Daddy Boss

by Claire Bishop

  “I’ll look into it,” I tell her.

  “Great,” Cheryl says. She smiles and walks back out the door.

  As she goes, I’m only just starting to realize exactly how busy we are.

  I stand up and move to the doorway, my mouth dropping further as more of the store comes into view.

  How did I miss that?

  The store is full of people milling about, holding up clothes to themselves in mirrors, talking, laughing—what’s more, they’re buying.

  The line in front of Linda’s register is six people deep, and by the time Cheryl opens up the next register over, that number just continues to grow.

  Women of all shapes and sizes are moving about every department, so many of them with a smile on their face.

  I walk out into the store and just listen to what people are saying as I go.

  It’s positive. It’s all positive.

  People aren’t just talking with each other; they’re talking about the store, about the clothes. I have no clue what Cheryl’s been up to in the few days that I’ve been gone, but whatever it is, it’s working.

  The biggest draw, it seems, is the recessed area in plus sizes.

  Where they exist, there are plus sizes among all of the other departments of the store, but this section, this little piece of the store where plus-sized women can get items that aren’t available anywhere else for anyone else, is thriving.

  “Excuse me?” a woman asks, coming up to me.

  “Yes? How can I help you today?” I ask.

  “I was wondering if you happened to have this in black?” she asks, holding up a dress. “I know it’s probably a long shot, but I really think this dress in black would just be perfect for me.”

  One of the upsides of spending most of my life in this store as a control freak is that I know every single item that’s in it.

  “I know that we used to have it, but let’s see if it’s still in stock,” I tell her, and we walk over to the next rack over from where she got the dress she’s holding.

  I look through, and sure enough, it’s right there.

  “Oh, thank you,” she says as I hand it to her. “You really have a wonderful thing going here. You know, I used to walk by here all the time, but one of my girlfriends showed me these shoes she got here, and well, I just had to come in and see it for myself.”

  “Thank you,” I tell her, and I’m actually smiling as she walks away.

  I don’t know if this upswing alone is going to be enough to convince Burbank to sit back down with me, but whenever we do talk terms again, so long as this keeps up, I’m going to have a hell of a lot of leverage.

  “Jessica!” Linda calls, and I turn around.

  Yeah, she’s starting to show. It’s subtle, but when you spend your days running a women’s clothing store, you start to notice things like that.

  I walk over, but before I get to the register, I can already tell what Linda needs. Her line has only grown as has Cheryl’s.

  This is going to be the first time that we’ve ever opened the third register.

  To be honest, I don’t even know if the thing still works.

  I’m up front for at least 20 minutes before the rush starts to die down. The flow of customers is still steady, but it finally thins enough that I’m able to close down register three and head back to my office.

  If I could, I’d stay out on the floor all day. It’s about the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen, but Cheryl’s right. We’re going to need some more cashiers, and the sooner that happens, the better.

  * * *

  When the workday finally comes to a close, I’m not even sure I could handle looking at the total receipts, although that doesn’t stop me from going ahead and doing it anyway.

  Just today, we’ve managed to make up about half of what I spent on Eric’s crew, and from what Cheryl says, yesterday was almost as big.

  We close down, and before Cheryl heads back to her car, I stop her and give her a hug.

  “Thank you so much,” I tell her. “Let’s get together tomorrow before we open up. I really want to hear just what it is that you’ve been doing to get such a response from the neighborhood.”

  “It’s easy,” Cheryl says. “I started a social media campaign, showing some of the things we’ve got that nobody else does, comparing prices to our competitors and spending all my time recruiting friends to tell their friends to tell their friends and so on and so on and so on,” she beams.

  “I don’t know why I never thought of that,” I tell her, “but I’m just glad that you did.”

  “Just doin’ my job, boss,” she says, and still grinning, she turns and walks away.

  Just like that, though, it all starts coming back to me.

  The adrenaline of the day and the wonder at how fast and how dramatic the change has been was enough to keep my mind off of Eric and that whole nightmare, but now with nothing left to occupy my every moment, my elation dissolves into that clusterfuck of emotions that I still don’t know what to do with.

  I get to my car and I call my dad’s number.

  My mom’s supposed to be home from the hospital today.

  Oddly enough, she’s the one that answers.

  “What happened with Eric?” my mom asks.

  “Well hello to you, too,” I answer. “How are you feeling?”

  “Sore, drugged up and otherwise incoherent,” she answers. “So what happened? The two of you seemed like you were doing so well when I saw you yesterday, or was that the medication?”

  “It wasn’t the medication,” I start.

  I go on to give her the whole, lurid story minus the part about Eric and me knocking boots just before the phone call. By the time I’m done venting, I’ve been sitting in my parked car for almost 20 minutes.

  “I don’t understand,” she says when I come to the end of it.

  “My boyfriend—or at least the guy I was calling that yesterday—got someone else pregnant,” I tell her. “It’s really that simple.”

