The Trouble Way Read online

  Candy shook her head and rolled her eyes at Ms. Becky’s lame joke.

  You ignorant slut, if you only knew.

  Candy pushed one cart ahead and pulled another behind as she retrieved several carts of returns from the service desk.

  “Candy,” Martha said gesturing to the numerous carts full of cosmetic items, “be sure to come back and get these carts too, please.”

  Candy looked at the five remaining carts of returns and let out a huge sigh. “If I knew there would be so much to do, I would have stayed in the stockroom with Dwight. At least we didn’t have this mess to clean up every single, solitary day. I don’t know how anybody can keep up.”

  “You will get faster with practice,” Martha said. “Everyone is slow when they first get into a department. We do seem to have more returns than ever lately.”

  At first, Candy was very conscientious about returning each item to its proper place on the counter.

  “It’s just so frustrating,” Candy said to Annabelle, the timid stocker who brought more boxes from the stockroom for Candy to stock. “I just can’t get caught up. It’s like someone is working against me. Could you please, please help me with these returns, Annabelle?”

  “I’ll help you out as much as I can, but I have to get back to the stockroom soon or Dwight will miss me,” Annabelle said. “We have lots of freight to get to the floor so I can’t help you very much.”

  “You are such a sweetheart, Annabelle. If there is anything I can do for you, you just let me know. I am so grateful.”

  “You’ll have to get the rest of these returns off the floor, we’re open for business,” Mr. Hedd said as he made his daily tour through the department. “If you must, push the return carts into your stockroom and work on them one at a time. You’ll just have to pick up your pace. I had much higher hopes for you, Candy.”

  Mr. Hedd turned to Annabelle. “Annabelle, what are you doing out here on the sales floor? It’s Candy’s responsibility to take care of the returns in her department.”

  Annabelle lowered her head and scurried off toward the stockroom, too embarrassed to respond to his reprimand.

  “I am trying, Mr. Hedd, truly I am,” Candy said as she watched Mr. Hedd continue his tour of the next department, grateful that he did not inspect the cosmetic stockroom where there were already five return carts overflowing with return merchandise.

  When she realized that there was no way she would be able to return everything left from the previous day’s business and stock the merchandise that the stockroom people were hauling to the floor, she began putting anything in any open place on the counter she could find, regardless of the label. On a few occasions, making absolutely sure nobody was watching, she even put several handfuls of makeup into a paper bag and dropped it into a trashcan near the men’s dressing room on her way to the employee lounge for her morning break.

  Working feverishly, Candy finished only four of the return carts; the remaining three, she crammed into the cosmetic stockroom already crowded with the five others, and forced the door closed.

  Candy slammed the door, tossed her purse onto the coffee table, spilling the contents. “Shit ... shit ... shit. Shit. Why does every shitin’ thing happen to me. Shit, shit, shit, shit.”

  “Jesus Christ, what the hell’s your problem?” Jesse said, jarred awake from the nap he was well into on couch. “Can’t you see I was sleeping ... are you blind? What’s eating you?” He reached for his Marlboros on the coffee table.

  “They moved me to the garden shop,” she said in a high-pitched whiney voice. “Ms. Becky said I wasn’t well suited to the cosmetic department and besides, they needed more help in the garden shop during the Christmas season. Shit.”

  “Could you hold that thought for a second and grab me a beer?” Jesse said. “You got a match?”

  Candy found a matchbook from contents that had spilled from her purse and flipped it in his direction and went to the fridge and fetched the beer. “Shit.”

  Jesse used the church key on the coffee table and opened the two beers she returned with and tossed the matches back in Candy’s direction and tossed the burnt match toward the ashtray. It missed.

  “They replaced me with that little skinny shit, mousy girl, Annabelle, from the stockroom. Everyone calls her the rabbit girl, she sits in the corner all by herself and eats lettuce. They should put her in the garden shop. She would fit right in with those lettuce-eating shit hamsters and rats. That’s all she eats at lunch. She’ll never be able to keep up with all the returns.”

