Career Tip # 8 Verbalize your issues.
Have you got an unresolved issue with your boss or fellow employee? Don't let it fester. The best team players can confront the issues head-on. Often just a quick chat at the water cooler can iron out grievances and save you a trip to the HR department.
Over a post-sleepover breakfast of Gale's waffles and bacon, Joey keeps her eyes on Dawson, on Jen.
Words don't seem to form properly in her mouth. Late-night realizations have rendered her mute. The reason for her sudden quiet sits beside her, oblivious as he pours rivers of maple syrup until every pocket is filled.
Spearing a wedge of her own waffle, Joey bites down hard on the fork.
"What are you doing for Christmas, Jen?" Gale flashes her news-anchor smile, busing herself with breakfast.
"My parents are staying in New York. Dad has to work over the holiday. So it's just Grams and I at home. I suppose we'll have a quiet day, after morning church service, that is."
"What about you, Pacey? Are you and Joey working over Christmas?" Gale gesticulates with her left hand while pouring batter into the press with her right.
"We have to work on Christmas Eve, then we have the week off," he answers.
"That's nice," Gale says before stealing a surreptitious glance at Joey. "Has he officially driven you crazy yet?"
Popping a blueberry into her mouth, Joey answers a hearty, "Yes."
Pacey puts his palm against his chest, "I take offense to that implication, Mrs. Leery, when, in fact, it is Joey that drives me crazy."
Gale gives Joey a knowing look. "I think Joey will probably appreciate a few days off over Christmas."
Joey grins at Pacey, but her reluctant gaze doesn't quite meet his. "I certainly will."
Maybe that's what she needs? Time and space. Even if the thought of it makes a pit form in her stomach.
She focuses again on the plate, letting the waffles serve as a distraction. Pacey's legs are splayed in the widest of moves, a knee dangerously close to her own.
When Jen stands to help clean up, Pacey leans toward Joey.
"You okay?" He whispers, knee colliding with hers.
She responds with a level expression. "I'm fine. Why?"
"You're quiet this morning."
"Must a girl greet the day with radiant effervescence, or might she simply not be a morning person?"
Scrutinizing her for a moment, Pacey lets her off the hook, shrugging and standing with his plate. "Incredible breakfast, Mrs. Leery, as always."
He turns the faucet, filling the sink, adding a generous squirt of dishwashing liquid. Nothing in his cheery disposition, or his waffle eating, reveals that he might have purposefully moved his body towards Joey's in the darkness of the study. Maybe she was wrong, after all.
He seems well-rested. Positively fresh. Whereas her eyes feel heavy from lack of sleep, from tossing and turning over a few minutes of close contact.
They collect their backpacks. Pacey collects his foreign film, safe in its plastic Screen Play Video case.
Jen walks back to Grams' house, Joey rows home. Pacey waits until the girls have left, drops his backpack, and instead loiters for a few hours in Dawson's room. They talk about school, they talk about girls. They don't talk about Joey Potter.
When the hour has come that he must return home to get ready for work, Pacey walks by the study. The mattress they laid upon is gone, the blankets too. Even though it's empty he steals a glance, and his heart races just a little faster.
All anyone wants to rent is Christmas movies. Home Alone, National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation, and Miracle on 34th Street are all out on loan. The list of holds fills an entire page.
"Do you have a Nightmare Before Christmas?" a desperate kid interrupts Pacey as he's rewinding returns.
"Sorry little dude, fresh out of the classics," he replies.
"What about Jingle All the Way?"
Pacey points a thumb to the action section. "Plenty of Arnie over that way, but if it has so much as a Christmas tree in a scene, you're outta luck."
The kid groans and rents Casper instead.
Joey has the returns trolley, finding the correct locations for videos, arranging them meticulously. She has barely spoken a word to Pacey since their shift began and she slid the vest over her arms. Distracted by customers, or dusting, or anything that didn't involve him.
Finally, when it's almost 9 pm and there aren't enough customers for Joey to outrun his attention, he pounces.
"What do you think Santa will get you for Christmas?" On tiptoes, his hands grip the top of the aisle, chin resting on his fingers.
"A pony," Joey deadpans. "You."
"I'm hoping for a Nintendo, or a new family, whatever the big guy decides," he shrugs.
"What if you get neither?"
"I suspect that's the most likely outcome. Comes with being on the naughty list, I guess. You never know, I might be lucky enough to get some recycled items of Doug's from years gone by."
