Chasing Shadows

by Liana Hakes-Rucker

  When they are gone I slip my little round key out of my pocket and into the slot marked B. With a ding that even I can hear, the elevator heads for the basement. It stops on the ground floor first. Here Ashley is waiting along with our old, hippie co-worker Heath. Every work place has an old hippie. Our old hippie has psoriasis. Heath's face is in the process of molting. I concentrate on not staring at the old dude and not avoiding looking at him either. You have to strike just the right balance of attention to seem like the sight of flaking skin doesn't fascinate you. I'm so caught up in my political correctness that I almost miss the angry, injured look on Ashley's face. I haven't mentioned the breakfast we went to the other day, yesterday I guess, and I may never. It was brutal for both of us.

  We arrive at the basement and I remove my ear buds. It’s still too early to clock in. I dump my bag on the floor by the employee coat rack and head to the break room for coffee. I ignore Ashley because I lack the social skills to do otherwise. After yesterday, what should I say? What can I? I mean she literally said, very loud, in public... never mind. She made her position clear. My boots squeak on the tile letting everyone know two things. One: It’s raining outside. Two: I am here! Screech, screech.

  Shelving Fairy is already here. She smiles up at me. She's sitting across the gray, plastic table from Doug. Doug's eyebrows are catching the fluorescent light and giving his mannish face a crazy glow.

  "Hey." Doug says, pulling out the chair next to him for me to sit in. This surprises me as I've never really spoken to Doug before.

  "Join us." Shelving Fairy chirps.

  "K." I am suspicious immediately. Both of these people are wearing looks of expectation that can only bode ill for me. I nod to Doug and say to Shelving Fairy something non committal like "What's up?"

  Doug adjusts his phone on his studded belt before answering in a hushed voice, as if I had asked him instead of Shelving Fairy. "Fin told me."

  Oh hell, I think. Then I get distracted. Wait, he said Fin. "Fin." I repeat after him trying not to make it sound like a question.

  Shelving Fairy blushes. "Doug calls me Fin. I think it’s cool."

  Huh. "So, should I start calling you Fin?" I ask. I'm about to get a name for Shelving Fairy!! This is awesome. Now I'll be able to use it to cuss her out appropriately for confiding a secret of mine to man she doesn't even know! Ashley would never have done that. At least I don't think she would have. I guess. I don't know since I never told her.

  Shelving Fairy shrugs. "You don't have to. You can still call me Cassie."

  Eureka! I smile. "So why Fin?" I ask Doug.

  "That's from my last name, dumb ass! Finoglio." Shelving Fairy, I mean Cassie, rolls her eyes. I tell myself to try and remember Finoglio as I take a sip of my coffee and cringe, fucking holidays. The cafe gets its coffee flavors from corporate. Staff coffee is whatever's not selling. This one is trying to be pumpkin pie, or apple sauce, or some other damn thing that doesn't belong in coffee.

  "I think I'll call you Fin, maybe."

  Doug is beaming at Cassie, Fin, Shelving Fairy, in a way that makes me embarrassed for both of them. “So, Meegan,” He says. “Don’t worry. I’m not telling or anything. I get it, totally private, like emotionally heavy. But you should know, the guys in the band will think this totally rocks. We’re like, guaranteed to write a song about you.” He puffs up his considerable chest. He is so proud of himself. He clearly doesn’t know I’d like to kick his teeth in... He’s planning to tell his band... His fucking band. Fuck wad. He continues talking as I fume. I just catch the end. “You know cause I like have you to thank for, uh...”

  Fin smiles a big goofy grin and flips her dark hair over her shoulder. The hair is long enough that it swats the chair behind her where Ashley is sitting, with her back to the group, pretending to read. Maybe she really is reading, whatever, to me it looks like eaves dropping. “Yeah I never would have had the guts to just ask you out like that if Meegan hadn’t said you liked me. Meegan you are so totally perceptive.” Fin says. And now I get a blast of the smitten smile from her. It’s disarming I’m ashamed to admit.

  “Yeah so.” Doug shifts forward so his elbows are on the table. “Fin’s coming to practice on Saturday, and if you’re off, you should come too.”

