Veronica smiled at Lola. She was a little shorter than Veronica, with shoulder-length straight brown hair and pretty hazel eyes. She had on a pair of blue capris, blue ballet flats, and a kind-of-blah white top. Veronica thought it was kind of boring and unimpressive for someone on the staff of Belle Pink. I guess she’s just a good salesperson. Veronica glanced down at her own outfit. She had added a striped, puff-sleeve plaid gray jacket over her yellow silk top and black denim jeans along with a grosgrain and chain necklace her mother had found in Paris.
“At Belle Pink it’s important that all the clothing tables are perfectly organized. And that means everything is perfectly folded,” Lola said. She held up a pair of jeans. “The seam and hemlines need to match, and the zipper should be up and the button buttoned.” Veronica watched as Lola expertly folded a pair of jeans on the table, pressing out any possible creases. “Like that.”
“Um . . . when are we going to start helping customers?” Veronica asked Lola after she demonstrated on four more pairs of pants and had Veronica do it as well.
“First things first,” Lola said a little primly. They moved on to shirts. Lola showed Veronica how to fold sweaters. Long-sleeved tops. T-shirts. Tank tops. And she began every lesson the same way. “At Belle Pink it’s important . . .” By the sixth demonstration, Veronica could feel her eyes beginning to glaze over.
Then Veronica noticed a grandmother-type woman in a frumpy green sweater walk in the store looking a little lost.
“Bonjour! Welcome to Belle Pink,” Lola said automatically. “Please let me know if I can help you find something magnifique.”
“I’m just browsing today. Thank you,” the woman said, going over to the sweaters they had just folded. She picked the top one up, looked at it . . . and dropped it back onto the pile. Then she went through the stack of T-shirts and did the same thing.
Veronica frowned. She was about to storm over and give that woman a piece of her mind when Lola stopped her.
“You can’t let that bother you,” Lola told Veronica. “It happens all the time. Every day. Every hour. It’s as if people wait for you to fold things just so they can demolish them.”
“That’s so frustrating!” Veronica said.
“At Belle Pink it’s important not to get frustrated,” Lola said, squaring her shoulders.
Apparently there were lots of things that were important at Belle Pink. And Lola knew each and every one of them.
The store was starting to get busier, so Veronica was surprised when Lola asked her to follow her to the back room.
“We’ve got a lot of boxes to get through,” Lola said, pointing to the towering stack of boxes Veronica had seen earlier. “The box cutters are kept on the desk. You need to open each box along the side first and then slit the top—that way you won’t slice through any merchandise inside and accidentally damage something. Once you get everything opened and remove the clothes, you take each item to the steamer and get it ready to put on the floor. At Belle Pink, it’s important that all our clothes are freshly pressed . . .”
Veronica stood in shocked silence as Lola outlined the entire process. “But . . . aren’t there stock people to do that kind of thing?” Veronica protested when she was finished. She wasn’t trying to complain or anything, but Veronica didn’t think opening boxes was really the best use of her talents.
Lola smiled at Veronica. “Yes, there are stock people to do that.” She pointed up at the schedule. And there, under the category Stock and Steam, was one name: VERONICA.
It had been the slowest six hours of Veronica’s life. Fold. Stack. Watch as a customer picks up the just-folded items and unfolds them. Seethe inside but smile at customer. Walk over. Refold. Restack. Over. And over. And over. And those twenty minutes were the high point of her shift. The rest of it had been spent in the back room slicing open large cardboard boxes.
Veronica got tiny bits of cardboard all over her black jeans. She’d dropped a box on her foot. The steamer had made her hot and sweaty. And she’d chipped her new manicure trying to pull open one of the boxes.
All in the name of fashion, I guess, she thought, walking dejectedly out of the store after signing out. Jane had left, Lola was working the cash register, and two other employees had shown up for their shifts.
“Hey, Veronica!”
She turned at the sound of a familiar voice. It was Kevin.
“How was it?” he asked, jogging over to her. His hair was wet—probably from the beach—and he had on long, blue board shorts and a gray T-shirt. “Make lots of big commissions today, huh?”