"The sloppy seconds of gifts?"
He grins at her comment. "Last year I got an Essential Judy Garland CD, which was rejected by Douggie the year before - only because he already had a copy."
"You didn't tell me you were the proud owner of that classic. Maybe we could add it to the evening drive collection?" Joey teases.
"Ha-ha."
"I don't think you're on the naughty list, Pace, if there was such a thing."
"Classic good list attitude, Potter."
She scoffs. "If I were on the good list, you'd think I'd have a parent to show for it."
"I got two of those, and I can't vouch for it adding any Christmas merriment."
Joey stacks another video.
"Seriously Jo, what's on your wishlist? A new CD? A miniskirt? A framed picture of your newest and handsomest best friend?" His thumb points to his chest.
She rolls her eyes. "I have no wish list. And if I did, you can keep the framed prints on your mom's mantle."
Pacey rounds the aisle, making his way toward her. On his approach, she wraps her hands around the trolley to exit, but he blocks her path. "Why are you being weird?"
"I'm not being weird." She presses the trolley into his legs with irritation, but he doesn't move.
"You are, in fact, being weird."
Joey huffs, pressing the trolley harder.
"Did I do something?" He asks.
Joey shakes her head. This morning her hair was tied back in a ponytail, but now it's out, draping over her shoulders, swaying to and fro.
"Have I inadvertently pissed you off more than normal?"
She thinks about it. "You've pissed me off a perfectly normal amount."
He asks a question he isn't sure he wants the answer to. Since the waffles, he had battled a niggling feeling that maybe Joey wasn't as asleep on the floor of that study as he'd initially thought.
"Was it something that happened at the sleepover?"
She blinks. "No."
"Did I snore?"
"What?"
Pacey initiates damage control. "When I fell asleep, before Jen came in to kick me out? Was I snoring or drooling? I move around a lot in my sleep. I used to sleepwalk as a kid. Once they found me in the morning curled up under the swing set in the snow. I had no memory of getting there."
Joey shakes her head with vigor. "Would you quit apologizing for nothing? It's fine. I'm fine. You did nothing."
"Was it the movie choice?"
She sighs. "For goodness' sake, you want a list of the reasons I'm quiet? I'll give you multiple! I'm tired. We were up half the night at Dawson's. I'm at work - not particularly jolly about having to be here, either. Christmas is a week away, and I think it's pretty clear that it's not my favorite holiday. I have a mountain of homework to do. Your dad inexplicably hates me and my family, meanwhile, I'm worried that my own dad won't get parole, but I'm equally worried that my dad will get parole. Shall I go on?"
He backs away. "I'm sorry, Jo. I didn't mean to hound you."
"It's okay." She goes back to stacking videos.
Pacey returns to his book, cracks the spine and reads the same paragraph three times in a row.
The Screen Play Video Christmas party comprises eight employees and Keith. Keith's house serves at the venue, where his wife has made them a Christmas dinner, four days before the fact. Their best china is laid out, linen napkins. Everyone is served pink punch in crystal stemware.
Pacey has reindeer antlers on his head. The battery-operated kind with tiny lights inside. He's wearing a green sweater and at some point, he unwound a strip of tinsel from Keith's tree and draped it around his neck. It sparkles and reflects a rainbow onto his face.
All the tinsel in the world cannot hide the fact that it's awkward. Sitting in the boss' dining room, his kids watching Cheers re-runs in the den downstairs. The turkey is delicious, the gravy lumpy. Joey and Pacey make their way through the meal, side by side. Between mouthfuls, Pacey regales everyone with tales of Screen Play's strangest customer interactions of the year. Fights over late fees, curious items found in video cases, the man who rented every film starring Meryl Streep and then never returned them. Everyone laughs. Pacey loves the spotlight. He's made for it.
Joey, the newest employee at the table, keeps mostly quiet. Instead, listening to the stories, smiling and laughing at the appropriate moments.
"Joey, tell them about the Splash lady," Pacey nudges her.
Laying down her fork, she tells the story. "On my first Thursday, this woman came into the store with bright pink lipstick, and big hair. She rented Splash, told me how much she loved Tom Hanks, and left. I thought nothing of it. Then, the next Thursday, she came back, rented Splash, and left. I thought I was imagining it, getting a déjà vu moment, but no. The next week, the same again. I looked it up on the computer. Every Thursday she rents Splash, every Wednesday she returns it, and every Thursday she checks it out again."
