Cleanup on Aisle Six

by Daniel Stallings

  “Uh-oh,” Reuben said. “I think I see waterworks. That bad?”

  It would take way too long to explain, Li thought. “It’s nothing … Just … It’s … Things have been hard lately.”

  “I’ll ask again. Do you have family who can help you?”

  Li mushed away the tears with the heel of his hand. “I … I don’t want to talk about them right now.”

  “Yikes. Well, do you have a job?”

  “Still looking.” He glanced at the holes in his sneakers. “For a while now.”

  Reuben’s round face brightened with a huge smile. “Then just call me your guardian angel! Apply here!”

  I must be hallucinating. “What?”

  “One of our guys quit suddenly. Our manager hasn’t put the want ad in the paper yet. The job’s still open. Let me talk to Leo and get you an interview.”

  Li had to be dreaming. He pinched the skin in the crook of his elbow. It yelped in pain. “Wait … Hold on. You don’t know anything about me. Or my work ethic. I … I could be scamming you with some made-up sob story.”

  Reuben tipped his head to one side, his mouth twitching with a suppressed chuckle. “You’re seriously going to fight a job opportunity? In your position?”

  “I’m busy trying to convince myself that this is a dream. Besides, how can you have any confidence in me?”

  “You’re clean. You haven’t let your appearance fall apart. You’re well-groomed and clean-shaven. Clearly, you’re fighting for a job. You’re not a slacker.” He nodded toward Li’s shoes. “You’ve worn your shoes down to nothing walking from interview to interview.”

  “That still—”

  “Oh shut up, Li.” Reuben winked. “Let’s get you that interview. I’m sure Leo will jump at the chance to get a new hire so quickly.”

  Reuben nudged Li to follow him. Li walked in a haze, still unsure if any of this was real. Then the flimsiest of smiles played with his lips. Maybe he could get this job. Maybe his luck was turning around. Maybe—

  He collided with Reuben, who had stopped abruptly at the end of the freezer aisle. Reuben’s tan face surged with blood, staining his cheeks a dark cinnamon. His eyes darkened way past black coffee. More like two steaming tar pits. His mouth was one curl away from being a snarl. He stared at a man who just entered the grocery store.

  Li followed the glare. The man had a face like a sick monkey. Thick, greasy remnants of black hair fringed a bald dome. Huge, round eyes the color of old wallpaper glue flanked a smashed nose with large nostrils. A black broom of a mustache bristled under his nose, hiding a small, cruel mouth. A sallow hand patched with black fur clutched the brass knob of an ebony cane. He returned Reuben’s glare, but, if anything, it was more poisonous.

  Li lifted an eyebrow. “Reuben? Are you okay?”

  Reuben was lost in his trance. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  Oscar could have skipped down the sidewalk of Shorewood Avenue. Instead, he ambled along, twirling his cane in his hand. He was even tempted to whistle. His lizard grin spread over flabby cheeks. Today was beautiful and perfect. The September sun, though hot, glimmered like a topaz jewel. Birds serenaded him. He made Frank want to slaughter him. All his plans were crystallizing. This was the point in a musical where the character would segue into song. Oscar couldn’t be happier.

  He stopped, his cane reverting to neutral. Or could he? There were a few niggling details left to iron out. Easily accomplished after dinner. And after he posted the latest review to his infamous blog.

  The grin puckered into a frown. Unless that stupid son of his tried to edit his masterpiece. Then he’d be up half the night trying to pummel some discipline into that juvenile delinquent. It had been a long time since Oscar drew a bath for that boy.

  The frown smoothed back into a smile. Jason was easy to handle. Everything was easy, it seemed. There were no hiccups. He controlled the city more effectively than any government. And soon, he hoped to control the world.

  At the next light—Prichard Avenue—Oscar turned left. This street began the small neighborhood where people with more comfortable incomes kept their homes. Not much farther now. The short walk from the grocery store invigorated his spirits. The scowls were just for show anyway. Lately, he felt as ebullient as a teenage boy reliving his first kiss. Maybe even his first orgasm.

