"I do not want my daughters working for The Store."
"And your daughters are?"
"Samantha and Shannon Davis."
"Ah, the Davis sisters." Mr. Lamb's smile grew broader in a sly way that Bill did not like.
"My daughters are no longer working for The Store."
Mr. Lamb spread his hands apologetically. "I'd like to help you, Mr.
Davis. I really would. But both of your daughters are excellent employees and we have no cause to let them go. We are prohibited by company policy from terminating employees without justification."
"I'm not _asking_ you to fire them. I'm _telling_ you that they will no longer be working here."
"I'm afraid they will."
"No. They won't."
The personnel manager laughed. "Mr. Davis, this isn't nursery school. You didn't enroll your daughters here, and you cannot withdraw them whenever the whim suits you. Both Samantha and Shannon have an employment contract with The Store, and they are legally bound by the strictures of that contract."
"I'm their father. I know nothing about this so-called contract, and I did not give my consent."
"I understand that, Mr. Davis. But Samantha is eighteen. She is legally an adult. Shannon is not yet a legal adult, but she is protected under the umbrella of The Store from any attempt to infringe on her rights or civil liberties, whether that be from customers, coworkers, or her family."
Bill stood. "This is bullshit."
Mr. Lamb's eyes narrowed, grew hard. "No, Mr. Davis. It is business."
"I want to talk to the manager."
"I'm afraid that authority for all personnel-related matters rests with me."
"I still want to talk to someone above you."
"That won't be possible."
"And why not?"
"Our store manager has been transferred to another location and a replacement has not yet been assigned. Until we get a new manager, I am in charge of the day-to-day operation of this Store."
"Then I want to talk to your district manager."
"Very well." Mr. Lamb opened the top right drawer of his desk and withdrew a card. "This is Mr. Smith's business card. His telephone and fax numbers are listed on there." He paused. "But if you think that you can somehow bully or cajole Mr. Smith into releasing either Samantha or Shannon from their employment contracts, you are sadly mistaken. Like myself, Mr. Smith does not make the rules, he follows them. What I have stated to you is not my own personal decision. It is corporate policy." He smiled disingenuously. "If it was up to me, of course, I would not hesitate to release them from their obligations."
"Bullshit," Bill repeated. He started toward the door. "You'll hear from my lawyers. My daughters are not working here and that is that."
"That is _not_ that, Mr. Davis." The personnel manager's voice was authoritative, edged with steel, and Bill stopped, turned around. "The contract we have with your daughters is legally binding."
"A court will determine that."
"A court _has_ determined that. Ventura versus The Store, Inc. The case went all the way to the Supreme Court in 1994. We won in a five-two ruling." Mr. Lamb fixed him with a cold stare. "I can provide you with documentation if you wish." "Yes," Bill said. "I wish." He believed Mr. Lamb, was sure the personnel manager was telling the truth, but he still wanted to cause that little prick as much inconvenience as possible, even if it only meant making him hunt up some Xeroxed copies of a legal brief.
Mr. Lamb opened another drawer, withdrew a sheaf of stapled pages, handed them across the desk.
Bill walked over, took them.
"Local law enforcement authorities have always been willing to uphold the law," the personnel manager said. "Simply stated, the police could make your daughters work. I don't think either of us want that, now, do we?"
Bill did not answer. If Juniper had had an autonomous police force, he would have told the man to fuck himself. But the fact was that with the police department privatized and The Store controlling the purse strings, the police probably would do whatever the hell The Store ordered them to do.
"I think our meeting is done," Mr. Lamb said, smiling again. "Thank you for taking the time to stop by. Have a nice day."
Bill looked it up online when he got home: Ventura versus The Store, Inc.
It had gone down exactly the way Lamb said it had.
He performed an online search for all court cases in which The Store was either plaintiff or defendant and came up with a whopping six hundred and fifty four suits that had gone to trial.
No wonder the country's legal system was so backed up. The Store was hogging half of the available court time.
He did not have the time right now to read the details of each suit, so he simply called up a list of the cases that The Store had won.
The company had triumphed in all six hundred and fifty-four.
An asterisk next to the case numbers indicated that twelve others besides Ventura had gone all the way to the Supreme Court.
How could he hope to fight something like that? He exited Freelink, turned off his PC, and walked dejectedly out to the kitchen. Shannon was lying on the living room carpet, watching a talk show. She looked up. "Do I still have a job?" she asked meekly.
Bill nodded silently, not trusting himself to answer without going on the attack.
"Told you so," Sam said from the hallway entrance.
He looked over at her, wanting to hit her, wanting to slap her.
She smiled.
TWENTY
1
An hour before the council meeting, Bill and Ben stopped by Street's house.
They did not play chess this time, merely drank beer.
According to Street, Doane was MIA, hadn't been seen for nearly a week.
And Kirby Allen, over at the Paperback Trader, was going to close his doors at the end of the month. Apparently, no one was interested in buying or trading used books anymore when they could get new books so cheaply at The Store.