Veronica shook her head. “Commission? Uh, I was barely even allowed out of the back room. They kept me there the whole time like . . . like a prisoner.” She told Kevin about rule-abiding Lola. “I spent the entire day opening boxes and steaming clothes. Anytime a customer came in, Lola ran right over and began reciting the rulebook.”
Kevin laughed. “All in a day’s work, Veronica. Now you get to see how the other half lives.”
Veronica didn’t appreciate that comment. Just because her father was rich didn’t mean she was clueless about working for a living. She was about to tell Kevin that when he held up his hands in mock protest.
“Hey now. Don’t get upset. I’m just kidding around. I’m sure it’s going to get better. I mean, it can’t get worse, right?”
Veronica shrugged. “I guess not.” She looked down at her tired, aching feet. “And it was a total waste of cute shoes, too.”
“So if you were a prisoner back there, I guess it’s safe to say you didn’t see him,” Kevin said, wriggling his eyebrows. Veronica looked in the direction Kevin indicated with his chin. And there, in the computer store across from Belle Pink in the mall, was one of the hottest guys Veronica had ever seen. He was organizing a spinner rack in the front of the store. His chiseled arms reached to hang up cell phone skins. A girl with short, tousled black hair in a raven-colored tank dress was standing outside the store watching—or rather ogling—him. It was Midge Klump.
Veronica sucked in her breath. Her stomach filled with butterflies.
Maybe today wasn’t going to be a waste of cute shoes after all.
Chapter 5
“I saw him first,” Midge said with a huff.
“Technically, Kevin saw him first. But Kevin had to run, so now he’s entirely up for grabs,” Veronica told her, crossing her arms. “And, technically, you have a boyfriend. One Moose Mason, to be exact.”
Veronica had walked over and joined a surprised Midge. The two girls were now standing outside the store’s big, glass windows, pretending to be interested in the window display.
“Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to look,” Midge retorted. “It doesn’t hurt to flirt.”
“Okay,” Veronica said, lowering her voice. “I’ve got an idea.” She leaned over and whispered into Midge’s ear.
Midge grinned. “You’re on, Veronica. Just don’t take it too hard when you lose.”
Veronica surreptitiously pulled out her compact and slicked on some raspberry-colored lip gloss. Then she finger-fluffed her beautiful long, dark hair and brushed the lint off her jeans as best she could.
“Trying hard? So not cool,” Midge said, shaking her head so that her chandelier earrings jingled.
Veronica ignored her. “Watch and learn, Midge,” she whispered, sauntering inside the store as Midge tagged alongside her. “Watch and learn.” Veronica couldn’t help it: Guys just fell at her feet.
“Hi there,” a perky female employee said to the two girls. “Can I help you? We’re running some great promotions today!”
“Hmmm. Not yet,” Midge said as Veronica breezed past her. “Thanks, though.” They walked a little farther into the store.
Veronica clutched Midge’s arm. “There he is,” she hissed, spotting the hot guy. He was showing a customer a touch-screen phone. “Remember what I said. It’s important that we act natural.” She leaned against a beam, jutted out her hip, an
d gave Midge her biggest, most high-wattage smile.
“Yeah, that’s real natural, Veronica,” Midge said through gritted teeth. “Almost as natural as your hair color.”
Veronica’s eyes blazed. “I can’t believe you would even—”
“Hi, ladies. Need any help?”
Veronica sucked in her breath. It was Hot Guy. And he was even hotter up close. He had shaggy brown hair, warm brown eyes, and a cute, slightly crooked smile that made him look instantly approachable. And even though he was wearing a store employee outfit of khakis and a green T-shirt, he wore the latest sneakers and a cool hemp bracelet. Veronica was sure that when he was able to pick out his own clothes, he had excellent fashion taste.
“Hey, what’s going on? Um, I’m interested in a new laptop,” Midge said, smiling nervously at him. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “What can you tell me about this one?” She hesitated and then pointed to a random laptop.