Everyone chuckles.
"What would happen if she comes in on a Thursday and someone else has checked it out?" Gemma asks.
"It seems the market for Splash is exactly one Capeside resident, so she's in luck," Joey replies.
Pacey does the math. "Two bucks a week, fifty-two weeks a year, a hundred and four dollars in total. Buying her own video copy would be cheaper."
"Don't say that," Keith laughs. "If all it takes to make a profit is a mermaid Daryl Hannah, let's not question the logistics."
Keith's wife clears the table, refusing any offers of help. The small group scatters, huddling in their shift groups. Pacey and Joey stand by the Christmas tree, popsicle stick ornaments hang beside hand-cut paper snowflakes.
"Can we leave yet? Would it be rude?" Asks Joey.
"Yes. We haven't had dessert."
"So?"
Pacey levels his eyes at Joey. "Why do you always want to leave parties before they have even begun? You are the fun police."
"You drive me crazy when you call me the fun police."
Clinking his punch glass with hers, he replies. "You drive me crazy most of the time, so it's par for the course."
"It is my goal in life. But I will add that you also drive me crazy when you call on me to tell stories in front of a group."
"I was trying to include you in the conversation. Make you feel welcome."
"Not all of us want to be the center of attention."
"Really?" He raises a skeptical brow, a line forming between his eyes.
"You drive me crazy when you do that thing with your face." She points to his forehead.
"I'm sorry my face offends you so." He repeats the aforementioned facial movement. "You sure are eager to highlight all the ways I drive you crazy."
"Well, anything is better than marinating in this weird Christmas party situation. I can list the many and varied ways you drive me insane if you'd like?"
"This should be fun."
"Would you like them listed alphabetically, or chronologically?"
"You can fire them off at whim if you prefer. Shall I get you a pen?" He pretends to search for one in his pockets.
"No, verbally is sufficient."
"Do I get the right to reply? Or do I just have to sit here and take the abuse?"
"I guess you can reply, if you must," Joey grins.
He takes a large sip of the pink liquid. "Joey Potter, you drive me crazy because you've been weird and quiet since the weekend."
"Hold on! This was about you."
"You think I'm going to stand here while you list all my worst personality traits and I have no means of retaliation?"
"Well, yes."
He raises his eyebrows in challenge.
"Pacey, you drive me crazy when you wear stupid Christmas decorations." She pokes at his reindeer adornment, and he pulls it off, transferring the antlers to her head.
"Joey, you drive me crazy when you want to leave our Christmas party early."
She drops her voice low. "Do you really want to hang around here until the wee hours, in Keith's living room?"
"Not particularly, but what I really don't want to do is go home."
"You could come back to my place," she shrugs. "We could watch a movie? Hang out?"
His jaw drops. "Did you just invite me into your house? Willingly?"
"You come to my house most mornings before school."
"Yeah, but you don't let me inside ."
She punches his arm, hard. "You drive me crazy when you can't just take a friendly offer without a peppering of a smartass comment."
"You drive me crazy with your remarkably fierce punches." He rubs the spot.
Pulling off the reindeer antlers, Joey slides them back onto Pacey's head.
"If you get us out of here, I solemnly swear not to punch you."
"Ever again?"
She thinks about it. "Best I can do is tonight. I mean, who knows what annoyances tomorrow brings?"
Pacey offers a hand, "Deal."
They shake on it. Pacey removes his tinsel scarf, hanging it back on the tree and disappears, making excuses for their hasty exit, saying goodbyes to everyone.
Just as they are about to make their way out the door to sweet freedom, Keith catches them.
"Are you two going past Screen Play on the way home, by any chance?"
"Um, sure," replies Pacey.
Holding up a finger, Keith disappears into a room, returning with a large cardboard box.
"The wife will kill me if she sees this. More Christmas decorations. I saw them at a yard sale for twenty-five dollars. Can you believe it? A bargain! There is a tree in there and everything, plenty of lights. We can make the store a real paradise next year."
Pacey takes the giant box. It covers his head, impairing his vision. Keith wishes them both a Merry Christmas.
On the way to the car, Pacey walks directly into a Camellia bush.
"You drive me crazy when you let me walk into plants," he mumbles from behind the cardboard.
Joey chuckles.
At the Wagoneer, Pacey deposits the box on the hood, fishing the keys from his pocket. His antlers have slid off the back of his head, down to his neck. Joey reaches out to readjust them.