  He stopped in front of his home, his eyes making quick work of the daily inspection. The freshly shaved lawn swelled around Mrs. Lindstrom’s perfectly circular flower beds, neatly packed into pools of fluffy white mums, flowers that wouldn’t compete with the house. The paint scheme—dove gray and snow-white—gleamed like a new dime from the US Mint. The lines of the two-story house were rigid and straight, unadorned, unfanciful, from the roofline to the porch. Oscar gave his castle a sharp nod and skipped up the front steps.

  The smell of braised beef short ribs, drunk with natural jus, swarmed to him as he crossed the threshold. Dinner. The perfect scent for a man’s home, in his opinion. None of that cloying, flowery crap. Kathryn knew how to please him.

  And there she was, waiting for him at the base of the staircase. Blue gingham apron tied smartly around her slender waist. Eyes of such a warm, deep blue that they could pass for violet. Skin like peaches and milk. Kathryn Lindstrom smiled at her husband. It was a smile so full of love. Her face glowed with it. She had tied her luscious chocolate curls into a sensible braid that trickled down her back.

  “Dinner,” Oscar declared. Why waste time with prolonged greetings?

  “It’s all ready, sweetie.”

  Her voice was warm and musical. Like the low hum of cello. Oscar smirked at how many men would wage wars just to hear her say that to them.

  “Good. Perfect. Where’s Jason?”

  “Upstairs. He’s posting your latest review to the blog.”

  Oscar’s good humor shriveled into a dead husk. Dammit. The big dope had to ruin what was turning into a splendid evening. Couldn’t he wait until after dinner to do it? The moron would probably foul everything up.

  “JASON!” Oscar’s voice carried upstairs with all the subtlety of a bomb. “DINNER! NOW!”

  Kathryn showed zero reaction, her smile and loving glow never fading.

  A scuffle of footsteps. Maybe a whispered oath. Oscar would skin Jason later for that little slip. He turned to his wife. “Kathryn dear, I believe it would be a good time to start prepping for the first course.”

  “Absolutely, honey.” She settled a kiss on her husband’s flabby cheek. “I’ll have it ready in no time.” And she swept through the huge archway to her right and into the adjacent formal dining room.

  The scuffle of footsteps clambered down the stairs. Oscar winced at the noise. It was like an elephant doing ballet. Jason Lindstrom, a frown pinching his mousy-gray eyebrows together and his hair-thin glasses bouncing on the bridge of his nose, scrambled up to his father. He looked lost under the baggy long-sleeved sweater he wore. Oscar didn’t conceal his disgust. Jason was twenty-five years old and completely hopeless! He was tardy. He was slow. He was inefficient. He was disrespectful. An altogether disappointing specimen.

  “What have I told you about posting reviews?” Oscar growled.

  Jason’s voice, thin and high compared to his stepmother’s, pushed through a tremor. “I-I was only setting it up, Dad.”

  “That’s not what Kathryn said.”

  “Sh-she got it wrong, then.”

  “She doesn’t get anything wrong, son. You get things wrong.”

  Jason’s anemic complexion burned scarlet. His protuberant Adam’s apple bobbed like a buoy in a storm. “I-I’m not wrong, Dad. I didn’t do anything. I—”

  “Stop talking. You know I hate excuses. Here’s what you’ll do.” Oscar thrust a warning finger into his son’s face. “Never touch my reviews again. If you do, I won’t be responsible for your situation outside of these walls.”

  He started toward the dining room when his son’s voice broke into a sharp retort, cracking from strain, a
petulant whine. “You’re … You’re not the b-boss of me!”

  Oscar turned and took stock of Jason’s appearance. Anemic skin tone. Frail figure. Dry, colorless hair. That damn weakness in his eyes that was a curse from his mother’s family. Everything screamed puny, shrunken, and brittle. Jason would crumble in the real world like chalk crushed in a fist.

  “You’re a slug, Jason.” Oscar’s voice was low and soft, the searching growl of a hungry wolf. “You can’t take care of yourself.”

  “I can do better than you think I can!”

  “Don’t argue with me, Jason. You’re worthless. Get in the dining room and eat dinner, or I’ll make you get in the tub. Do you want that? Do you want another bath?”

  Jason stumbled backward, his eyes huge and his lip shaking. “You … You wouldn’t.”

  “I would. Now shut up and get in the dining room.”