  I try to keep a blank face. There is almost nothing I am less interested in than watching a bunch of trendy, douche bag, boys practice whatever trash chords they’ve managed to string together into something called a song. There is a tiny possibility that I am looking at a member of the next Nirvana, but I doubt it. I open my mouth to voice some polite refusal when I see Ashley’s smirk. So what comes out of my mouth is:

  “Sure. Sounds cool. What kind of music do you guys play?” Oh God, I am going to regret this. Mentally I’m already stealing myself and preparing a little list of compliments I’m going to have to cop to.

  Shelving Fairy, no Fin, looks visibly relieved. She doesn’t give Doug a chance to answer. “Oh thank God.” She says. “I was sure you were going to say no, actually, and I only know Doug, so I was really nervous about meeting his friends, uh, band mates, by myself.”

  Doug runs a long bony hand through his hair and I want desperately to smooth his eyebrows. I see Ashley get up so I check my phone. 10:55. Time to check in.

  ***

  I saunter down the main aisle of non-fiction on the second floor, pushing a cart of migrating books. Those are the ones that move to other sections where they don’t belong during the daytime. I keep a trash bag tied to my hip and disposable gloves in my back pocket. So my walk has a sound track: crackle, swish, crackle, swish as my hips move. No one else on my shift carries a trash bag, but no one else stocks near so many of Flagship’s deep window ledges. The ledges are wide enough to sit on, which of course customers do. They wouldn’t, if they knew what I know. The book shelves butt up to the windows, creating cozy nooks for reading and quiet contemplation. For the homeless, crazy, or nasty people of the city these are also excellent places to pee, jack off, rip up books, eat stolen candy, throw trash, discard tampons, leave condoms, etc. Once I found a used hair dye kit. Evidently there was a customer who found it imperative to go auburn right then. Like; ‘I’m just sick to death of this blonde, DAMN IT!’

  I reach the history section and turn down the medieval row. Stocking is awesome. It’s meditative, and just engaging enough to keep me from over thinking all the other aspects of my life. I am in the process of moving all the books over and up, to make room for my re-shelves, when I see movement to my right. I look there, to the window. I’m on the second floor like I said. The plate glass is a big dark pool with city lights barely visible beyond my own reflection. There it goes again. It’s a dark little flicker, reminiscent of a bird but less solid. It’s right there between the shelf and the window. It even has a reflection! Oh my God, when have I seen one straight on before? Ever? There is a tap on my shoulder. I turn but, surprise, no one there. With a nervous sigh I go back to my task. What else should I do? They’ve never appeared at work before. It must be stress. I know I’m crazy, but this is getting out of hand isn’t it?

  “Jesus.” I mumble.

  “He’s not here.” Ashley sneers, surprising me. “We keep him and all his other crazy friends by the elevator. You should know that.”

  I stiffen. “I thought you were done with me.” I say, trying and failing to keep the resentment out of my voice.

  Ashley hooks her thumbs into her belt loops and places a delicately shod foot on my cart. How can she wear heels like that? “You’re such a cow.” She says quietly. “You didn’t even know Cassandra’s name two days ago, and now she’s your replace-a-friend? I hope she likes keeping track of all of your shit for nothing. Not even a thank you. Honestly,” Ashley looks over her shoulder. “I don’t think she’s up to it. She’s too tiny to hold you together, and too smart not to see through your bullshit. I wish I had been.”

  “Look.” I say. “I told you I’m sorry. I took you for granted. I’m a shit. I know it,
so forgive me or fuck off.” I hold my breath. Was that too strong?

  Ashley’s face is frozen in a sick looking smile. With a graceful little leg stretch she knocks my cart over, spilling books, magazines and sideline merchandise on the floor. Now she turns on her heel and sashays towards the escalators.

  That’s right, I think, I’m selfish and juvenile. Poor, poor you for putting up with me all this time... Cunt bag. I calmly finish my book shifting before tackling the spilled cart. I’m just starting to stack the books back up, when I can hear Allen approaching from the children’s section. Allen is the supervisor. Everyone calls him Super Al behind his back, but from what I know he’s pretty cool for a boss. He’s wearing pleated gray pants with a thin black belt that bands across his spherical mid section like the metal rings on a wooden barrel, or twine around a hay bale... You get the idea.