"You drive me crazy when your antlers are uneven."
"You're really scraping the barrel now."
"I'm just getting warmed up."
On the drive, the back and forth continues. Joey drives Pacey crazy with her scowl face. She retaliates that Pacey drives her crazy with his smart-ass grin.
"You drive me crazy with your fashion sense. I mean, who has that many bowling shirts?"
"It's called style. Look it up. And you can talk, you drive me crazy with the jeans and sweater combos. Throw in a skirt and a tiny top, it wouldn't kill you."
"It's winter!"
He shrugs, "Don't let the temperature dictate fashion, Jo."
Screen Play Video is dark tonight, closed early on account of the party. The windows are decorated with multicolored lights around the rim. In one window sits the plastic tree, in the other is the Men in Black display. Tommy Lee Jones and Will Smith wear Santa hats and their alien-destroying weaponry is covered in tinsel.
"You drive me crazy with your glib manner in class," she says, unlocking the door.
"You drive me crazy that you enjoy school. I mean, who enjoys school?"
Pacey goes into the storeroom with the box, comes back out, grabbing a peppermint from the bowl.
"You drive me crazy when you eat all the peppermints that are meant for the customers."
"They are delicious, and no one said that I can't have the occasional treat."
"Occasional?" Joey says with raised brows.
"You drive me crazy that you're such a stickler for rules. Always with the rules! Sometimes rules are made to be broken."
Joey looks at Pacey in the darkness, takes a deep breath, and speaks before she has a chance to stop herself. "You drove me crazy when you told me you lied about who you wanted to kiss at the party, but didn't tell me the truth."
His head snaps up. "You also lied Jo. I didn't see you offering the truth."
They stare at each other, a silent dare that no one is willing to take.
"Did you really have a sex dream about someone?" Pacey doesn't move from his place beside the counter like it might break this spell.
Joey rolls her eyes. "You drive me crazy when you hound a topic I've clearly said I don't want to divulge."
"It goes both ways, Jo. I'll tell you my secret if you tell me yours."
She shakes her head, adamant, mouth fused closed.
Relief crosses his face.
"You drove me crazy when you told me Dawson wasn't your first kiss, but wouldn't tell me who was."
She stares at him. The darkness has become lighter, eyes adjusted. The blinking lights shine on his cheeks. Their game has ventured further than the safety of playful insults.
Finally, she replies. "That's because it drives me crazy that you can't remember my first kiss."
His eyes crinkle. "Me? I know nothing about your first kiss! That's why I thought it was with Dawson at Will Krudski's' party."
She sighs, making her way toward the door. "Let's go."
"No," he reaches out, taking her arm. "Say it, say what it is you want to say, Jo."
"It's nothing. Ignore it."
"For goodness' sake, just say it!" Pacey is exasperated.
"It drives me crazy that you don't remember that my first kiss-" she takes a steadying breath. "Was with you."
Eyes wide, his body stiffens. "What?"
Turning to leave, Joey pulls at the door handle. "Don't worry about it."
He reaches above her, pressing it closed. "You can't drop that bombshell and then ask me to ignore it, Jo. Explain!"
Shaking her head, Joey starts on another reason, "You drive me crazy when you don't -"
Pacey holds up a hand, interrupting her and ending the game. "You can't say that I was your first kiss with no explanation and then just keep playing!"
"Try me."
"Joey. Please?"
Her back rests against the door, and she succumbs.
"It was at the Leery's Christmas party, the year before my mom died. You, Dawson, and I had been playing with his new video camera, making silly tapes, pretending it would be the next blockbuster. The party was ending, everyone had left, my mom stayed behind chatting with Gale and Mitch. She was tired all the time then, resting on the couch to gather the strength to drive us home.
"We were re-creating a scene from Edward Scissorhands. I was Wynona Ryder; you were Edward. Dawson yelled cut right as we were both beneath the mistletoe. Gale said we had to kiss, that it was tradition. Dawson turned off the video camera and argued that the tradition was archaic. You ignored him, and kissed me."
Pacey locates the memory, letting it sit for a moment before replying.
"But it's mistletoe. I thought that didn't count? It was so quick, barely a peck. And Dawson said that kisses under the mistletoe didn't count, he was adamant that forced kisses didn't count."
Joey bites her lip, her voice cracks. "Well, it counted for me."
Pacey shifts infinitesimally closer. They stand quietly for a moment, the stark nothingness of an empty video store ringing in their ears.
