Chasing Shadows (14 page)

I make no verbal reply.

"Hey." he pauses. He seems to feel awkward. I
would like to capitalize on that but I don't know how just yet. I
see Fin as she's descending the escalator. She sees me and she
smiles. It's like a shark smiling. I wonder what she wants. "So."
Doug goes on. "Qasim talks about you a lot."

I sigh. "That's weird."

"No its not." Doug's tone is beseeching. "He's
a mess. He knows he blew it. He can't stop thinking about you. He's
written, like three songs for you."

I think immediately of Luis Finch and his
electronica tributes to Madeline. It gives me chills. "Why are you
telling me this?"

"Because he really likes you." Doug
says.

"No I mean like why are
you
telling me
this? Are we in junior high?" I smile on the inside. I don't
remember junior high, but I know this is the kind of thing people
say in moments like these.

Fin closes the distance. She wraps her arm
around Doug and addresses me. "You know how you are, Meegan.
Qasim's afraid that if he comes here to talk to you, you'll ignore
him like you did before."

I nod. "That's a valid fear."

Fin sighs like she's Mother Teresa and I'm
hopelessly lost. "Don't be such a hard assed bitch." She says.
"He's a good guy. You liked him. I know you did."

I cross my arms and look longingly towards the
elevator. They're blocking my way. Fin steps closer, trying to get
in my line of sight which is difficult for her as she's so
short.

"Hey." She says.

I look at her trying to keep a pleasant
face.

"You owe me."

I scowl. "I
owe
you?"

"Yes, you owe me." She stands even straighter.
"I invited you to meet my friends, and you thanked me by getting
plastered and making an ass of yourself. For
some
reason
they like you. Francis keeps asking why I don't bring you back, and
Carol smiles when we talk about you, which we do way,
way
,
too much. Doug and I have agreed that you can't come back 'til you
get things straightened out with Qasim. I don't care if you make
him your boyfriend but
at least
you can go out with him once
and make it all better, for
me
."

"Huh." I disagree with Fin's little speech on
several points, and I'm about to tell her so when I see Ashley out
of the corner of my eye. I turn to her. "What do you
think?"

She seems surprised but not angry. A little
flicker of hope stirs in my heart. "I don't know; I wasn't
there."

"I wish you had been."

Ashley puts her hands in her pockets. "I was
surprised you went in the first place."

Fin looks put out.

Doug has already disengaged. He's turned to
browse the bookshelf we're standing by. It's a seasonal display and
it’s packed with pumpkin carving how to-s, make up kits and ghost
stories.

Ashley continues. "It might be good for you
though, to go out with the guy. It’s the squeaky one from Monday,
right?"

I nod.

Doug snaps his head to us. "Hey. You should
hear his singing voice." He says indignantly to Ashley. "It's
ethereal. Tell her." He nods at me.

Ashley smiles and I smile too. "It's ethereal."
I say.

Fin puts her hands on her hips. "If you work it
out with Qasim, then you can bring Ashley when you come back." She
makes it sound like I've been excommunicated.

"You'd like Francis." I tell Ashley. She gives
me a look I cannot possibly decipher and turns to walk away. I
sigh. "I have to go to work." I say and we three follow Ashley to
the elevator.

Once we've all put our stuff up and clocked in,
Ashley corners me in the break room. "You'd want me to come?" She
asks without looking at me.

My eyes widen. "I miss you." I almost whisper
it.

She sniffs. "I think you should go out with
him. I mean, you can't blame him for getting weirded out with all
the shit you told him."

"You know?" I screech.

Now
she's looking at
me. "Yes I
know
!" She glowers. "Not
that you told
me
any of that crap.
What are you making shit up so you'll seem more
interesting?"

"Christ." I say. "Who told you
anyway?"

"Qasim told me." She sputters, her blond hair
getting in her eyes so she has to toss her head which adds to the
moment. "He believes you, even though I told him you were full of
shit. If any of that junk was true you'd have
told
me." She
glares at me.

"Why is Qasim talking to you?"

"You were full of shit right?"

I stare at the floor and feel my cheeks
burning. "We're going to get in trouble, we've already clocked
in."

Ashley sighs, turns her back to me and walks to
the elevator. I follow her begrudgingly, wishing there were two
elevators so I wouldn't have to ride up with her. God, she is such
a
girl
. I thought she was going to make nice. I never know
what's going on. We walk silently into the elevator and hit the
buttons for our respective floors.

When the doors close Ashley says. "You never
really told me anything you know?" Are those tears I hear in her
voice?

I look at her.

"That's why you should give him a chance." She
says. "If you liked him enough to tell him a secret, you should
give him a chance." Oh great, now I feel like a total shit. The
elevator dings and opens up on two. I get out without a reply. What
could I say?

Trying not to think about it, I throw myself
into work. I break a sweat. I go the extra mile. I straighten, and
clean, and shelve, and alphabetize with passion. I'm riding the
escalator a couple of hours later with a cart full of self help
books. I've pretty much forgotten about how I'm a bad person, when
I see a little flicker of darkness down amongst the biblical
reference books. I head that way just to check it out. I'm nearing
the aisle I saw it on. I come up on it. I crane my neck to see
around the shelf.

"Jesus!" I screech.

"What?" It’s Doug, a real person.

I sigh. "You surprised me."

He laughs. "Found a concordance up in the art
books." He says. "You're gonna go out with Qasim,
right?"

I groan. "I never said."

"I gave him your number."

"Why? It's not like I'll answer."

"Look, he's gonna call you on break. Just
answer. I told him you'd be nice."

I shake my head and push my cart on by to the
self help section. A person should never tell another person that
I
will be nice. There's just no way to know.

