Career Tip #2 - Be a little early (or at least on time)
Don't be late to work. Showing up a few minutes early, or right on time shows your employer that you're dependable and responsible. And that's the impression you want to make.
Pacey is late.
It's 4:17.
Joey watches the clock. Each revolution of the minute hand tells her he's not coming. His plan to force her to quit abandoned. The thought of being in her proximity for an extended amount of time is enough to make him throw in the towel.
The door chimes. Joey's head whips up. She frowns.
It's not Pacey. Just a teenager, a familiar face from the corridors of Capeside high. She gives a halfhearted smile. He walks over to New Releases.
4:18.
Joey rewinds a returned Parent Trap.
4:19
She checks the register for change.
4:20
Joey makes a deal with herself. Do not watch the clock. Don't glance at it, don't think about it. Do. Not. Think. About. Him.
He's not coming. You can do this alone. It's not rocket science. Joey Potter is used to a three or four-plate stack at the Icehouse in summer. This is nothing.
4:21
He strolls in the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, a sheepish grin.
Joey relaxes, bites down a smile. "Here I was worried that you've concocted some diabolical plan to make me quit, and instead you're fast-tracking your own firing."
Ambling behind the counter, Pacey throws his bag through the back office door. He slides on his vest.
"I knew you'd be lying in wait, sitting on your high horse, ready to pounce. Predictable, Josephine."
"I'm going to assume that if I was this late, it would be reported to Keith, and I'd be turning in this bewitching vest."
Pacey nods, agreeing. "Probably."
"Well, why are you so late?" She points to the clock.
"Give me a break. It's fifteen minutes. I'm sure you held down the fort, Miss Capable."
"Twenty-One minutes!"
Using the reflection in the computer monitor as a mirror, he runs fingers through his hair. "I think Dawson will inform you that twenty-one minutes late is hardly a record."
"Where were you?"
"Relax Nancy Drew. I was momentarily detained," he shrugs and nudges her arm playfully.
She shies away from his touch with a scowl.
"Where?"
"With Mr. Watkins."
"So detained as in detention?"
"It was extra credit work," he offers, the excuse weak.
"Sure."
Joey is impatient. "So, what's your devious plan? "
He adjusts his vest, so it's sitting open, just so. Pacey's grin is wide, happy that he got under her skin.
"Why do you assume it's devious?
"You're trying to make me quit, right?"
"I don't think I'm going to have to try very hard. By the end of one shift, you were seething. I feel my existence is probably sufficient motivation for a career change. Sure, I might pepper a few bonus irritants when the situation presents itself, but otherwise, don't flatter yourself that I spend my evenings plotting your departure."
Joey shakes her head, unconvinced. "So you figured one hundred percent pure, unadulterated Pacey would be enough to tip me over the edge?"
His eyebrows raise. "It is your kryptonite."
"I expected more from you."
He sighs, tired. "Is the chastising Pacey part of the day finished? Can I begin work now?"
"I'd argue that your description of work is questionable, but yes. I will refrain from further critique."
"Thank god for that." He salutes and walks into the back office.
Joey serves customers and wonders what on earth Pacey is doing back there? But she doesn't open the door to check.
Eventually, he comes out and throws something in her direction. She catches it before it crashes into the Awakening poster behind her.
She turns a hand over to inspect the item.
It's a button. Newly pressed.
It reads My name is Joey .
"I tried to do Josephine, but it cut off the phine and you were just Joseph, so I figured Joey would do."
She takes off the My name is Dawson button and throws it into the trash. Pulling out her vest, she pins it on her left side.
"So, I'm official now?" she asks.
Pacey grumbles to himself and walks away.
When Joey is peeling the wrapper off a granola bar, Dawson enters Screen Play Video with Jennifer Lindley.
Pacey scrambles over to them, pleased to abandon his task of setting up the Hunchback of Notre Dame cardboard cut-out display. Quasimodo's head lies grotesquely on the carpet, forgotten.