  “It doesn’t sound simple at all,” my mom laughs. “It sounds like an absolute quagmire.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I tell her. “As always, your advice just makes everything all better.”

  “What I don’t understand,” she says, “is why you feel so betrayed? He didn’t cheat on you, unless I missed something there. You said this whole thing happened a couple of months ago?”

  “Yeah,” I tell her, “but I don’t really see how that changes anything. I’m sure it would be worse if he had cheated on me, but right now, I can’t even imagine what worse would feel like.”

  “Well,” she says, “you know what you’ve got to do, don’t you?”

  “Not even a little bit,” I answer.

  “You need to go over there and scream at him for a while,” she says. “He’ll try to interrupt, to explain, but just keep on screaming until you can’t scream any more. After that, he’s going to talk to you and you’re going to need to listen to him. Either this is it or it isn’t. Once he’s talked himself out, you’re probably going to want to start yelling at him again, so do. Get it all out and when you’re all done with that, maybe the two of you can come to an understanding of what this actually means for the both of you and for your relationship.”

  “I don’t think I’m willing to do that,” I tell her. “I just want this whole thing to be over. I just want to forget that any of it happened.”

  “Well,” my mom says, “that’s your choice, but if you think this relationship is something that’s worth fighting for, you’re going to have to do the fighting. If you do stay together, things are going to be complicated and they’re going to stay complicated until the two of you are over. If you think you might be able to love him, whether it’s now or sometime in the future, you’ve got to at least give it a shot. There’s nothing worse than losing someone you love, especially when it’s something that might have been prevented.”

  Do I love Eric?

  It’s still too new a relations
hip, but the fact that listening to her talking about fighting for the relationship gave me the first bit of peace that I’ve felt outside of the insanity of the store’s rush tells me that it might turn into that down the road if only we can get past this.

  “I don’t know, Mom,” I tell her, but the way this is hurting I know I love him. “Things looked like they were going to be so perfect, but then this happens and everything’s just—”

  “Oh, nothing’s ever perfect, dear,” she interrupts. “Just look at your father and me. Why, when I first met him, I thought he was a do-nothing coward—yeah, you heard me, Harold!” she shouts, only giving credence to her point that their relationship isn’t perfect. “But if it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have you or your sister—did you hear they’re going to name the baby Percival?”

  “Oh, God,” I gripe. “It’s a boy?”

  “Can you believe it?” she asks. “Even when I was growing up, Percival was one of those names that always seemed to carry a thick layer of dust on it.”

  I crack a smile.

  “You don’t always know when it’s right. That’s the big myth that sells tickets to all those Sex with Everyone in the City movies,” she says. “All you can do is realize when you’ve reached the point where you’re not willing to fight for it anymore, and maybe you’re already there. This relationship is still so young for both of you and maybe this all came too soon, but if there’s a chance, I think you should track him down and scream at him until you decide one way or the other.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I tell her. “This has actually helped quite a bit.”

  “You’re welcome dear,” my mom says. “Just one more thing and then I’m going to see if I can sneak another pain pill.”

  “Go easy on those, will you?” I ask. “They’re worse than most of the crap you can buy on the streets.”

  “Oh, I just take halves,” my mom says. “I just like playing Secret Impossible Mission with your father. He thinks I’m just trying to get stoned and it’s about the best entertainment I’ve had in years.”

  I roll my eyes.

  This is my mother.

  “You said there was one more thing?” I ask.

  “Yes,” she says. “When the two of you fornicated, did you use a condom?”

  “Oh, for God’s sake…”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Information Overload

  Eric

  “I think what you’ve got to do is to give her a little bit of time, but make sure she knows that you’re thinking about her, only don’t be pushy, but don’t just lie down and let things break apart, you know, unless you have to,” Irene says.

  We’ve been at this for hours, and surprisingly, the more sober she’s gotten, the less sense her advice has made.

  “I’m pretty sure you just gave me a list of contradictions,” I tell her. “Is there anything I’m supposed to do with that, or are you just running through possibilities out loud?”

  “Well, it’s not so easy to know what it is until you know what it is,” she says. “Do you know what it is?”

  The doorbell rings.

  “I should probably get that,” I tell her.

  “All right,” she says, “I should probably catch a cab anyway. Alec’s going to be back soon, and I’ve got a couple of surprises for him.”

  “I will pay for your cab fare if you don’t tell me what those surprises are,” I smile.

  I appreciate the effort Irene’s put into trying to help me today, but I don’t think I’ve gleaned a single clear, useful idea out of the whole discussion.

  She makes the motion of zipping her lips shut, and I pull 40 bucks out of my wallet and hand it to her.

  We get to the door, and I open it.

  “Listen!” Jessica starts, but immediately stops when she sees Irene.

  “Jessica!” Irene exclaims. “It is so great to see you again. Did you have fun at the party? Oh, well, I should get going anyway. You two have a good night, goodbye!”

  Jessica and I watch Irene as she leaves, waiting for all of her words to process. It takes a minute.

  “Can I come in?” Jessica asks me finally.

