Читать книгу Tiger Lilly - Sharon Vander Meer - Страница 5

Lilly wasn’t late but close. She’d had to make herself settle down and drive carefully. As angry as she’d been when she left home she could easily have mowed down anyone who crossed her path. She was sorry Luke had witnessed her automotive temper tantrum. Well, not just Luke; she wouldn’t have wanted anyone to see her behave in such a manner. She still represented Harve in this town and didn’t want people to think the preacher’s widow was a crazy person.

She pulled into the employee parking area, all the way across the lot from the store itself. Snow or sleet, rain or shine, empty parking lot or full, it bordered on sacrilege to park in a designated “customer parking” space, which included everything remotely close to ShopMart’s front door.

By the time she reached the employee canteen—a generous term for a room containing four rickety knock-together tables surrounded by scabby plastic chairs, an apartment-sized refrigerator, and a broken microwave—she was right on the minute for clocking in. Granted, she was huffing like an overheated buffalo, but the imprint on her card said 0900 just like it was supposed to.

“Hey, Mrs. Reverent Lilly, you look frazzled.”

Lilly pulled in a wuffling breath and put on her best smile. In this case it was sincere. Marco Sanchez, the mentally challenged janitor for the store, regarded her with his customary happy grin. Frazzled was the newest word in his vocabulary and he used it as often as possible.

“Hey, Marco, I’ve had quite the morning. So I look frazzled do I?” She stepped in front of a cloudy mirror someone had stuck to the ladies’ room door. He was right. She did look frazzled. At some point she must have run her hand through her hair, pulling the tidy bun loose. Her tennis shoes squeaked on the cheap linoleum floor as she headed to her locker. She put her purse away and poked ineffectually at her hair.

“How are you doing today, Marco? Got big plans?”

“I got plans, Mrs. Reverent Lilly, I got bigplans.”

It was the same conversation they had every day Lilly worked. She felt inadequate to the task but wanted to somehow let Marco know she thought he was someone who had a day full of things to do. Everyone else either ignored him or played jokes on him, all—they said—in the name of good fun.

“You take care now,” she said as she left him to his work.

ShopMart was a big box store knock-off, with lower prices and cheaper goods. When Michael had heard that description of her workplace he’d scoffed, “What? Instead of having real cheap merchandise they just have pictures of cheap merchandise?” Michael the successful car dealer—Irish Auto Sales, Your Lucky Deal on the Best Cars in Town—was quite put out that his stepmother was working in a ShopMart. It was fortunate he lived in the city otherwise he’d be bugging her about it all the time.

“I need the money,” she’d told him reasonably, “and with my limited skills and at my age, ShopMart is the only place that will hire me.”

“But you have Dad’s insurance, and his Social Security. If you need more, I’llgive it to you!”

Not if she could help it. How little he knew, and she wasn’t about to tell him. Instead she said it was a social outlet; she got to see all her friends. Baloney. Most of the people she knew wouldn’t set foot inside ShopMart. In fact they were more likely to be outside picketing the place because the company paid lousy wages, shuffled through quite a lineup of undocumented workers, and sold products reportedly made by the hands of what amounted to slave laborers for pennies a day. The people at church were horrified that she would consent to work in such a place. Like her stepson, they didn’t have a clue. She needed to work and this was the only place that would hire her.

“There you are! You’re late.” The speaker was a reedy, seedy looking man with black-rimmed glasses too big for his face. He wore his thin hair in a comb-over that everyone in the store made fun of. There must have been a time in his life when he was somewhat appealing. He had a plump, pretty wife and seven, count ‘em, seven,attractive children. With relationships you just plain never knew. Look at her and Harve. Many a person had wondered what he saw in her.

“Mr. Givens, I am not late, I’m on time. The reason you think I’m late is that I’m always early but you don’t let me clock in until my shift starts, yet you make me work anyway.” Of course she didn’t say that, what she said was, “I clocked in right on the minute. What can I do for you?”

He squinted at her from behind the wall of lenses perched on his nose. “Aisle 15 is a mess. Get over there and get it straightened out.”

“I will be happy to do that, Mr. Givens, but here is a copy of my schedule. Please initial that you reassigned me so Mr. Gomez understands why I’m not in his department as indicated on the schedule.”

Givens blew out an exasperated breath as though the schedule was a consequence of her stupidity.

“Never mind, and don’t think for a minute I won’t check your time card!” He jogged away. Givens jogged everywhere. Maybe that’s why he was so skinny.

When Arturo Gomez came upon her later in the morning, he stood watching her with his hands on his hips, a frown creasing his forehead.

“You’re lifting heavy boxes again, Lilly. I have told you to call me when you need help.”

She stood on the rolling platform balancing an unwieldy box that held steering wheel covers.

“I’m fine,” came her muffled reply. She squeezed the box onto the shelf between two others, dusted off her hands and came down the ladder pushing up her glasses as she did so.

“Have you had your break?”

“Oh, you know me, Mr. Gomez. I don’t like to take breaks, especially today. I need to get home as soon as possible.” If she didn’t take her fifteen-minute break and didn’t take lunch, and if the store wasn’t busy when it was nearly time for her to leave, she could clock out before her shift ended. She did everything possible to keep from thinking about what must be happening to her poor house. At least Annie hadn’t called so apparently no disaster had occurred. She hoped.

“I understand. Thank you for doing such an excellent job of restocking the shelves.”

Mr. Gomez always said thank you. Mr. Givens and some of the other department supervisors generally found a reason to criticize as if by doing so they were flexing their managerial muscles. Lilly much preferred working with Mr. Gomez.

“Is everything all right?” he asked.

“What?”

“You seem not yourself today.”

She wasn’t quite sure why she did it (sharing confidences with co-workers had never been her thing), but she said, “My niece and her children have come to stay with me. This is their first day here.”

“Ah! Family! There is nothing like family.”

Lilly’s nose twitched.“Well, I best get back to work. I won’t have this all out before another shipment comes in.” They both laughed politely. It was a done-to-death, and not at all funny joke at ShopMart: the never-ending cycle of merchandise.

As it turned out Billy Givens made sure she didn’t get out early. He insisted she help housewares finish putting out a box of fall décor items. She’d thought she was long past letting him get on her nerves. Today his rude bossiness tried her patience more than usual. By the time she was out the door and on her way home she was steaming.

She thought of all the things she could—maybe should—have said, but they all boiled down to the childish, “You’re not the boss of me!” she’d heard kindergartners say in Sunday school. But of course, he was the boss of her while she was at ShopMart.