Finally, he says, "You make me crazy because that kiss was my first kiss too, and I just didn't realize it."
Joey hides a smile.
The box is in the storeroom. There is no reason to stay, but their feet have become lead.
He screws up his nose, thinking about the adaptation to his views on the world of first kisses. "I thought my first kiss was with Stella Anderson. In seventh grade, she laid one on me after gym class, in front of everyone. We 'dated' for a week after that, then she dumped me for Steve Monticini."
"He has got incredible hair." Joey is pleased to talk about kisses other than their own,
"Agreed."
"Your hair is nice, too."
"Did you just give me a compliment?"
"No."
"You did! We went from how I drive you crazy to a compliment in minutes."
"I figured I'd throw you a bone."
"Sure."
Joey's eyes are downcast. "I'm sorry I broke the perfect vision of your first kiss."
He shakes his head. "I'm sorry I didn't realize it was. If I'd known, I'd have the good sense to commit it to memory a little better. You know, if only to look back on in my old age, and torture you with the knowledge."
Joey pulls at the door handle. He lets her open it this time, locking it behind them.
"First kisses are notoriously bad. Was I abhorrent? Did my breath smell of too many gingerbread cookies?" he asks.
Joey shakes her head. "I remember nothing offensive about it. It was fine."
"Geez," Pacey balances on the edge of the sidewalk. "Fine. That's exactly how a guy wants his kissing prowess described."
"It was good. It was how any forceable mistletoe interaction is at eleven, I guess. Awkward and short."
He speaks so quietly now, she can barely make out the words. "Can I try it again?"
Joey's face raises to his. " What ?"
"Can I try again? Can I kiss you, and can that be the kiss that you remember your first kiss? Not the mistletoe action with Gale and Mitch watching, not Dawson's truth or dare cheek kiss?"
Joey's voice seems to have disappeared. She clears her throat. "Now?"
He nods, then looks down the street. No cars. Silence.
She takes an inordinate amount of time to form a response. "Like a kiss redemption?"
He nods.
Butterflies in her stomach make her backpedal. "I don't know. It sounds a bit ridiculous."
"Think of it this way. When you're old and gray, your memory won't change. That first kiss will still be with me, but this time it's just us. No pressure, no Dawson, no family watching in ugly Christmas sweaters."
"Won't it make things weird?"
He laughs, the silent kind. "Things are already weird, Jo."
She nods, swallowing a lump that formed in her throat.
Pacey takes a single step toward her.
"Pretend there is mistletoe up there," he points to the stars in the clear sky. They look up, a blanket of black, dotted diamonds in the folds.
He takes another step, waiting until Joey's head drops from the stars, and he kisses her.
It begins like their first kiss did, chaste and brief before it becomes more.
Pacey's hand swoops the base of her skull, tilting her head toward his. Joey's fingers slide up his chest, fluttering against his neck, pulling him closer. Their bodies are flush now, the rustling of their colliding jackets the only sound. Lips pressed together in soft, slow sweeps.
A car's headlights flash against them, interrupting. Squinting, they pull back.
Pacey catches his breath. "Joey Potter, you drive me crazy."
Raising her eyebrows, she waits for him to continue, to list another of her character flaws, but the sentence ends there.
She touches her lips, trying to hide the smile.
"We better go." Pacey looks up the street, climbs in the Wagoneer. The car that disturbed them rumbles past, slow.
In the passenger seat, Joey immediately hits play on the tape deck. Hoping the sound will drown out her thumping heartbeat. Liam Gallagher sings about a Champagne Supernova in the sky.
Key in the ignition, but not turned on, Pacey stares out the windscreen.
Nervous again, Joey babbles. "I'm not sure I'm really getting into this Oasis album. Maybe we should try one of the others?"
She opens the glove compartment and collects a pile of tapes in her lap, reading through the titles.
Pacey doesn't turn and face her, instead pointing to the car, driving slowly, turning left onto Freemont Drive. It travels beneath a streetlight, the red and blue lights on the roof become clear, the sheriff symbol emblazoned across the side in full view.
Her heart sinks.
"You're dad's not working tonight, is he?" Joey asks.
Pacey doesn't need to answer. She can see it in his face.
And suddenly their second kiss became like the first, lost in a greater moment in time, crushed beneath the wheels of a police cruiser.
"Do you still want to come to my house?" Joey's voice can barely be heard over Oasis.
He looks at her then, and nods.