  “Is it a promotion?” He leaned back, blew smoke at the ceiling, and put his stocking feet onto the coffee table.

  “No, it’s not a shitting promotion.” She took a swig of beer and a long drag on her smoke. “I hate those little shit rat things. The pay is the same but what do I know about Christmas trees and hamsters? I don’t know shit, that’s what. Plus, I have to work with that hundred years old biddy shit, Betty or Bertie or something.”

  “Why are you bitchin’? You always complained about having so many returns to put away in the cosmetic department. Maybe there won’t be as much of that stuff in the Garden Shop.”

  “There’s no slimy white rats in the cosmetic department. That bitch Ann had something to do with this whole thing, I just know it. She has never liked me … ever since I moved out.”

  “She doesn’t like you because you stole a couple hundred bucks from her when you left her apartment. Not to mention the weed you took.”

  “She doesn’t know that for sure. Beside, other than that, I was always nice to her. I bet she told Ms. Becky something and got me moved. I hate that shit bitch. She’s sleeping with that damn shit Mr. Forest, the assistant manager we saw on the ferry. I’ll get that bitch back … she’ll be sorry she messed with me.”

  “Hold on, Honey, think about it for a bit, this may be an opportunity for you. There may be some things that are beneficial for an enterprising young lady with access to an unmonitored exit from the store. I’ll put some thought into it and maybe we’ll come up with something before you get your panties all twisted. This may have been the best promotion you could have gotten.”

  “I don’t know about that, Jess, I hate the thought of having to touch those filthy little rat thingies.”

  “Get over the goddamned hamsters, Hon. Let the damn critters loose if you don’t want to deal with them. Shit, Candy, learn from the master, there’s more than one way to skin a fucking rat. Christ. Let’s concentrate on what opportunities that are staring us straight in the eye.”

  “Just put the little box inside the cage. Slowly reach down and grab them behind the ears, like a cat, and scoot them into the box. It won’t hurt the little critters and they won’t hurt you, Hon,” Bertie said. “Put all the hamsters in an empty aquarium and then you’ll be able to clean their cages. It’s very simple. When you’re finished with the hamsters, move on to the white rats. Then, we’ll have a lesson on cleaning the fish tanks.”

  “They’re icky.” She moved close to see in the cage. She lifted the lid on the hamster cage and put her hand inside. “They stink.” One of the hamsters scurried to the corner. Apparently, it had the opposite idea, that of not being caught. He backed into the corner, rising up on his haunches and looking up at her approaching hand. “He is not cooperating.”

  Bertie watched as Candy made a swift, tentative grab for the fur on the nape of its neck and missed, grabbing only a tuft of hair on its side; the hamster twisted in its loose hide and clamped onto the end of Candy’s thumb, piercing her fingernail with its razor sharp incisors. Candy screamed as she jerked her hand from the cage with the hamster clinging to her finger, its teeth snagged on her fingernail like a fish on a hook. When the hamster finally loosened its jaw from Candy’s swinging arm, it went sailing over several counters and scampered along the baseboard ahead of Candy as she ran full tilt toward the personnel office.

  Two women shoppers backed away as they watched the spectacle of a horrified Ann runnin
g past, one hand gripping the other, blood oozing through her fingers.

  “I-HATE-YOU … ANN.”

  “To be honest, honey, they do have these trees priced little on the high side.” Bertie stood hugging her long raincoat around herself in the drizzle, a cigarette hung loose from her lips. She took the liberty of smoking because the cut Christmas trees were in the auxiliary fenced area far from the register and away from any supervisor’s prying eyes. “If you want God’s honest truth, these trees are way overpriced. I know for a fact Big Richards pays ten bucks for these trees marked thirty.”

  “Why so high?” the gentleman asked.

  “It makes up for the mark-downs they have to take if the trees don’t sell fast enough as we get closer to Christmas. I feel bad that the poor working shmucks who are getting taken. Know what I mean? We’re in the exact same leaky boat, Sir. I’m right there manning the bilge pumps with you.”

