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In the two hours I spent training with Rhonda, we unloaded three oversized carts that she’d called U-boats, each filled to the top with boxes of inventory. She was more of a talker than a stocker, so she didn’t offer much in the form of help. Instead, she told me her life story. She’d married a man right out of high school, caught him in bed with another woman, and drove his Chevy truck straight into the side of their trailer house. When she told me she stole the woman’s car from the driveway and sold it to a chop shop, she was so flushed with pride that I thought she might just break into song and dance.
With the third and final U-boat emptied, she untied her smock and made her way to the employee break room. I followed her, unsure what I was meant to do next. She hung her apron on a hook and pulled her purse out of a locker before grabbing two timecards from the slot next to the time clock. After grabbing the time card she held out for me, I took off my apron, following her lead.
“Going somewhere?” She pulled a bottle of perfume out of her purse and sprayed eight spritzes against her neck and cleavage.
“Oh. I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to stay or … I thought maybe that was your way of saying I was fired.”
She smiled at me, pinching my cheek. “I like you, doll. You’re in.” She slung her purse strap over her shoulder and slammed the locker closed behind her. “You get thirty minutes for lunch. That’s what the time card is for. When you clock back in, the boss should be here. You want to walk me out?” We turned and left the break room, making our way to the front of the store. “Bossman is an easy enough guy. Easy on the eyes, too. You’ll appreciate that.” She peeked over her shoulder and gave me a wink, accidentally banging her head against a coupon dispenser attached to one of the shelves. “Son of a mother fucker.” She rubbed her forehead and groaned.
“And he’ll be okay with you hiring me without running it by him first?”
“Honey, there’s one thing you need to know about the hierarchy here.” We made our way past the checkout lines, toward the exit. “I might only be the operations manager, but I run this place.” She surprised me when she leaned in and pulled me in for a bear hug, slapping my ass when she was done. “I want to see that cute little butt of yours here tomorrow morning at seven, alright?” She looked down at her watch and sighed. “Christ, I’m running late. Listen, when you clock back in, the boss should be down the health and beauty aisle. Tell him I sent you, and that I want him to show you how to close the store tonight.” She looked me up and down one last time, clicking her tongue against her cheek like an absolute deviant.
Once I clocked back in, I made my way toward the sign that readAisle 8 — Shampoo, Soap, Automotive.I turned the corner to find a man on his knees, his ass prominently on display. He was hunched over a box, pulling out bars of soap and stocking them on the shelf.
I tried to walk. Tried to speak. Tried to alert him to my presence. In my lusty little haze, my mouth went rogue, refusing to function. I stared at the rounded globes pressed flush against his skin-tight khakis, basking in their beauty. The sound of individually boxed bars of soap crashing against the floor pulled me out of my stupor. I looked up and realized the man was watching me as I watched him.
“Fuck,” I said, much louder than I’d intended.
Gray Collins was bent over in front of me, and I was staring directly at his ass. I crushed my bottom lip between my teeth and chewed. He stood up and took a step back like I was a diseased bird that he wanted to avoid contact with.
“Rhonda told me to find the boss. I’m guessing that’s you?” I said. His shoulders were squared, and he remained silent. It was as if the very act of speaking to me would bring about the end times. “She said you’re supposed to show me how to close tonight.”
He took another step back. “I ” Gray looked down at the box on the ground. After an extremely uncomfortable moment of silence, he pointed down at the bars of soap. “I—just—soap.”
“Soap,” I agreed.
“You …” He looked up, his face harder than it had been before. Gray pointed at the box, then at me, flicking his finger back and forth.
“Mom told me you didn’t work here anymore. She said you’d gotten a job over in Cobb. I wouldn’t have applied if I’d known.”
He was still pointing at the scattered soap on the floor. “It—it didn’t work out. Just—you, just put—on the shelf.” He closed his eyes and shook his head before turning around and walking away without another word. When he reached the end of the aisle, he turned, and then his shoes slapped heavily against the tile in the next aisle over. He’d made a giant rectangle just to avoid standing within three feet of me.
I whirled around in time to see him walking past the cash registers, then into the elevated office above the checkout stands. There was a divider that almost stretched to the ceiling, and a window in front of his desk. He sat in a chair behind the desk and picked up his phone. He peeked up, catching me staring, and swiveled around. All I could see was the back of his head, the beginnings of a bald spot proudly on display. I turned around, making my way back toward the boxes of soap, trying to maintain my composure.
Once the box was empty and the shelf was full, I stood up, breaking the box down like Rhonda had shown me earlier. When I made it to the front of the store, Gray was standing next to a checkout girl, whispering something into her ear. He pulled away in time to catch my gaze and immediately stared at the register, pointing toward the aisle I was standing in. Our eyes met, and his cheeks went red. He took her place at the register and sent her my way.
She approached with an air of superiority and a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. I wondered what he had told her. What ridiculous lie he had spun to slander my name. Judging by experience, it was probably something terrible that I’d never be able to live down.
She looked to be in her mid-twenties. A landslide of long, curly blonde hair swayed behind her, hanging well past her hips. She, like most of the female customers I’d seen, wore a flowing denim skirt, the hem resting at her ankles.
“Hi there. You must be Kent.”
I smiled at her, reaching out to shake her hand. She stared at it nervously, as if debating whether she wanted to touch me or turn and run away.
“Something wrong?”
She shook her head, that same fake smile still stretched across her face. “I have a thing about germs. Nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal.” I nodded. “Weren’t you just working the cash register? I’d think money would be a lot less sanitary than my hand, but that’s fine.” I scowled at her, and then I peered over her shoulder. Gray spotted me staring, and I arched an eyebrow at him.
Your move.
He darted his gaze down, eyeing the keys on the cash register as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Well, anyway, Mr. Collins wanted me to show you the ropes. I’m Becca. He said that he’s sorry he can’t show you himself. He just gets these headaches, you see.”
“Does he now?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of gum. After popping a piece in my mouth, I held one out for her. The color drained from her face. I wanted to shout that I wasn’t diseased. That she couldn’t catch my homosexuality from touch alone. “Funny,” I said, glancing back at Gray, “I’d think all that beeping and endless chit-chat with customers would be a lot worse for a headache than stocking things on shelves in a quiet aisle. But that’s fine too. Alright, Becca. Let’s roll.”
