her new managerial tone. “Kevin, come over here.” She smiled, kindly. “I’m going to have you answer phones between deliveries, in addition to your other duties.”

“Okay, sure.” He felt himself blushing. He was pretty sure Diane suspected his crush. He couldn’t imagine a woman as beautiful as her didn’t suspect every man developed some level of infatuation with her. He hoped she didn’t know the extent of his.

Kevin had been kicking himself for not asking her out when he had the chance. The store had a strict policy against managers dating the hourly employees. His berating himself, he knew, was an absurd façade. He wasn’t really fooling himself. He wouldn’t have asked out a beautiful woman like Diane in a million years. He was shy enough with women in his own league. He felt satisfied with work-related conversation and the occasional exchange of personal, friendly anecdotes.

Diane instructed him on how to take orders over the phone, gave him a script to memorize, then went to make pizzas. She returned after several minutes and tested him. She leaned against the counter and played the part of customers placing orders. She made him hold the phone to his ear, as if each were a real call. Kevin, grinning awkwardly, did as he was told. He punched the orders into the computer, without firing them into the system, as she watched and corrected his mistakes. He found her rather impatient with his progress after a few minutes, and he was surprised to find himself feeling ashamed of his frequent blunders. Once he got it down, though, she praised him. “Very good. Now you’re ready to take real calls, all by yourself.”

Kevin knew his enjoyment of her praise showed all over his face.

The hang out after work was the bowling alley across the street. Kevin always started the evening when he joined everyone—anytime he specifically heard Diane would be there and other nights when he felt like hoping she would drop by—intent as hell on getting on the list for a game of pool. There were only two tables in the back corner and the cover was perfect. He could sit and enjoy the wait near Diane, listening to her unwind by talking, usually to Monica or one of the other drivers, and only occasionally have to abandon her to play his turn at pool, maintaining the deception. Luckily, Diane never came around and watched. She might have grown suspicious seeing him shoot. For a supposed pool fiend, he couldn’t sink a ball to save his life.

After a