  “Thirty bucks does seem to be an awful high price for a six foot fir tree,” the gentleman in the coveralls said.

  “If you can keep this on the low-down, Sir, I can give this beautiful tree for half that price if can give me cash.”

  Candy was standing behind a wall of Christmas trees leaning against the fence. She recognized Bertie’s cigarette induced raspy voice. “Give me fifteen bucks cash money and we’ll toss it in your truck right now and won’t have to hassle with the formalities and you’ll be on your way with a beautiful tree for a fair price, what do you say?”

  “You got yourself a deal, lady,” he said, looking around as he dug into his pocket for a few bills. “All I got is a sawbuck and some change, will you give it to me for that?”

  “You drive a hard bargain, mister.” She took a drag on her cigarette and let the smoke drift out of her nostrils. “Sure, it’s yours.”

  From Candy’s vantage, she saw as Bertie palmed the ten bucks and slid it into her smock pocket.

  So that’s your gig. I knew you were up to something, you devious old bitty. No wonder you go through so many trees on your shift.

  “Oh, Candy, there you are.” Bertie started as Candy walked out from behind the trees. “I didn’t see you there. Would you help this gentleman with his tree, sweetie? He’s already paid for it,” Bertie said. “You have a merry Christmas, Sir.”

  “You have quite a little business going don’t you Bertie?” Candy said after she waved off the customer as he drove off with the tree top sticking from the bed of his trunk.

  “Heavens, honey,” Bertie said. She inhaled and left the cigarette dangling in her lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Right, Bertie. I want in on the action and if I don’t get in on it, I’m going to tell that nice Mr. Forest what you have been up to.”

  “No need to get your tit in a ringer, Honey. I’m sure there is enough to go around, we can work out a compromise.” Bertie took a deep drag and blew smoke into the night. “We can both make a little something, dear. Just don’t go and do something stupid.”

  “I want half,” Candy said.

  It had been an especially lucrative evening. She had started to like Bertie. They thought alike and they worked the customers well together. Sometimes, Bertie would pass off a young married guy to Candy and she would offer the deal. Other times, it was Candy who would direct the older mill workers in Bertie’s direction. When they made a cash deal they would split their take and both made a hefty amount by the end of their shift.

  On separate occasions, they both approached Ms. Becky and expressed how much they liked working the same shift as the other and Ms. Becky would accommodate them and schedule them accordingly. Ms. Becky even bumped up Candy’s hours for over the holidays to forty a week, full time. She sometimes got a few hours of overtime. Christmas trees were flying out of the garden shop.

  “I couldn’t be happier, Candy.” Ms. Becky had told her. “Mr. Hedd has noticed the number of trees on tops of cars leaving the garden shop. Honestly, Mr. Hedd and I had our doubts about you for a while, but I think we figured out just where you do us the most good. Keep up the good work, Hon.”

  “Watch out who you offer a deal to, honey. It is not for everyone. If they pay by check, it’s gotta be rung up. Don’t get greedy, and for goodness sakes, if there are any other employees around, shut’er down.” Bertie cautioned Candy after their initial wary hours of working together. “Working the rubes,” as Bertie, who had worked in several carnival shows called them. “It’s better to do the dealing during the evening shift when the tree lot is mostly dark,” Bertie said. “Watch for their dress and the manner in which the customers speak. You can tell the blue-collar folks, the folks who didn’t have a problem sticking it to the man either. They are benefiting as much as we are.”

  Bertie had rarely been wrong when she set a bead on a mark. In reality, the mark had always been Big Richards.

  Candy was on her way home after a rainy December night of wheeling and dealing with Bertie. She drove up to the apartment and parked in the empty space next to Jesse’s pick-up. She slid the seventy-five bucks, her half the take, for working the evening shift with Bertie into an envelope and put it in her inside jacket pocket for safe keeping. In reality, she had kept an extra twenty from Bertie’s portion. What she don’t know ain’t goin’ to hurt her. Hell, the old bat is probably doing the same to me. Three more Fridays before Christmas and she was hoping to work every one of them.

