*Everyone in this story is over the age of 18.*
My asshole co-worker walks into the gas station.
He swaggers in like he owns the place. His jeans are worn out and have stains on 'em. His shirt is one size too small, it fits against his chest tightly.
Kaleb.
Kaleb is our on-site mechanic at our company truck stop. I work inside the little convenience store and Kaleb works in the mechanic shoppe attached to the building. Kaleb comes into the gas station to clock in, first thing each morning.
Let me tell you, this dude is the definition of trailer park handsome.
The outfit he wears is Wrangler jeans, and the black gas-station uniform shirt is tucked into his pants. He wears a huge, silver belt buckle everyday to work, and a silver cross necklace on his throat.
His leather boots are pointed and western. They're fancy, stitched designs covering the ankle and heel. This prick is a real show pony, that's for sure.
I seethe with jealousy as I stare him down.
He's a big boy, tanned and muscular. Probably from working long hours in the Indiana sun. Dark curls peek out from under his John Deere cap. He's also got this handsome face that makes old ladies swoon.
Too bad he's an asshole.
I grind my teeth and force my customer service smile wide.
"Kaleb." I try to say in a friendly tone. "You're late."
He glances over me and gives me a shit-eating smirk.
"Good morning sunshine." He replies smoothly.
My smile never dropped so fast.
"Kaleb Macinnis, you are twenty minutes late. I've had enough of your excuses—"
I tried my best to sound authoritative and pull rank. After all, I've worked here longer then him, and I am older. But that little prick cuts me off.
"Sorry, boss. There was an accident on the main road. Traffic was piling up." He shrugs his shoulders and looks me dead in the eye. "Won't happen again."
I scoff at him, absolutely blown away by his nonchalant attitude. "But you live ten minutes away?"
This fucking guy has a CB radio in his lifted 1985 Chevy 2500. I can constantly hear it goin' off while I'm taking the trash out.
I guarantee that Kaleb heard the news from the radio while starting up his truck. He must've seen the traffic pile-up as an excuse to come to work late.
I just know it, I can feel it deep down in my gut.
But I can't prove it.
Kaleb smiles and breezes on past me. His tattooed hand briefly touches my back. "I'll be out in the garage." His voice is unwavering
Fuck.
Pisses me off so bad that I can't do jack shit about Kaleb clocking in late. So I let it go, and get back to doing my job behind the cash register.
There's nothin else to be done about it.
I look back at him one last time, and he smiles knowingly. That little shit.
