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CHAPTER FOUR
AMBER
I enjoy working at Macy’s. The accessory department isn’t too bad. We’re paid a flat hourly rate plus a percentage of sales. A tiny percentage. Hey, I’ll take what I can get.
The girls who work here are a little catty and cliquey, which means I have made no friends. They’re also all gorgeous. Every one of them. So, you can imagine how I must feel when one of them stands next to me. Less than blah.
It’s a good weekend job and better than the alternative, waitressing in a jam-packed bar. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. This is just easier with a lot less ass-grabbing. Here I only have to deal with women who gripe about particular purse sizes or scarf colors not being in stock. I can handle that.
This Saturday morning, after stocking the shelves with the new can’t-find-anywhere-else handbags, I observe a man wandering into my section, looking completely lost.
I study him, surprised no other salesperson has snatched him up yet. He’s something else. Over six feet tall and fit. It takes discipline and dedication to look that great. He’s dressed in a white T-shirt and blue jeans. His hair is blond, which I’m normally not into but could be for this guy.
My gaze drops to his wrist. He’s wearing a Patek Phillippe watch and the price for one of those runs anywhere from twelve thousand five hundred up past two million. I know this because I recently saw an ad for them while thumbing throughCosmo. I glimpse at his eyes, and they’re nothing short of spectacular. What a dreamboat.
He stops and combs through a rack of scarves. I walk over to him. “Can I help you, sir?” I straighten a purse on a shelf next to him.
He turns his attention to me.
I smile.
He takes a long moment to answer. “Trying to find a gift for my mother.”
For some people, the closer you are, the better they look. May I present to you exhibit A. This man is spectacular up close. And waaay out of my league.
“Okay,” I say to him. “Do you have anything in mind?”
He shrugs and shakes his head and doesn’t answer. He seems the type who would be more assertive and decisive. But he’s not, and it’s kind of cute.
“What does your mother like to do? Any hobbies?”
Instead of answering, he grins, and my knees go weak. Would I ever like to… I pull myself together. “Sir?”
“She likes to garden and cook.”
Now I need to think of something quick because if he keeps looking at me this way, I’ll turn into a puddle of goo. An idea comes to mind. I ask him to follow.
His eyes are boring into me as I lead him through my area and into the kitchen department. Still wondering why one of the other girls who work here hasn’t swooped in and stuck their talons into him. Thought they all sensed these things.
We make it to the back corner, where I pick up the herb window garden kit and hand it to him. I’m now second-guessing my choice. It’s an inexpensive item and way below the price point I would expect someone like him to pay. I wait for his decision.
He doesn’t react right away. Then he smiles, and I feel relief.
“This is perfect. She’ll love it.” That’s all the thanks I need.
He gives me the kit, so I can ring it up, but it’s immediately snatched from my hands.
I hadn’t noticed Stacey, a senior sales associate and queen of the mean girls’ club, hovering around us. I stand by submissively as she tells me this isherdepartment andshe’llbe taking care of him. Standing up to Stacey isn’t a good idea because she can make life miserable and even get me fired.
I tell the hunk that I hope his mother likes the gift and trudge back to my floor. He seems like such a great guy. Too bad I’ll never meet him again.