"Whole fucking downtown's disappearing," he said.
"What about Doane?" Bill asked. "What do you make of that? It's not like him to just . . . vanish."
"Like Jed McGill?" Ben said softly.
All three of them were silent, the only sound the chirping of crickets somewhere outside.
Street started to say something, cleared his throat, then loudly slurped his beer, mumbling something incoherent.
"You think Doane's dead?" Bill asked.
Ben shrugged. "You think Jed's dead?"
"I don't know."
"What are we talking about here?" Street shook his head, slammed his beer can down on the coffee table. "You honestly think that in the United States of America, in the 1990s, workers at a discount store killed a grocer and a record shop owner so they could make a few more bucks?".
"That doesn't sound as implausible as you probably thought it would," Ben said.
"No," Street admitted. "It doesn't."
Bill turned toward him. "Have you been approached at all? Has anyone from The Store pressured you to quit or tried to put you out of business?"
"No."
"Not even any hints?"
"Maybe I'm just too dumb to get them."
"Your place might burn down," Ben said. "Like Richardson's."
"Thanks for the encouraging words."
They were quiet again.
"You realize what's happening?" Ben said finally.
"What?"
"For all intents and purposes, there's only one place to shop anymore. And I don't know if you've noticed, but our choices in products have been considerably narrowed since The Store's early days."
"I've noticed," Bill admitted.
"I call it corporate fascism." Ben stared into his beer can. "Juniper's turning into a company town, almost completely dependent on The Store, not only for food and merchandise, but jobs. We could shop somewhere else, we could drive to the Valley or Flagstaff or Prescott, but we're lazy and we don't. So we're forced to buy whatever
The Store offers. The Store determines how we eat, how we dress, what we read, what we listen to, almost every aspect of our lives."
Bill shook his head. "It's not quite that bad."
"Isn't it?"
Street snorted. " 'Corporate fascism'? The Store's more like a corporate vampire. It's sucking this town dry and growing stronger from it."
Bill sighed. "So what are we going to do?"
Ben glanced at his watch, finished off his beer. "We're going to go to the council meeting." He turned toward Street. "You coming?"
Street nodded. "Yeah. Count me in."
"No," Bill said, "I mean what are we going to do about The Store?"
"What can we do?" Ben asked.
Street smiled wryly. "Pray?"
"Not funny," Bill said. "Not funny at all."
The council meeting was once again sparsely attended and, until the end, routine and uneventful. Then Hunter Palmyra, in a low, subdued delivery that was totally unlike his usual voice, made a motion to add an item to the agenda.
"I would like to make a motion that we add the following agenda item under 'new business,'" Palmyra said. He cleared his throat and read from a paper in his hand. " The council hereby revokes Resolution 84-C, which grants an open ended license to participating food growers to enable them to sell their goods at a so-called farmer's market. It has been found that said farmer's market violates county and local health regulations in regard to the sale of foodstuffs and does not legally constitute a business under Juniper definitions because of the absence of a single proprietor.' " Palmyra looked up at the mayor, nodded.
The councilman was unable to look toward the audience, Bill noticed. He was too embarrassed and ashamed to face the public.
"They can't get rid of the farmer's market," Street said, shocked.
"They can and they will," Ben told him.
"We shop there, too," Bill said. "That's where Ginny buys most of our vegetables. They can't expect us to buy everything at The Store. Their produce is even worse than Buy-and-Save's was."
The council voted to add the item to the agenda.
"They're trying to legislate away competition," Street said. "They're trying to outlaw small businesses in this town." He looked from Ben to Bill.
"I'm going to go up there and give those assholes a piece of my mind."
"All right," the mayor said. "I don't think we need any discussion on this matter. Let's vote. A motion has been made to revoke the license for the so called farmer's market. Do I hear a second?"
"Seconded."
Street stood. "Just a minute!" he called out.
The mayor faced him. "Sit down," he said coldly, "or I will have you ejected from these proceedings."
"There's supposed to be a chance for public comment."
"It was determined that there was no public comment," the mayor said. "You would know that if you had paid attention." He glanced to his left and right at his fellow council members. "Let's put it to a vote. In favor?"
All hands went up.
"Opposed?"
None.
"It is hereby proclaimed that local growers cannot sell their fruits and vegetables directly to the public at a farmer's market."
"I would like to add an addendum," Dick Wise announced.
The mayor nodded. "Yes?"
"Seeing as how this might create a financial hardship for some of our farmers and ranchers, I propose that we allow them to sell their products to a legitimately licensed business." He smiled broadly. "That way, the public could still have access to their delicious fruits and vegetables and they could continue to make a living."
"Seconded," Palmyra said.
They voted again, once more without allowing public comment.
The addendum passed.
"Very well," the mayor said. "It is hereby proclaimed that local growers cannot sell their fruits and vegetables directly to the public, but that they may sell their goods to The Store." He looked directly at Street, smiled mockingly. "I trust that makes us all happy."
