Mom had texted me again too. But she was still on a muted thread.
I wished Angel could meet them at their best. Or that I could share my newfound joy with them. But until Jen came to her senses or my parents gave her consequences, I had to keep my distance. I didn’t even feel guilty about it.
Returning to the sales floor, I clocked Meg playing on her phone behind the cashier’s desk. Was her mom okay with that on slow shifts? Or was Meg more lenient about the rules?
I patrolled the front of the store, trying to keep the ache out of my feet by moving. Leaning against displays was frowned upon, and the underwear bins were as sorted as possible. I couldn’t ‘tidy the dressing rooms’ again without at least one customer using them.
Meandering behind a mannequin, I peeked at my phone.
He sent me a screenshot of urban dictionary for ‘cake,’ and I burst out laughing.
A woman across the display startled at the sound with a gasp.
Whoops. Guess I hid a little too well back here. I didn’t even realize someone had walked in.
“Hi, welcome to The Closette. Can I help you find anything?” My smile froze when I stepped out to greet the guest.
It was my mother.
My mom was in The Intimate Closette.
She clutched her long coat, her gaze dropping to the phone in my hands. The same one I’d been ignoring her on while giggling behind a mannequin with heart pasties on its breasts.
She smoothed her jacket and offered me a stiff smile. “Hi. How are you?”
“Fine,” I said.
Meg strolled within eavesdropping distance, sneaking peeks at us and her phone. Was she texting her mom about me?
The last thing I needed was another critique.
I crossed my arms, then uncrossed them. “We have a promotion on underwear right now. Buy three, get one free.”
Mom shook her head. “I’m here for you, Tori.”
“I’m working,” I whispered.
She hunched closer and lowered her voice. “You think I wanted to have this conversation in public? Next to mannequins in underwear? You won’t respond to my messages, and we can’t drop by Kat’s place uninvited.”
“That doesn’t mean you can visit us at work. Imagine if I came into one of your house showings to hash out an argument.”
“I know, it’s just…” She tilted her head at the sequined pasties. “Do people really buy these things?”
I rolled my eyes and guided her toward a more conservative display. “I’m not ready to talk to Jen.”
“Talk to me, instead.”
I gestured to the store. “Again, I’m working, so unless you plan to buy something, this isn’t the time for chit-chat.”