  “Don’t be stupid, Candy. Why the hell don’t you tell your boss you’ve got other commitments on Friday night? Namely, taking care of your ol’ man,” Jesse said looking up from the couch when she walked into the apartment. “I’ve been waiting all night. I damn near left your ass at home and went to the White Shutters without you.”

  “Don’t call me stupid, I can’t tell them I don’t want to work, they’ll fire me. You know I can’t afford to lose my job, miserable one that it is. You want your rent money don’t you?”

  “You’re goddamned right I want my rent money. It had better not be short again this month or I might have to start looking for another roommate.”

  “You know I try my best, Honey. You know they don’t pay me shit. They cut my hours again for next week, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to make rent this month either. I’ll do my best though. Please understand.”

  “We may have to figure out another method of payment.” Jesse laughed and made a grab for her ass on the way by. “Got any ideas, babe?”

  “You know I give you all the fringe benefits you can handle but I’ll try to think of something more you might like,” Candy said slapping his hand. “I bought some new batteries for my little machine. Will that do?”

  “Maybe, we’ll see later on tonight if you’ve learned any new tricks.” he said. “Grab me a beer on your way past the refrigerator, will you Can? I’m dyin’ here. Grab me my smokes from the kitchen table too, would ya?”

  “Yes, Master.” She did his bidding and returned to the bedroom. “Give me a minute. Let me change into something more comfortable and we can head out.”

  No need to worry your brilliant little head about my job, but the simple fact is, I don’t have anything better to do on a Friday nights, including spending a romantic evening fetching beers for your lazy ass. I’m cleanin’ your ever-luvin’ clock to the tune of a grand since I started working at Big Dicks. I’ve been shorting you on the rent every damn month, Master Don’t Be Stupid. And Jess, that grand is tax-free.

  “Remember, Jess, I said I thought I could get some,” Candy said. “Well, I was right. It’s Linda. She said she could score me a lid anytime I want it. I knew people smoked, I just wasn’t sure where they got it. One of the stockers told me Linda could get some.”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember Linda. I smoked with her and your old roomie and some of her other friends at the White Shutters one night.”

  “I’ll give you ten bucks. Can you get me a lid?” Jesse said. He pulled out his wallet and fingered through the bills and handed her a sawbuck.

  �
�It’s fifteen, Jess, the price is fifteen. Sorry.”

  “This is a fuckin’ rip-off.” Jesse pulled his wallet back out and found a five and tossed it at Candy who made a grab to catch it and missed.

  She bent and picked it up. “It’s not my fault, Jess, I’m just telling you what the price is. You don’t have to be an ass about it. If you don’t like the price, don’t buy it, find your own pot.” She looked at the bills and gave them a flip in his direction. She turned her back on him and began searching her purse for her smokes.

  “It just pisses me off, that’s all,” Jesse said. He bent and retrieved the bills and handed them back to Candy who ignored him. “Here take them. I know it’s not your fault ... here Honey, take them.”

  She looked up at him and held her hand out. He placed the bills in her hand.

  Jerk. There was no apology in the offing and Candy had learned not to expect any. She’d just scored another five bucks. She had learned how to extract apologies. Sometimes it cost Jesse five bucks more for a lid, sometimes a twenty in underpaying her rent. You’re so stupid. She’d pick up all the five dollar bills he cared to toss at her but she’d much rather he deliver them straight into her little fist.

  Chapter 9 Jake Forest Simply chicken shit in butcher paper … sans the bow. Well, slap my ass and call me Judy. Make that order with a side of fraternize, please.

  1970’s

  “It is company policy that there is no fraternization between management and the employees,” Mr. Hedd said during the first three minutes of their indoctrination meeting. “Just want to be up to speed with you on that matter. Fact is, some of the new trainees think of Big Richards as their personal meat market, to use the lingo of this new generation. I certainly hope you are a man of higher integrity, Mr. Forest.”