  He stops when he gets to my row. “Tipped the cart huh?” Super Al makes super observations. I know from watching other people that I’m supposed to laugh here. Like observations alone count for observational humor. I chuckle obligingly. “Gotta be careful though.” Says Super Al. “We’re in line for the safety bonus again, so don’t you be the one who blows it.”

  “Yes Sir.” I say with what I hope is a sweet, friendly, sane smile.

  “I’ve told you Meegan, Call me Allen. Sir is my father.”

  How old do you have to be before you must relinquish the use of that line? Another polite laugh seems required here. “How about Super Al?” I ask. Oh shit, shit poo. Did I just say that out loud? Allen looks quizzical. I feel I should explain. “Cause you’re the supervisor?” I say softly, while batting my eyelashes.

  There is a pause, during which I am sure the fate of my job is being decided, before Allen bursts out laughing. It’s a big rolling Santa Claus laugh that suits his figure. “That’s great.” he says. “Or should I say, that’s super.” Super Al winks and continues on his round.

  I groan inwardly. He is such a dad, I think, but then I stop myself. How would I know really?

  ***

  Its 7:06 in the morning. I and seven co-workers, Super Al included, wait at the door like kids at a concert. We hold our bags open, one at a time, for the day shift manager to riffle through. If you bring any books, movies or CDs to work, it would behoove you to have your receipt taped to the front of them, no matter where you bought them. I tape all my receipts to the inside, front cover. I smile remembering my last purchase, and how much evil joy I took in buying seven different books on seven separate transactions, and then taping the receipts in right there, with the cashier’s tape. That day shifter still glares at me when he sees me. Fuck him though: silly, cashiering motherfucker. I laugh a to myself before I realize I’m doing it.

  Oh well, everyone lets out an unexplained, sinister, little chuckle once in while right? At least I’m not ducking invisible shadows. Which reminds me of the one I saw in the history section. Damn, Ashley made me forget it until just now. I’ll have to think about that on the ride home. It was so much more real than the others have ever been. I wonder if it’s time to check myself into an asylum. I know I won’t though, no matter how justified. I will wait for the cops to come cart my ass away like any other self respecting lunatic. I’m hungry and I really need a cigarette.

  ***

  Want to get to know your co-workers the fast way? Have your hair dyed three different colors. I am cringing inwardly and trying for some posture that is neither conceited nor mouse-like. It’s below forty degrees tonight. Usually colder weather thins the heard when it comes to smokers, but tonight almost everyone who can stand to smoke is smoking. They've all come out to continue to gawk at me. Fin insisted I wear my hair down tonight in order to better display her handiwork. The hair is basically blonde with light pinky-red stripes. Then there are the two streaks of baby blue located just above and in front of my ears. If I were to tie the top half of my hair back the blue would show, but with the hair down it just suggests itself under there. I am not entirely sure how I feel about this. Inwardly I cannot refer to it as my hair, it’s the hair. At least it'll make Halloween easy; Rainbow Bright it is.

  Betty, the co-worker who always likes me, smiles. "You did good Cassandra." She puts the emphasis on 'san'. "Fixed up my baby."

  I smile too. I'm not sure what I ever did to get on Betty's good list. I'm more than a little afraid that it's all a misunderstanding, but that never stops me from basking in the unwavering acceptance of Betty's superior personality.

  "Thank you, Miss Betty." Fin says. "You can call me Fin though, Doug started that and I like it."

  "Ha! Bull shit little girl." Betty says. "Did your mother call you Fin?" When Betty says fin it sounds like a kind of slug. I laugh. This is great. Fin rolls her eyes. Betty continues, "And what happens when you dump that boy, Doug." Betty snorts. "Stupid ass name if you ask me, which I realize you didn't, but that doesn't matter."

  I laugh some more, giggle actually, like a kid.

  "You shut up." Fin says to me. "Or I'll turn you back into a frog. Meegan calls me Fin." She says to Betty.

  "Hmm." Betty takes a very effeminate drag off her cigarette and squints at me.

  I just laugh again. With this hair it’s really all I can do.