"Dawson, buddy, pal, please tell me you're here to take back your old position?" His arm falls over Dawson's shoulder, eyebrows raised expectantly.
"Sorry, Pacey. I put a hold on Fargo, just coming to collect."
"You know," Pacey offers while collecting the case from the stack of holds. "If you worked here, you would have no need for holds. Just take whatever you want, first dibs on all the new releases and ten percent off rentals. Don't forget the privilege of working with your best and most handsome friend."
Dawson laughs, brushing off Pacey's pleas.
"Hey Joey," Jen smiles.
"Hey," she offers a cool reply.
Pacey doesn't relent with Dawson. "I don't understand. What did I do? Was it the running late, or the leaving early?"
"You didn't do anything, Pacey. It was time for me to move on, focus on my studies, get serious with filmmaking."
Pacey stares directly at Jen, says "Hello studies," and waves with a broad grin.
Jen waves back, shaking her head.
"I'm just as surprised as you are that Joey took the job. And look at you two," Dawson scans the floor, "Not even a drop of blood! I thought for sure Joey would have inflicted minor wounds, but it appears all extremities are in working order."
Joey glares at Pacey, who is checking his arms and legs for injuries, and says, "It's only the second shift. Plenty of time."
"Just because I am whole does not mean daggers haven't been thrown." Pacey holds a hand over his heart and speaks as though he's reciting Shakespeare. "The mental scars are invisible, but last forever."
Joey's eyes flare and she takes a warning step toward Pacey. He backs into the cash register and throws her a glittering smile. He's close. Too close.
The space that separates them seems important somehow. When it's gone, Joey feels unhinged.
She moves away from him as quickly as possible.
"Peace! Let's not bicker, dear. We have guests!" says Pacey.
Joey rolls her eyes.
Pacey redirects to the couple before them, "So what's happening in the after-school dating world? Splitting a milkshake at the diner? Makeout sessions before the parents get home? Light groping? Are we still over the clothes, or have we progressed to under-shirt action?"
Dawson cringes, flushed.
When Dawson can't recover from the embarrassment of Pacey's comment, Jen answers. "Tonight's date is movie night."
"That tracks," Pacey says under his breath. Joey stifles a laugh.
Pacey scans Fargo and enters Dawson's card number, which he knows by heart. Joey resumes her position beside Pacey, watching the couple behind the counter.
"Well, nothing spells Romance with a capital R like the Midwest and body parts in the woodchipper," Pacey passes the video into Dawson's waiting hand.
"We're planning to branch out from the movie screen to play mini-golf on Sunday if you wanna join?" Jen asks.
Joey offers a bewildered stare.
"Me?" she inquires, "Or him?" a thumb points to Pacey.
"Both of you," Jen replies.
"Yeah, come along," adds Dawson with little conviction.
Pacey looks like he's scrambling for an excuse, and for once, is silent.
"Like a double date?" Joey asks in disbelief.
"Well, no, like a group of friends hitting tiny balls into holes," says Dawson.
"What I think they're trying to say, is that we would be like a third wheel… and a forth as well?" Pacey explains, but it does little to clear up the confusion.
Joey pulls her vest tight around her. "I'm busy Sunday, but feel free to take this one along," she gestures to Pacey. "He knows plenty about tiny balls, and being a third wheel."
Pacey ignores her. "Sure, count me in. I might even bring a date."
Joey blinks. It is here where she should insert a snide comment, but Pacey has a date?
"Sounds good," says Dawson.
Pacey exits their shared space behind the counter and takes Dawson's arm to divert him to a private conversation in the Thrillers aisle. Joey strains to listen, but their voices dip and the bell chimes to announce more customers. Jen hovers awkwardly, unmoved, watching Joey.
"Dawson has a very specific choice in movies," she says after a minute or two of silence.
"He does. Very specific," Joey half smiles.
"Sometimes I could really go for a good romantic comedy, you know?"
Joey shakes her head. "You will never catch Dawson watching Sleepless in Seattle if that's what you're thinking. He only abides by Tom Hanks in dramatic performances."