Veronica watched intently as the guy—whose name tag said LIAM—explained the features of the various laptops. In between all the information about processors and graphics and pixels and battery life, she waited to see if there were any sparks between him and Midge. Although Liam was superfriendly and knowledgeable, she didn’t detect a single spark of romantic interest in poor Midge on his behalf.
“So you think this one would be a good choice?” Veronica asked, pointing to a thin silver model. She tossed her hair back flirtatiously.
Liam nodded. “Definitely. Not only is it light, it’s beautifully streamlined.”
Veronica beamed, batting her eyelashes. “Oh, wow.”
Midge jabbed her finger into Veronica’s ribs as Liam walked them over to another display. “He’s talking about the computer, Veronica. Not you.”
“Now this one is a beauty,” he said, holding up another laptop. Veronica felt her breath catch in her throat. When he said beauty, there was no doubt he was looking straight at her.
“I wasn’t really in the market for a new laptop, but after seeing all these new models, maybe I should be,” Veronica said, moving closer to Liam. She pointed to the laptop. “Can you show me how it works?”
“Veronica, I thought you hated using a laptop.” Midge cut in suddenly—and very rudely, Veronica thought—as she glared at her. “Isn’t that what you were telling Archie and Reggie last week?”
Veronica gave Midge a withering look. “That’s right, Midgie. I told my friends that I hated the laptop I had.” She turned back to Liam. “If I had one like this, though, I wouldn’t be able to put it down!”
Liam nodded. “Yeah, absolutely. This is the best laptop on the market. It’s got up to nine hours of battery life, superfast graphics, and it’s energy efficient.”
“Say no more,” Veronica said. Because I just want to gaze at your adorable face. But of course she didn’t say that. “Wrap it up, please. I’ll take it.”
Liam looked surprised. “Uh, are you sure? Don’t you want to know how much it costs first?”
Veronica beamed at him. “I’m sure it’s fine. Let’s just go ring it up.”
“That was beneath even you, Veronica,” Midge hissed in her ear as they followed Liam toward the cash register. “Buying your way to a guy’s heart? Real classy.”
“Oh please,” Veronica said, brushing her off. Normally she really liked Midge—unless she was being annoying. Like she was right now. “Whether you believe me or not, I really do need a new laptop. You’re just jealous that he’s obviously into me and not you.”
Midge shrugged. “He works here. You’re a customer with money. Of course he’s going to act like he likes you. But don’t think you have it in the bag just yet.”
“Shhh,” Veronica whispered as they arrived at the counter. She took out her American Express Black card and handed it over. For a moment she thought about Betty and how important getting a laptop was to her friend. She knew it wasn’t really fair that she could just come in and buy one while her best friend had to scrimp and save all summer long.
But if she’d let me, I’d buy her one in a second, Veronica thought guiltily. She loved being generous with her friends, but she’d learned over the years that her true friends really didn’t feel comfortable with her buying them gifts or things they needed. So she had stopped offering, even if it would make everyone’s lives easier.
“I’ve never seen a card like this,” Liam said, examining Veronica’s credit card. “It’s really cool.”
“My father gave it to me,” Veronica explained. “He was one of the first people in the world to get one. You have to spend a certain amount on it or something. I forget.”
Liam rang up the purchase as another employee put Veronica’s new laptop in a shopping bag and handed it to her.
“I hope you love it,” Liam told her, nodding toward the bag. “If you have any questions on how to use some of the functions . . . or, uh, anything, you can just give me a call.” He grinned sheepishly. “I put my store contact card in the bag.”
“Oh great!” Veronica said happily, resisting the urge to smirk in Midge’s face. Looks like I literally have it in the bag after all. “I just started working at Belle Pink . . . the store across from you. So maybe we’ll see each other sometime.”
“That would be cool,” Liam said. He gave a little wave. “Bye.”
“Bye,” Veronica said, giving him one last smile as Midge barely lifted her chin in a halfhearted nod.