  At this moment Kathy comes to the door. "Breaks over ladies and gentlemen." Her high voice is trying hard to sound friendly.

  "Yes Ma'am." Betty calls back, and with her as our leader, we all file back into Flagship.

  Kathy is our supervisor tonight as Super Al must, by law, be allowed some nights off. When we've all gotten through the door she locks it and says, "Hold on everybody, we're having a staff meeting. Everyone please head up to the cafe so we can get started."

  ***

  At the meeting I take my spot next to Fin and Doug. Conceptually, one would imagine that the purpose of holding a staff meeting in the cafe is so that everyone can sit. This is not so. All the chairs are up on the tables, waiting for the cleaning crew who comes in at five to mop the floors. Taking them down would only mean putting them back up again, so we all stand around in a semi-circle facing Kathy. Funny, there never seems to be any call for a staff meeting when Super Al is here.

  Kathy clears her throat and smoothes the front of her tight fitting, red, angora sweater. She is wearing it over khaki colored pants and brown sensible shoes. Kathy's boobs are each roughly the size of her head. When she feels like she has our attention, Kathy begins to speak.

  "The reason I called you is not a good one." She smiles regretfully. "Day shift has had this meeting earlier, so some of you may already know. Two days ago the floor safe behind the registers came up short, and this isn't the first time." She holds up a hand to stop the objections she imagines are coming. "Now I know you're going to say that the store is only open for the first hour of your shift, but that is also the hour before we close out the drawers for the night. And I also know that none of you are cashiers, so you don't have pass codes to the registers and only managers are supposed to have pass codes to the safe..." She pauses for dramatic effect, or to catch her breath. "Still someone is doing it, and we can't yet rule anyone out. Also, and this is more relatable, shrinkage has gone up noticeably this month, and corporate suspects employee theft. Frankly, I've seen the numbers, and I suspect too. So, what this all boils down to is, bag checks at shift change are going to become more thorough and we can't have anyone taking breaks outside anymore, especially at night."

  A chorus of groans drowns her out now. Fuck. Fucking, sneaky bastards. I have two main thoughts on this. One: I know that, as a sentiment, it’s corny and over done but, why do they have to punish the innocent with the guilty? Don't answer that. Two: There is no theft. This is an elaborate ploy to disallow smoking. Nazis!

  Kathy claps her hands to get our attention. "Hey now. I'm sorry, but there's more. You need to be extra careful about keeping your receipts with your belongings, and if you have to bring an item that you don't have a receipt for, you have to get it stickered by a day sh
ift manager before you pass the registers on your way in. This means you’ll need to get here early enough to have a cashier call a manager to come up and check your bag on your way in. I know, I know.” She acknowledges the grumbles with a sympathetic head shake. “The best thing is just not to carry merchandise with you. Now, at the managers meeting we decided that we’re all going to make an effort to be on the first floor, near to the registers as the next shift is coming in, but you know how things can get. Its no guarantee, and needing to get stickered is not an acceptable excuse for tardiness.” Kathy takes a deep breath. “Now, just to let you all know how serious we are about this, I have to tell you. If you are caught with merchandise for which you do not have a receipt, you will be given a decision making day without pay, and you may have to go leave without pay while we check the security cameras. Its no fun, let me tell you. Its boring as heck to sift through all that camera footage checking on an entire shift when you know that the person you’re looking at isn’t guilty...” Kathy takes a second to shift the papers she’s laid on the shelf beside her. “Oh yes, that’s right.” She says. “I also need to warn you that once the day people leave, we will be setting the alarm system. So we’ll all be locked in here until the shift ends. Related to that you should know, if any of the doors are opened without first disabling the security system, the silent alarm will go off. This means that the cops and the fire department will both come. If they come and it’s not a real emergency, the store will be fined $500.00. If you are the reason for a false alarm, like you just had to sneak a cigarette and thought no one would know, then that $500.00 will come out of your paycheck. Now I have forms here for you all to sign saying that I’ve told you about the alarm and the bag checks, so if you violate the new policies you won’t be able to say you didn’t know. And by the way, kindly notice, I waited until after your smoke break tonight to tell you about the policy changes... you’re welcome.”