Jen chuckles.
"Would you be interested in hanging out sometime? I'd love to watch a movie that doesn't claim the accolade of five stars in the New York Times?"
"You and me?" Joey clarifies.
"Yeah. Since arriving, I haven't really found any willing female confidants. We could eat too much ice cream, and watch crappy rom-coms. Hang out."
"I'm not sure I'm a slumber party, nail painting kind of girl," Joey points to her clothes and holds up her plain hands to make a point of it.
"We don't have to paint nails, or talk boys, or even pillow fight," says Jen.
Joey hesitates for a moment before replying with a wary, "Sure. A night without a member of the male sex sounds refreshing."
Jen smiles, Joey reciprocates as she fiddles with the new button on her vest.
Pacey laid the bait with his offhand comment.
Cheese rests upon the open trap. Joey is a mouse. She knows she should resist, but boredom, or curiosity, finally makes her take a swipe at it, definitely not her unsettling feelings towards Pacey Witter.
"So, who's the unlucky girl?" She asks, nonchalantly, after a family leaves, balancing a precarious pile of every Jean-Claude Van Damme movie ever made.
Pacey chuckles, glancing at his watch. "Nineteen minutes."
"What?"
"I knew you'd ask. I was just wondering how long until you mustered the courage."
" Courage? You're kidding, right? I couldn't be any less interested in your love life. But there isn't exactly a bucket load of things to do here on a Thursday night. I was hoping you telling me would kill at least five minutes. Whatever, Dawson will tell me later."
"Sure."
Joey regards him, and the possibility dawns on her. "You don't have anyone, do you?"
"Your interest in my love life is appreciated, Jo, but unwarranted."
"I think you might want to rephrase that to imaginary love life."
"Spoken by a girl desperately pining after her attached best friend. That's why you didn't want to third or fourth wheel, right? The thought of witnessing their budding romance in the flesh was too much to take."
"No. Any more time with you is too much to take."
"I gotta be honest. It was a bad idea. You. Me. Golf clubs." Pacey shudders.
Joey taps her chin. "Hmm, now that you mention it, maybe I'll reconsider."
"Okay, so you say you're not into Dawson. Who has stolen your heart, then? Surely there is someone who incites bodice ripping in little Joey Potter."
She looks down at her flannel shirt, making an exaggerated eye roll. "You act as though Capeside High churns out a never-ending parade of perfect male specimens."
"Come on. Humor me. If I am to be convinced that Dawson is a mere blip on your radar, there must be someone else. Every red-blooded teen has some unsuspecting classmate to lust over."
Joey searches the recesses of her mind for an option that would both satisfy Pacey and not be a completely unlikely choice.
"Aaron Charleston isn't bad."
Pacey's face contorts. Her option fails its landing.
"If your type is a long-haired Backstreet Boy with moderate intellect who will serenade you on a badly tuned guitar with a ballad he wrote at recess. All will be fine until he realizes that the only thing he can make rhyme with Joey, is doughy."
"You are an idiot. Joey rhymes with snowy ."
"I never want to hear this song," Pacey deadpans.
"Is the kind of guy who would write me a song such a bad thing?"
"Yes! Aaron Charleston will bore you to death, Joey Potter."
Joey throws up her arms. "So you think I should want Dawson instead?"
"I'm not saying that."
"Then what are you saying?"
"I'm saying it's okay to be upset that he's with Jen. Sometimes you don't get what you want. You don't have to deny it. I can't see any logical reason for you to be working here if it wasn't to either try to forget about Dawson or lure him to you."
"This is ridiculous," Joey is exasperated. She walks to the back of the store, Pacey follows her.
"Quit following me."
"You don't have dibs on the storeroom."
She groans, trying to find a corner, somewhere, anywhere that Pacey isn't.
"Why do you care if I like, or don't like Dawson, or Aaron, or anyone for that matter? It's of no consequence to you."
"I don't care."
"Good. Great. Then drop it."
