He held the marker over a zero. “And?”
“And it’s a big night. I want to be there for him.” Who knew the next time he’d get a gig like that?
“You can be there. After closing. We all want to go home at a reasonable hour, Nicole.” He plucked his damp white button-down away from his chest. “By the way, if you worked on your positive mental attitude, your sales would reflect that. We need to provide quality service. Part of that ishappilyhelping ourcustomers through all posted hours, even if it’s a holiday, and even if we’re understaffed.”
I crossed my arms and turned so he wouldn’t see me roll my eyes. He didn’t know jack about my finances. Or my attitude. Would he rather I prance around like Cassandra?
I power-walked to the shoe window and shoved a bunch of tissue paper into a ball. I packed it tighter until the crinkles thundered in my ears.
“You okay?” Cassandra whispered.
I clenched my jaw and nodded. It wasn’t her fault, really. I threw the ball into a recycling bin, then dragged a few boxes closer. “You clean the floor. I’ll sort. Then, we can run these back to stock together.”
“Sounds good.” She gave me a thumbs-up and wandered around our section. Every time she bent over to scoop discarded shoes, she mooned me.
I shielded my eyes and shook my head, trying not to laugh. What a way to end the year. At least it was going to start better.
5
Late
Customers were in a frenzy over ‘comfy’ party shoes–as if there was such a thing. Maybe if they’d bought shoes two months ago and broke them in, they wouldn’t be scrambling.
I texted some of my clients on my breaks or when Andre wasn’t around to micromanage me. Going offline for too long wasn’t good for business. I also uploaded a few pics and videos I’d pre-recorded of my ‘NYE foot care routine’ and asked, “What’s your resolution?” Clients loved that. They responded with stuff like, “Make new friends” and “Meet you, sexy ;)” It was so easy to reply, “I’ll be your friend” and vague kissy face and heart emojis. Often, I sent a follow-up like, “how’s your day?” or “what are your plans tonight?”
Part of me wanted to vent about my boss, but for these guys, I wasn’t supposed to have a job any more than I was supposed to have a boyfriend. Clients wanted a fantasy, not the woes of somegirl in a hideous lime-green tee stuck working late at Fancee’s on New Year’s Eve.
I barely had time to reply with a sad face before he launched into a rant. At least he had somewhere to dump his complaints. Plus, it was a few extra dollars for me.
Andre’s footsteps clanged against the stairs from his office. “Nicole,” he called.
I shoved my phone into my pocket. “Yeah?”
“Why is there a size six where the size nine should be?”
“I don’t know.” Hurricane Cassandra, probably.
“You need to be checking sizes,” he said.
“I do.” I might not care about this job, but I still did it properly.
He clambered down to this level and slung his blazer over his shoulder. “Maybe you need to check it twice, then.”
Who did he think I was, Santa Clause? I wasn’t the one who put it in the wrong place. Why did I have to double check everything? Especially on a holiday when he knew I was in a hurry.
“Happy closing.” Andre toasted me with his travel mug full of ‘coffee’ and suckled the dispenser.
“Happy closing.” Jackass.
Everything was easier once he left. I managed to keep our section tidy enough that my department was one of the first to be dismissed by the floor manager. Speeding home, I showered and primped. I had to wash that stock-room mustiness off and lotion up with a tasteful amount of body glitter.
My phone pinged with a normal text instead of one from the fan app.
