and set out on the sales floor couldn’t bring me down. I turned on all the lights, counted the tills,
turned on the stereo a bit louder than corporate would approve of, and got to work. This might have
been the first time I was early enough I didn’t feel like I was fighting an uphill battle on the floor set.
My mood dipped slightly when ten o’clock came and went and I was still on my own. I checked
the schedule, tried calling the slacker who was supposed to be there, and tossed my phone under the
counter when he didn’t answer. It wasn’t surprising, really. Thanks to low pay and the suits in the
corporate office pinching every last penny we made, it was hard to get and keep good help. I’d call
my manager, but she was out of town this week, and I’d rather deal with the fallout from the district
manager once I had the work done. He was a hard ass who didn’t have time for excuses. He’d be
more pissed if the work wasn’t done than he would be once he found out I didn’t call to let him know
I was short-staffed.
I was down to the last stack of new merchandise when a small group of college kids came in. At
first, watching them was out of habit; we’d recently had issues with things going missing and I trusted
no one. But then, two of them caught my eye and I was transfixed. To most people, the smaller one
would have looked sketchy as hell. His gaze didn’t stay in one place for more than a second or two.
He kept picking at the hem of his shirt and biting his bottom lip. Two of the buddies rolled their eyes
and walked away when he muttered something, but the third hung back, placing his hand against the
small of the nervous guy’s back. I felt bad for both of them when the bigger guy realized what he had
done and abruptly pulled his hand back.
He tried to say something, probably apologize for being a dick, but the smaller guy was having
none of it. Good for him. He waved the other guy off and started picking through a shelf of vinyl
bobbleheads. The bigger guy hung back for a minute, and I swore I recognized the regretful look on
his face. It was something about his eyes; they were familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I knew
him from.
“Can I help you find anything?” I asked as I approached the two of them, hoping to break the
tension that even I could feel.
“Oh, I was…” The guy waved a hand in the general direction of the shelf he’d just been
rummaging through.
“Is there a particular Pop you’re looking for?” I heard the buddies who had wandered off
snickering. That pissed me off, but it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Some people didn’t