"I don't know if you have realized, but this isn't exactly the busiest workplace. Entertainment options are few and far between."
"So annoying me, is your new entertainment? Pestering me until I crack?"
"Precisely."
"And is this all to make me quit? Relentless pursuit on the subject of my nonexistent love life? You're going to have to do better than that. I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."
He taps his chin. "So, if annoyance won't do it, or tardiness either, I'll have to delve into my bag of tricks next week."
Pacey's backside finds its favorite position on the chair and he flips open a catalog of upcoming titles soon to be released to video.
A girl comes in. She's around their age. Blonde hair, tight jeans, beautiful. Joey motions with her head.
"Why don't you ask her out on your mini golf date?"
Glancing up from the catalog Pacey looks at the girl in question and scrunches up his nose. "She doesn't strike me as the golf type."
"You're right, putting seems like too difficult a concept for her to grasp."
Pacey asks voice lowered, "What am I supposed to do? Oh, hi, I really recommend My Best Friend's Wedding and how do you feel about mini golf ?"
"I thought you were a regular Casanova at work? You didn't want me to rain on your parade, remember? Turns out you're too scared to approach members of the opposite sex."
"That's ridiculous! I'm waiting."
"For what?" Joey asks.
"I don't know, the right moment, with the right girl to present itself."
Joey delivers a shrewd stare. "Well, you've got three days to find a date. Best of luck to you for vetting teenagers who seem like the golf type in Capeside."
The girl wanders the aisles, selects Reality Bites, and brings the case to Pacey at the counter. Joey focuses on putting Quasimodo together, attaching his head to the cardboard body. She holds her breath while they talk, keeping silent so she can hear every word spoken, in case he changes his mind.
He asks her for the $2 rental fee. She pays and leaves. Mini golf is never mentioned.
Joey breathes again.
Joey restocks the popcorn supply. Pacey doodles cartoon animals on scraps of paper. Joey runs a feather duster over the window display. Pacey flips to the last page of his paperback and huffs at the reveal.
The evening passes by in a quiet amble.
Joey rubs her eyes. The fluorescent lighting makes them sting. Pacey vacuums the floor, whipping the cord around behind him.
Finally, 9 pm comes and they look at the clock with relief.
Pacey locks the door. Bessie is already waiting out the front.
"Well, your lateness didn't make me quit, so I'll count this as another successful shift," Joey says with a satisfied smile.
"I'll be on time Saturday, don't you worry. All the more time to annoy you, my dear," he says.
"Hmm, I'll take that back. Feel free to come in as late as you want, or not at all. I'll be fine and dandy all alone!" Joey yells out as she jumps into Bessie's car and slams the door before she can hear his response.
On Saturday, Pacey is late, again.
Only four minutes, but it doesn't stop Joey from tapping her wristwatch when he walks through the door and shaking her head.
"Spare me the lecture, Potter."
"No need. I'm noting it in my diary. Proof of repeated tardiness as protection against any onslaught that may befall me with management."
"Give me a break. Dearest Dad wouldn't let me borrow the car today, or give me a lift, so I had to walk."
"Why?"
"Apparently withholding access to vehicles is a standard punishment for an F in science."
"An F!?" Joey is shocked.
"Yes. F as in fail. I'm sure you've never sighted below a B minus before." He points to her face. "That look of shock is the exact reaction that my parents gave last night upon viewing my report card."
"Geez, Pace, do you need some help?" Joey's voice is soft.
"From you ?" He asks, surprise in his tone.
"Yes, from me. You sit around most of your shift doing nothing. At the very least, I could tutor you while you're here, so it looks as though you're doing something productive."
"Hmm. Reproach from you in both my work and school life. I think I'll pass."
"Suit yourself."
He pulls on his vest.
Pacey drags himself through the day. He stays behind the register, glancing up from his paperback to scan videos and temporarily slide a smile across his lips, only for it to disappear when the customer's back is turned.