Doug follows me. "If you're mean to my
friend..." He doesn't know what to say. I guess he can't think of a
good enough threat.

"If I'm mean to you're friend?" I prompt,
noticing his eyebrows for the first time today; I must be
slipping.

"That wouldn't be cool." It would sound lame.
It probably does sound lame. It’s a mark of my heightened emotional
state that the sincerity in his voice hits my guilt instead of my
sinicism.

I roll my eyes. “I don’t want to be mean to
him.” I say glumly.

“Cool.” Doug smiles and goes to the escalators
headed back to his work area.

It takes me a while. I’m almost all the way
through the alcoholism section, before I can forget about the
situation again. It occurs to me that I haven’t seen any of my
ominous spiritual advisors today. Huh. I wonder if I’m not
interesting to them anymore. Now I chide myself, Attention whore.
How much cosmic focus do you even think you could
handle
in
one day?

***

Break time came and went. I won’t give all the
awkward details, but I will tell you it was
not
a private
conversation, and suffice it to say I’ll see the schmuck on Tuesday
which is my next night off. Its 7 AM now, finally, and I’m one of
the first to get to the basement to clock out. I absolutely
never
clock out late. They’re not gonna pay me for the one
or two minutes of overtime, so why give it to them? I swipe my
badge and head to the coat rack.

Ha! A shade! It’s hovering around my bag. So
that’s where you’ve been hiding, I think at it. I’m happy to see
him. I don’t know if it’s the same one as before but its glowing a
bit blue. I smile with familiarity as I hoist the bag over my
shoulder. I almost luxuriate in the icy chill the shade sends down
my leg. I missed you guys today, I think at him. Why him? I don’t
know. Because he’s blue?

By the time I get to the front its 7:03. I’m
second in line behind Betty. She has to pick up her grand babies
this morning so she’s not messing around. I shiver. The shade is
jiggling my bag. Day shift management is moving at the speed of
sleepy. It seems to take him forever to go through Betty’s purse. I
sigh and hop up and down a bit, mature, I know.

When Betty’s finally done, she makes some see
you later noises and pushes through the door. I wave and set my bag
on the counter. The manager opens it, and wouldn’t you know the
first thing he pulls out is a copy of Shakespeare’s Trollop by
Charlaine Harris. Huh. I know I have that in hard back. When did I
buy the soft cover? I don’t usually re-read little mysteries like
that. The manager opens the book. No receipt. Oh fuck! I didn’t buy
the soft cover. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

The manager, a young short guy, looks up at me
with a question in his eyes. “No sticker?” He asks
dryly.

I turn red. “That’s not my book.”

His eyes bug out a little.

I feel I must go on. “I own it in hard back. I
don’t have the soft cover. It’s not mine.”

“Why is it in your bag?" He asks
reasonably.

I shrug, I should have lied. Why didn’t it
occur to me to lie? “I have no idea. Somebody must’ve put it
there.”

Short guy gives me a look. He picks up the
phone and calls over the loud speaker. “Management to bag check
please. Member of management to the bag check.” He looks at the
line of night shifters behind me. “You’re going to have to wait for
Sam.” There’s a general groan. I get some dirty looks. Well, balls.
Short manager turns to me. “I’m going to have to ask you to come
down to the office with me.” I reach for my bag but he grabs it
first. “I have to carry this.” He says. I roll my eyes, excellent.
He starts off and I dutifully follow him. Dread is beginning to
converge in my stomach. I’m pretty sure this is going to suck. We
arrive at the office and Short Manager points to a seat. I sit. He
now empties the rest of the contents of my bag out onto the desk.
He reddens a little when he gets to the tampons. I smile. I’m glad
he’s uncomfortable, little prick. At last he’s done. He replaces
the contents and sits across the desk from me. “Why was the book in
your bag?”

I bite my tongue before I can snap at him for
being repetitive. “I don’t know.” I say. “Like I told you, it’s not
mine. I didn’t come in with it. All of my books have the receipts
taped inside the cover. Ask anybody. One of my coworkers must’ve
done it.”

He looks skeptical. “You know we’re going to
review the tapes.”

“Please do.” I tell him. “Can we start now? I’d
like to know who thinks this is cute.”

Short Manager drums his fingers on the table.
“No. Management will do it when we have the time but it’s
not
priority number one. We have a store to run.”

I glare at him.

“So.” He says, not withering one bit under my
glare. “I’m placing you on leave without pay pending the
investigation.”

I sigh. “Bullshit. I didn’t do
anything.”

He shrugs. “That’s the policy.”

“How do I know when to come back to
work?”

“We’ll call you.”

Well shit. “So I should call up here every day
until you tell me something; that’s what I’m hearing.”

He shakes his head. “If that’s what you want to
do, won’t make it happen any faster.”

“How long?" I ask plaintively. “I mean, do I
need to find another job in the meantime? Are we talking less than
a week? What?”

“Depends on how busy we are.” He says. “And if
you were stealing.”

I suppress a growl. “When you find out I’m not
a thief, will I get my pay reimbursed or am I just screwed for the
hours?”

He makes a noncommittal gesture. “According to
the policy you signed, you are responsible for the contents of your
own bag, so it’s not Flagship’s responsibility to make up your pay.
You should have checked your bag before you let me check it.” He
says, like a bitch I might add.

“Well, fuck.” I say standing up. “Are we
done?”

“You don’t need to cuss Miss Jones.”

He knows my name... maybe I
am
famous.
“Sorry. Wasn’t really meant at you, just fuck in general, at the
situation, at the fucking loss of pay.”

Short Manager does not find me amusing. He
stands up. “Let’s go. I’ll need your elevator key”