  Oscar turned to leave, but his ears caught a few profane mumblings from his son. He whirled around and whacked the head of his cane onto Jason’s shoulder. Jason shrieked.

  “What have I told you about using that filthy language, you stupid boy?” Oscar growled. “Maybe I should have you drink your special bath water instead. That’ll shut your disgusting mouth.”

  There was a split second of mortal terror in Jason’s face. He stormed into the dining room, tears brimming against his eyelashes.

  Kathryn’s musical voice, the perfect anticlimax, floated through the archway to her husband’s ears.

  “By the way, dear, you got a package today.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Victims

  “Thanks for agreeing to work weekends, Liam. Everyone wants those days off. We’re always horribly understaffed. You’re a lifesaver.”

  Li, freshly turned out in his black pants, white button-down shirt, and chocolate brown apron, smiled. Actually, he hadn’t stopped smiling since he heard the words “You’re hired.” His cheeks started to ache. “No problem, Mr. Lewitski.”

  Li’s new boss flinched at the name. He swiveled on his heel and flashed a billion-watt smile at Li. “Call me Leo. Leo Lewis. Mr. Lewitski was my father.”

  “Oh … um … sorry, Leo.”

  “Don’t worry about it. You’d want to change your name too if your parents named you Leonard Lewitski.” He tugged on the sharp, black manager’s vest he wore and flaunted the brassy name tag bearing the slim and sexy rewrite of his birth name. Then he straightened his manager’s tie—black-and-gold pinstripe to distinguish him from standard employee black—and hustled along, Li shadowing him. “I think the best way to learn the job is to do it. Throw you to the lions. But I’ll have someone train you on the basics and give you a good head start. Meet your training buddy, Reuben Rodriguez.”

  Reuben, who had been negotiating a barge of cereal boxes with a pallet jack, stopped and turned. He grinned. “I knew you’d get the job.”

  Li blushed.

  Leo walked to the cereal shipment and patted it. “Reuben was just getting ready to build our weekly special display. I think that’s a good way to break into your duties. You can help him out, Liam. Just follow his instructions. And if you have any questions, feel free to ask him or come and find me. Welcome to Esther’s Family Grocery.”

  Before Li could say his thanks, Leo marched away, leading with his chest.

  Reuben set the shipment down. “Now that you’re working here, I can poke and pry into your sob story at will! It’s nice to see you looking really happy though. You’re smiling almost as much as Leo.”

  Li relaxed his grin and massaged his numb cheeks. “I’m just relieved to have a job. I feel ten pounds lighter.”

  “And you look ten years younger.” Reuben pulled the jack out of the pallet and started wheeling it toward the back of the store. “I’ve got to get another shipment of Frosted Fizzle Bombs. Use your box cutter and unwrap this one. Then we can start building.”

  On Reuben’s return, they set to work. Leo had specific guidelines for his displays. A pyramid. Always a pyramid. But one of exact dimensions and with the product name always aimed toward the customers.

  Li envisioned being a tomb builder in ancient Egypt.

  “Why a pyramid?” he asked.

  Reuben spread his hands and shrugged. “You got me. You’ve seen how it is around here. All the displays are pyramids. Even the produce. It’s like working in Giza. Leo’s got some half-formed reason of his own—some healthy eating pyramid thing—but I think he was Pharaoh Khufu in a past life.”

  Reuben helped Li set the exact dimensions for the display, and together they built the foundation. He also wheedled out detail after detail of Li’s backstory. His father’s leukemia. The family business failing. His father’s death. Near bankruptcy. Being driven into the workforce as a teenager to pay the mortgage. Moving away from home to ease the financial burden. His mom and little sister breaking their backs to keep a roof over their heads. Being too poor to go to college. His self-assigned homework to complete his shoestring education. Bad luck with jobs. And the murderous set of circumstances that cost him his last job on the Howard Cruise Line.

  “Damn,” Reuben said, his eyes wide, “I knew you had crap happen in your life, but that’s enough for an epic trilogy. How come you haven’t collapsed under all that?”

  “I just keep reminding myself of the lessons my dad taught me.” Li fussed with the precise angle of a box. “Never give up. He didn’t raise a quitter. Even when I felt like falling apart, I had to push through it. Life wasn’t going to be easy for me.”

  “What brought you to Shorewood?”