Joey works the floor, tidies the shelves, helps the customers locate obscure titles. Her eyes find their way back to Pacey, checking on him, waiting for the inevitable baiting quip or snide remark. But it doesn't come, he just reads.
When she can't take the silence a moment longer, she snaps at him.
"Is being terrible at your job a badge of honor? Were you like this with Dawson, or is this apathy reserved for me?"
Pacey's head jerks up from his novel. "I'm sorry, did I mistake working a couple of days a week at a Video Store with brain surgery? It may come as a surprise to you, but sometimes it's okay to just do what is required of you. There is no extra credit here, Joey, no bonuses for putting away more videos, or stacking the popcorn just so . I come to work, I serve the customers with a smile, and go home. Well, that's what I used to do, anyway. Now, as an added bonus, I get to deal with you scolding me on the side. Can't say that serves as encouragement to arrive on time."
"Grow up, Pacey. Work is like school. You put in the effort and you pass. How's that working out with your science class? Not great. You want me to quit, but I could get you fired in one conversation with Keith if I wanted to."
"So do it," Pacey challenges.
Joey bristles. "I'm not going to do that."
"Well, then stop berating me. If you want to be top of the video store class, be my guest. You can be valedictorian of VHS for all I care. I'll be the loser, the guy in the back of the class that makes the occasional joke and hands in the assignment late for a subpar grade. I'm okay with that. You need to be too."
"That is the thing Pacey, I don't understand why you're that guy."
"Why I'm the loser?" he's baffled by the question.
"That's your problem. You think you're the loser. You play the role, you act up in class, but you're not a loser. Dare I say these words out loud, but you're smart."
"My grades would beg to differ."
"Your grades are reflective of your attitude, Pacey, not your ability. I've known you since kindergarten. You hide your brain behind bravado and wisecracks."
"You're reaching." He shakes his head, but his eyes remain on hers.
"Suit yourself, Pace. Keep failing at school, be indifferent in the workplace. See how that works out for you in the long run. I promise you it's going to give you the exact life you predict."
He doesn't reply, eyes still holding hers, unreadable. His stare borders on too much. Too much eye contact for too long. She looks away.
The closing credits of Anastasia hum on the television. Joey collects another tape, changes it to Dunstan Checks In, and presses play.
After a handful of customers and half an hour of silence between them, Joey finally speaks.
"I'm serious about helping you, Pace."
He considers her, "Are you saying this so I will come to rely on you and refrain from making you quit?"
She smiles. "No. But it sounds like added incentive."
"Will you admonish me for not knowing what Pd is on the periodic table?"
"It's Palladium, and I'm not going to lie, I probably will, yes." Joey answers without hesitation.
Pacey laughs, fingers drumming the counter, considering her offer.
Joey says, "I can't promise an A, or even a B, but I think we could get you to a solid C with some effort. And we're here together, anyway. We may as well make the most of it."
"Okay, I'd appreciate it. Should I call you Miss. Potter?"
"Joey will suffice," she says.
"Joey," he repeats slowly, letting her name fill his mouth.
She goes back to checking the returns.
Screen Play Video is dark, the doors are locked. Pacey and Joey stand on the empty sidewalk.
"Have fun on your double date tomorrow," says Joey as Bessie's car rolls into a parking space.
Pacey zips up his jacket, "I've decided to third wheel."
"Translation, you couldn't scrounge up a date in time," says Joey.
He pats her on the head. "You never know who I might meet at mini-golf?"
Pacey starts to walk down the street. Joey hauls herself into the passenger seat, pressing her fingers against the warm vents.
"Why is Pacey walking?" Bessie asks.
"He lost his vehicle privileges."
Bessie drives up beside him while Joey grabs Bessie's arm and directs a stern, "No!" which she ignores.
Bessie winds down the window.
"Need a lift?" she asks.
He glances at Joey's grimace before answering. "No. I'm fine to walk."
"See, he's fine," Joey confirms, motioning for Bessie to depart.
Bessie ignores them both. "Get in the car, Pacey."