  “Of course,” I tell her, shutting the door behind her. “I just wanted to say—”

  “No,” she interrupts. “I have a few things I want to say first.”

  “Okay,” I respond, and before I can ask her if I can get her anything to drink, she just lets loose and starts screaming at me.

  “Listen, you stupid son of a bitch…”

  That’s how it starts, and it doesn’t get any nicer.

  At first, I’m waiting for her to stop so I can respond, then I’m waiting for her to take a breath so I can jump in without technically interrupting her. Finally, I’ve given up completely, and we’re having a shouting match.

  The few words I can get in, though, are quickly and easily overpowered by the sheer force and volume of her anger.

  She’s screaming at me for a very long time.

  Epilogue

  The Big Goodbye

  Jessica

  There are a lot of emotions as I stand outside the store I spent so much time building, the idea I’d spent so much time nurturing, growing. Now, I’m locking the doors for the very last time.

  The moment isn’t without its ceremony, as my family and everyone who’s worked for me over these last few years is waiting for me on the sidewalk.

  My mom’s standing with my dad, both of whom are trying to keep their distance from Jed while simultaneously keeping as close as they can to Kristin and—I still have a hard time saying it—Percival.

  He’s almost two now, and Kristin’s already starting to bend with the weight of holding him.

  I kind of want to give a speech to commemorate the closing of Lady Bits’ doors, but there are too many people and I’m simply not that good on my feet, so I just turn back toward the store and take one final look back at the place where I’ve spent so much of my adult life, trying to do something I believed in, making plenty of friends, and yes, even some enemies along the way.

  A hand falls on my shoulder and I straighten my posture.

  The key slides easily into the door and too quickly, the moment is over. The doors are locked.

  The store is closed.

  I turn around and start making my rounds, thanking everyone on my way for their part in helping my dream to come true.

  When I get to Linda, I stop and raise an eyebrow to her.

  “We’ve had some ups and downs, haven’t we?” I ask.

  She snickers and adjusts her baby girl in her arms.

  The girl’s name is Jessica. As weird as it sounds—okay, as weird as it absolutely is—she actually named her child after me.

  “It hasn’t been all bad,” she says. “You remember Paolo, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I say, extending my hand and shaking his. “It’s good to see you again, Paolo.”

  After Eric and Linda hooked up that day years ago, Paolo came back into her life, and Linda, now Mrs. Navas, never looked back.

  “I’m surprised Eric didn’t show up,” Linda says. “He had a pretty big part in turning things around here, too.”

  “That’s just the way it goes,” I tell her, and I give her a hug.

  “Do you know if he’s still planning on picking up Jessica tonight? Paolo’s going to have the car, so I wouldn’t be able to drop her off until later,” she says.

  “I don’t know,” I answer. “Have you tried calling him?”

  I’m running late, but there’s someone else with whom I really want to have a quick word before I have to go and leave this store behind me.

  “Alec,” I say, giving quite possibly the laziest man I’ve ever met a big hug. “Thank you for everything,” I tell him. “I never thought you’d get Burbank to agree to sit down, much less actually talk him into renegotiating such a good deal for us. Thank you for that.”

  “What can I say?” he asks. “I could charm a nun out of her habit.”

&
nbsp; “Yeah, you still kind of creep me out,” I tell him.

  I go to hug Irene, but by the way she’s putting her hand over her mouth, I reconsider applying any pressure to her upper body. I really like these shoes.

  My mom and dad are already walking back to their car, and as everyone disperses, I can’t help but feel gratitude for the fact that my crotchety mother is still around to irritate the shit out of me.

  I say my goodbyes to everyone that’s still around, and inside of 10 minutes, I’m in my car, driving.

  This isn’t how I expected my life to turn out, but all things considered, I think I’ve been pretty fortunate.

  When I get to the new location—or as I like to call it, Lady Bits 2.0—I’m filled with a sense of pride.

  Things really turned around after I promoted Cheryl, and once the word spread, things just kept getting bigger and bigger until that little store wasn’t big enough to hold it all.

  The new store opens in a few days, but before that happens, there are a few things that I need to take care of.

  After all this time, the person I have to thank most wasn’t there to see me close down my first store.

  Eric, despite the sharp turn our relationship took while still in its infancy, did more to turn things around for me than anyone. He gave me the courage to sit back and accept help, and despite the fact that I still think the Plus section would have looked better indented a little further into the ground, the work he did inside the store and outside of it really took things to a place I didn’t think they could go.

  It’s a shame he couldn’t make it to the closing today.

  That being said, he’s got a lot of work to do.

  I walk into the nearly complete building, and even though I’ve been through these doors dozens of times now, I’m still taken aback by the size and the brilliance of the new store.

  José almost runs over me as he’s helping one of his guys move a large display stand.

  “Have you seen Eric?” I ask.

  José still never says more than a few words at a time to me. I think he’s still holding onto some lingering fear that I’m going to have him fired for breaking into my first store.