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The front door jingles as Tim runs.
I look down at the card he left me, with its promise of a rocking good time and ten percent off the twenty-dollar admission. A two-dollar savings. Wow.
Jesus.
Is this as good as it gets? Are my romantic choices limited to cheapskate Tim and his dirty-mouthed bird, or a dork named Deck, who picks his nose in public?
Is this all you’re going to give me, Universe?
4
LIVVY
I never expectedPawsh Pets to be a goldmine. Sure, Swarovski-studded dog collars and cashmere cat beds fetch a pretty penny, but you can only sell so many. The pet food flies out the door, but it’s got a much lower margin to compete with Pet Outlet and huge stores like that. Which is fine. All I ever wanted was to earn enough to cover the store’s rent, keep the merchandise fresh, and pay myself a livable wage for getting by in New York City. I don’t think that’s too much to ask. I’ve never had dreams of owning a weekend getaway like so many New Yorkers, and travel isn’t really my thing. Hell, I’m pretty much tied to the store anyway, especially with a flaky assistant like Jewel. She’s great and all. She works hard when she’s here.
The key is,when she’s here.
I know I provide an important service to the neighborhood. I even got written up in the paper last year as one of the top ten pet stores in the city. Of course, I had to contact a hundred of my customers to vote for me, but it was really fun to see Pawsh Pets in the paper. It boosted business, and I was super busy for a while.
Some might think, like my sister and brother-in-law, the Kritters, that the things I sell are silly and frivolous. Maybe they are, but I also help find homes for a lot of dogs and cats from the local animal shelter. Of course, the Kritters get pets only from breeders, so they don’t even consider my volunteerism important, hard as that is to believe.
And now, as the end of the business day approaches, I stop rearranging merchandise and take a seat at my desk to get ready for the only part of the job I don’t like—facing the bills.
It isn’t cheap to run a business in New York, and over the last couple weeks I’ve seen more money going out the door than coming in. I’m not panicking—I’m sure it’s just the time of year or something. The big-box pet store across town could never take away any of my business.
Actually, I’m not sure about that. Not sure at all.
I kick my shoes off in my little office, which is really just a storage closet stacked high with inventory, and stare down at what feels like a mountain of invoices. And late notices.
Yes, late notices.
Maybe I can just drop them all into my desk drawer and pretend they don’t exist.
Great idea, Livvy.
With more bills to pay than cash in my checking account, I do exactly that, at least for the time being. I will take care of them, just not today. For now, they’repoof, gone.
I wander to the front of the store to peek out front and make sure there’s no dog poop on the sidewalk. People seem to think that I don’t mind picking up their dog’s mess because, why else would I be in this business? A couple times a day, I have to go out and clean the mess people leave behind.
For me.
I could pretend not to notice, but the number of people who’ve yelled at me after stepping in it forced me to act.
As if I, personally, crapped on the sidewalk.
The coast is clear, as it has been all day, leaving me wondering if I might see any of the hotties from next door wander by, when I realize the smells wafting my way indicate they are probably neck deep in preparing for the evening’s customers.
There is one thing that catches my eye, though, and it’s a new ‘for sale’ sign in the window of the business across the street.
What the hell?
The business, a women’s shoes store, was there yesterday.
But it’s not there anymore, as if it disappeared overnight.
Actually, itdiddisappear overnight.
I’d been in the shop a couple times to check things out. Never bought anything as I mostly live in Birkenstocks and sneakers, but they had nice stuff. And now the place is empty and dark. Someone even spray painted the name off the awning.