  “I had a little help. Mainly I just wanted to get the hell out of Long Beach. I grew up in this area. Jefferson, California. It’s only a few miles away.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of—”

  Li’s stomach interrupted. By roaring. Li tried to shrink into his apron.

  Reuben’s belly wobbled when he laughed. “I thought that’s what I heard yesterday! You okay? Do you have enough to eat at home?”

  “Well … I … um …”

  Reuben raised a hand. “Mumble no more. I got the picture. I’m inviting you to dinner tonight at my place with me and my boyfriend, Noah. We’d love the company. And we need to get some food into you.”

  “Oh no! I couldn’t. I mean … you’ve already been so nice and—”

  “Don’t mention it! Seriously, come. Noah loves to cook for people. Heck, he’s a hospitality major. We’d be happy to have you.”

  A grin stretched the full expanse of Li’s face. “Gee … I-I really don’t know how to thank you. I’m kind of overwhelmed.”

  “Hey, I just like helping people. And I’m glad you’re here. You’re by far the fastest-learning and most organized trainee I’ve had. Not a single casualty. Let’s get the stepladder and—”

  Reuben’s eyes seemed to double in size, frozen on something over Li’s left shoulder. He forgot all about his trainee. He muttered under his breath, “No. He can’t be here. Not again.”

  Li craned his neck over his shoulder, and his eyes locked on the customer from yesterday—the man with the monkey’s face. What was he doing here on Saturday when he already did his shopping on Friday? Monkey Face saw them, and a grin that reminded Li of hungry lizards slid out from under his mustache. He walked toward them, swinging his cane.

  “Oh God,” Reuben whispered. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

  Li’s eyes shifted to him. “Reuben, what is it?”

  Reuben couldn’t answer. He trembled all over. His eyes were darkening into tar pits again. He strangled the corner of his apron in fat, shaking fists.

  Monkey Face was upon them. “Are you boys responsible for this … structure?” His voice was slimy, dark. It felt like oil pouring into Li’s ears. He tapped the unfinished pyramid with the foot of his cane.

  Li, his glance drifting between Reuben and the customer, cleared his throat. “Um … yes, sir. Do you need some help?”

  “Oh, I don’t think I’m the one who needs help.” Hi
s eyes oozed with venom.

  “If you want to buy the cereal, we—”

  “What makes you think that I would ever think of purchasing those processed cardboard pellets?” Spittle punctuated every hard consonant.

  Judging from the man’s jaundiced complexion—the price of overindulging in rich food and expensive wine—Li had to agree that this customer wouldn’t be caught dead buying Frosted Fizzle Bombs. Or even enter this store in the first place. Monkey Face’s poisonous eyes scanned the supermarket and seemed to find all the ugly details: the bubbling and cracking linoleum floor, the winking fluorescent lights, and the vague stink wafting from the men’s restroom several feet away. “You both work in a dump,” he said.

  Reuben spat out a reply. Almost like he was trying to release the tension coiling around his body. “Esther’s Family Grocery has been a fixture for families in the Shorewood community since 1968.”

  Monkey Face smirked. “And judging from these cracks spidering across the floor, it hasn’t seen an update since then.”

  Reuben continued to twist his apron in his fingers. Like he was fashioning a garrote. His round, pleasant face twitched and squirmed, battling to keep back a flood of emotion. His eyes steamed. “Get out of here.”

  Li moved between them, the electric tension in the air squeezing against his throat. “I-is there anything I can help you—”

  Monkey Face’s cane whacked the bottom of Li’s chin and snapped his mouth shut. He drilled his sadistic glare into Reuben’s writhing face. “You’re not very polite to your customers. Then again, your family doesn’t know much about service.”

  Li could hear Reuben starting to hyperventilate. Reuben snarled at the man. The explosion was coming.

  Monkey Face pushed the foot of his cane into Reuben’s belly, drawing attention to his weight. His yellow eyes traced the Mexican heritage in Reuben’s features. “Unusual setup for you, isn’t it? A little far from the border. Shouldn’t you and your family be selling food from the back of a—?”

  That did it. In a heartbeat, Reuben’s face swelled with blood, his eyes black and smoldering. His body flinched, a panther ready to strike. His hands, trembling and independent, launched forward.