He takes a breath and obeys, climbing in the back, behind Joey. Joey doesn't turn around, her eyes focused on the windshield.
"How long are you banned from driving?" Bessie asks, pulling out onto the road, watching him in the rearview mirror.
Pacey shrugs, "I can't imagine it will last long. Deputy Doug doesn't have the time to be offering delinquents a ride. He's busy with all the Capeside crime-solving, you know."
"Good, because I have a favor to ask," replies Bessie.
"A favor?"
"How would you feel about dropping off Joey after work? As much as I love her, I'm getting more and more tired and my desire to pull myself off the sofa and collect teenagers at 9 pm is minimal," she rubs her rounded belly for effect.
Joey glares at Bessie from the passenger seat.
"Sure thing." Pacey doesn't hesitate. "As long as Joey is happy to keep working, I'm happy to drive."
"I'll walk," Joey says.
"You will not walk home at night, " Bessie replies. "And that is final."
Pacey grabs the back of her seat, his head appearing between the sisters.
"I'll take good care of her, Bess, promise," he turns to grin at Joey, teeth exposed. He is close. He smells like the peppermint candies that he steals from the counter.
"I am not getting in a car with him," Joey doubles down.
"I'll play nice," says Pacey.
Joey tries to back herself into the farthest reaches of her seat to get away from him. He's so close in Bessie's hatchback, too close, his eyes watching her. Confined spaces give her nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. The peppermint scent of his breath is making her lose focus. They cannot ride home together this close after every shift, they simply cannot.
"No!"
"Yes," says Bessie.
"Okay, fine. I'll quit!" says Joey, exasperated, her back against the door.
Paceys' mouth drops. It is not the delight Joey anticipated. He's confused. Blue eyes darken, forcing her to look back at him. He blinks. Perfect eyelashes.
"Come on Jo, I expected more from you. Where's the tenacity? The fire? You can't quit after a week. You're a fighter!" he says.
"Has that not been your entire plan from the moment I stepped into the building? Get Joey to quit? I'm doing exactly what you wanted!"
"Yes. But it's you . I never thought you would actually do it. If there is anything Joey Potter doesn't do, it's listen to me!"
"She's not quitting." Bessie shakes her head, a definitive no. She's watching Joey, watching Pacey. "Think about college, about how useful that money will be. You're not quitting over Pacey giving you a lift home. That is ridiculous."
Joey uncrosses her arms. "Fine. Whatever. I'll be there Tuesday."
"And you'll let Pacey drive you home? To give your poor, pregnant sister a much-needed break?"
"Yes. Yes. Fine." She mumbles.
Pacey smiles wide, nudges Joey's shoulder. "What was that? I didn't hear you?"
Joey glares at him. "Fine! Yes, you can take me home."
He chuckles. "You and me in the Witter Wagoneer, who'd have thunk it?"
He's baiting her again, she knows. She closes her eyes to avoid the trap.
They pull up outside Pacey's house.
"Goodnight Pacey," says Bessie.
"Goodnight ladies. Thanks again for the ride, Bess."
Joey mumbles a farewell.
He closes the door, and the women watch him walk up his driveway. When he's safely inside, Bessie turns to Joey.
"A thank you will suffice," she smiles.
"For what ?"
"For orchestrating extended time with him."
"Bess, we barely survive the time we have together! And, as I told you, my comment was a slip of the tongue. I'm over that momentary brain malfunction that made me think I might like him."
Bessie indicates, pulling back onto the road.
"That's curious," she says.
"What? What is curious?" Joey demands.
"That you're no longer interested."
"Why?"
Bessie keeps her eyes on the road. "Because the look on his face when you said you were quitting told me that he is, most definitely, interested in you."
Joey swats at Bessie, turns to face out the window, hiding the head-to-toe blush that tickles her skin. "You're insane. Pregnancy has turned your brain to mush."
"That may be so, but I saw what I saw."
Joey shakes her head, focuses on the houses streaming past them. She bites her lip, keeps her breathing steady. Because, just maybe, she saw that look, too.