“Sorry it didn’t go your way, Midge,” Veronica said, feeling as light and bubbly as a glass of seltzer. “But you and Moose make such a cute couple,” she reminded her friend. “Harmless flirting is fine, but I just can’t see you going out with anyone but him. I’m sorry, but it’s true.”
Midge gave Veronica a stony glare . . . and then she laughed. “As much as I hate to say it, you’re probably right.”
The drudgery of the day had washed away, and now all Veronica could think about was working her next shift. Maybe Liam will be working then, too!
“Easy come, easy go,” Midge said with an exaggerated sigh. “I just wish I could warn the poor guy . . . from what I’ve heard, dating Veronica Lodge should come with an instruction manual.”
Spoiled, selfish, bratty . . . Veronica had heard all the mean labels before. But they didn’t bother her. Not one bit.
“Why should I apologize for being a confident person? I’m just a girl who knows what she wants,” she said simply, swinging the shopping bag back and forth in her hand.
And right now she wanted Liam.
Chapter 6
“Here you go: one chef’s salad, one order of french fries, and a cheeseburger.” Betty smiled brightly at her customers: a middle-aged couple wearing matching blue T-shirts.
The woman frowned. “I told you I wanted the blue cheese dressing on the side.”
The man shook his head. “And I ordered a grilled cheese.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Betty apologized, picking up his platter. “You’re right.”
“Of course I am,” the man said, chuckling. He shot a self-righteous look at his wife. “I am the customer.”
What a dork. But still, Betty managed a smile and then turned and dashed off.
Today was her second day on the job, and Betty couldn’t believe how hard being a waitress was—much harder than Betty had ever thought, and Betty had thought it was going to be hard. Being a customer at Pop’s Chocklit Shoppe was a completely different experience from being an employee.
And right now I wish I was a customer, Betty thought enviously as some girls she recognized from school came in laughing and joking around. They sat in Georgette’s section.
Betty sighed. But if she wanted a new laptop, she was going to have to give up being a customer for a while.
Betty had spent most of yesterday training under Pop’s watchful eye. He told her that normally he would never put someone brand-new on as a waitress—he’d have the newbie shadow a more experienced staffer for at least a week. But because Pop’s was so
busy right now, there wasn’t time to do things the normal way. Betty was just going to have to learn as she went.
And she had a lot of learning to do.
“Miss? Utensils?” a woman prompted, gesturing to the table.
“Oh, sure. Sorry!” Betty hurried into the kitchen.
“Betty, the food isn’t supposed to come back once it leaves my kitchen,” barked Mikey, the cook.
Betty swallowed, trying not to sound nervous. “I, uh, made a mistake. I ordered a cheeseburger instead of a grilled cheese for one of my tables.”
Frowning and muttering some not so very nice words, Mikey took back the unwanted cheeseburger and made Betty a grilled cheese.
“They did want American cheese, right?” he asked, handing the sandwich over.
“Oh . . . yes. Mm-hmm. American,” Betty said, even though she had no idea. For all she knew, they wanted Vermont cheddar. Note to self: Ask customers what kind of cheese they want when they order cheese.
The right sandwich now in hand, Betty ran back out to deliver it. On her way, she dropped off a place setting to the woman who needed one.
People were so aggravating. Drink refills, extra ketchup, more napkins . . . couldn’t anyone just be content with what they had? No one seemed satisfied. And why couldn’t people order what they wanted at once instead of adding things once the order was complete?
Betty had to carry a tray full of chocolate milkshakes out to a table of rowdy nine-year-old boys celebrating a soccer victory. For once in her life, being smart didn’t matter—carrying a tray heavier than ten backpacks without spilling its contents was what counted.
“All right!” the boys cheered as Betty carefully lowered the tray and began doling out the shakes.
As Betty handed over the last one, she wiped her hands on her soiled apron and smiled. She hadn’t spilled a single one.
It almost made up for the tray of sodas she had dropped that morning.
On her way into the kitchen, Georgette signaled to her. “You’ve got some important customers at table twenty-three,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “They requested to sit in your section.”
Living the Dream Page 3