"You trust wrong, asshole."
The smile remained on the mayor's face as he motioned for the policeman standing next to the door.
Street stood voluntarily. "I'm going," he said. "I don't want to spend another fucking second in this hypocrites' hideout."
The mayor turned toward Bill. "Friend of yours?" he asked.
"As a matter of fact," Bill said proudly, "he is."
The meeting ended a few minutes later, and they walked outside to find Street pacing the parking lot, fuming. "Bastards," he said.
Ben grinned. "Welcome to the big, wide, wonderful world of local government."
"This can't be real," Street said. "They can't get rid of the farmer's market just like that, can they? By a quick vote?"
Ben snorted. "Oh, it's real, all right. And, yes, they can. They just did."
"People won't put up with it."
Ben put a condescending hand on his shoulder. "Yes, they will. You want to know what'll happen? I'll write about it in the paper and everyone'll read about it and shake their heads and say what a shame it is, and then they'll go back to eating their cornflakes."
Street was silent.
"He's right," Bill said. "I've seen it happen before."
"I say we wait for those fuckers. Wait for them to come out of those council chambers and beat the shit out of them right here in the parking lot.
Teach 'em a lesson."
"I wouldn't advise that."
They turned to see a uniformed policeman standing behind them.
The cop motioned toward Street's car. "I suggest you all get out of here now and head on home. Show's over."
"What if we don't want to go?" Street asked belligerently.
"Then I'll cite you for loitering and haul your asses inside that building there and let you spend the night in jail. How does that grab you?"
"It doesn't," Ben said. He grabbed Street by the arm. "Come on. Let's go."
"All right," Street said, pulling out of the editor's grasp. He took out his keys and started toward the car. "All right."
The policeman smiled at them as they walked. "You all have a nice night now, you hear?"
None of them answered, and they could still hear the cop's mocking laughter as they got into the car and drove away.
2
Bill spent the morning working on documentation, but he was still restless, even after taking a break for lunch, and he decided to take a walk into town. He asked Ginny to go with him, but she was busy planting flowers on the side of the house, so he went alone.
Main Street was dead -- no cars, no pedestrians -- and as he walked along the dirty sidewalk toward the electronics store, he could not help thinking that if the town council had been made up primarily of merchants instead of real estate and construction people, the situation would be completely different.
A couple of merchants _had_ run last time, he thought, but he was pretty sure he'd voted against them.
Why hadn't he gotten involved in politics earlier?
He reached the electronics store, walked in. Street was playing Tetris on a green-screened Gameboy, leaning against the register, facing the door. There were no customers, and Street looked up hopefully as Bill entered the shop. "Oh, it's you," he said, disappointed.
"Fooled you. You thought I was a real customer, didn't you?"
"Don't rub it in." Street finished his game, then put down the device. "On your way to the farmer's market?" he asked.
"Very funny."
"Just came down for a little shopping spree in beautiful downtown Juniper, then, huh?"
Bill walked around the counter, pulled out a folding chair, sat down.
"Whatever happened to that recall effort?" he asked. "Weren't you guys going to get together and start circulating petitions?"
"Last I heard."
"What happened?"
"I don't know. Nothing ever came of it. Pete was supposed to be in charge, but then he decided to sell his place, and it a
ll sort of fell apart."
"Maybe we should get it going again."
"I was thinking the same thing," Street admitted.
Street brought out a pen and notepad from the back room, and Bill began writing the text of a petition to recall the mayor and all four council members.
They were on the second draft when the phone rang. Street went to answer it.
"Hello? . . . It's Ben!" he announced.
Bill stopped writing.
"Bill's here . . . Yeah . . . Okay . . . See you in a minute." He hung up the receiver, looked at Bill with raised eyebrows. "He's corning right over.
Important news, he says. Wouldn't tell me over the phone."
Bill stood, walked to the door, saw Ben hurrying across the street. "It must be important."
"Big news," Ben said, walking up.
"What is it?"
"The mayor's resigned."
Bill was stunned. He glanced over at Street, who shook his head in disbelief. "You're serious?"
Ben nodded. "The council, too. All of them."
"_All_ of them?"
"What happened?" Street asked.
"No one knows. Or, rather, no one's talking. But it's effective immediately. We're without a local government at the moment." He chuckled. "Not that I'm complaining."
"So, is there going to be a special election?"
"Of course. But candidates have to file, the logistics have to be worked out. It'll be at least a month or so."
"Weird coincidence," Street said. "We were just working on a recall petition."
"Well, you won't need that puppy anymore. They're gone, they're out, they're history."
"I don't understand why they'd resign," Bill said. "Especially all of them at once."
"It's a strange world."
"You think pressure was put on them?"
"By The Store?"
"Who else?"
Ben thought for a moment. "I'd say that's a good possibility."
"But why? The council was a rubber stamp for everything The Store wanted."
"Maybe they didn't go far enough," Street suggested. "Maybe The Store wanted them to do even more."
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