At nine o’clock, Mary Bliss gave in and took her fifteen-minute break. Her stomach was growling and the muscles in her calves screamed in pain.
She limped into the employee lounge and sank down into a Bargain Bonanza blue plastic chair. The first thing she did was kick off her pumps. The second thing she did was put her head down on the table and close her eyes.
“Tough night, huh?”
Mary Bliss lifted her head. Queen Esther was sitting across the table from her, eating cottage cheese from a Tupperware dish.
“My calves feel like they’re on fire,” Mary Bliss said, reaching down and massaging first one, then the other.
“Told you to get you some sneakers,” Queen Esther said. She held up a cherry tomato. “Want one?”
Mary Bliss hesitated, then stuffed the tomato in her mouth. “Thanks. I’m starved. I didn’t realize I’d be working so late, and I didn’t pack any lunch.”
“You giving away samples,” Queen Esther said. “Whyn’t you just help yourself to some of that?”
“I’m not that hungry,” Mary Bliss said. “I’m demonstrating Mrs. Korey’s Kod Kakes. They’re absolutely disgusting.”
Queen Esther wrinkled her nose. “I was wonderin’ what that smell was. Girl, you might wanna get those clothes you got on dry-cleaned after today.”
Mary Bliss sighed. Another expense.
Her new friend shoved her brown bag across the table toward her. “There’s a homemade brownie in there, and an apple. Help yourself. My mama packs me enough dinner for an army.”
“Thank you so much,” Mary Bliss said, diving into the brownie.
“Other than being starved and your feet hurtin’, how you doin’ out there?” Queen Esther asked.
Mary Bliss rolled her eyes. “I can’t even give those fish sticks away. I’ve only gone through one carton, this whole night, and that was because this weird Pakistani woman kept coming back for seconds and thirds. I finally gave her the whole box, plus about a dozen coupons.”
“Lady got on this puke-colored wraparound dress, talk with an accent?” Queen Esther asked.
“Yes,” Mary Bliss said, surprised. “Is she a regular customer?”
“Wouldn’t call her a customer,” Queen Esther said. “Far as I know, she don’t never buy nothin’. Just walks around the store with an empty cart, eating samples. Calls herself Fatima. You ever hear a name like that?”
“I’ve heard it, but I never met anybody named that,” Mary Bliss said. She’d never met anybody named Queen Esther before either, but she kept that to herself.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do about these damned Kod Kakes,” Mary Bliss said, rubbing her toes now. “The product demonstration host I took over for, this guy named Art? Right before he left, he said something about my pay being tied to the number of samples and coupons I hand out. The man who hired me never said anything about that.”
“What did he say?”
“Just that I was hired,” Mary Bliss said. “The classified ad said twenty-two dollars an hour. I just assumed that was what the pay would be.”
“Twenty-two dollars an hour? For real? I bet the manager of this whole store don’t make twenty-two dollars an hour.”
“Art said he’s the company’s top producer, and he only makes eight dollars an hour,” Mary Bliss said. “I guess the ad was just a come-on. I can’t believe I was stupid enough to fall for it.”
“Sounds too good to be true, it usually is,” Queen Esther said. She scraped up the last of the cottage cheese from the plastic tub with a plastic fork, then snapped the top back on the tub. “Guess I better get back on the floor. I need to sell me three more of them Liz Claiborne watches so I meet my quota for the night.”
“Can I ask you something?” Mary Bliss said. “How do you do that? How do you make people want to buy something?”
Queen Esther tapped her head with her forefinger. “It’s up here. I make up my mind how good those watches are, and every person comes within shoutin’ distance, I tell ’em what a great buy they are. I make it a game, see? Like tonight, I told myself, Esther, girl, you ain’t going to dinner ’til you’ve sold six watches. It took me ’til nine o’clock, but I did it.”
Mary Bliss sighed. “At least your watches look good. And they don’t stink to high heavens.”
“That’s true,” Queen Esther said. “Course, unless you got motivation, you ain’t got nothin’. You motivated, Mary Bliss McGowan?”
“I’m motivated,” Mary Bliss said grimly. “I’m flat broke, my husband’s gone, and I’m about to lose my house if I don’t make some money in a hurry.”
Queen Esther whistled softly. “Girl, you in a mess. Sound like you need to make them Kod Kakes disappear.”
“How?” Mary Bliss wailed. “People won’t even come down my aisle.”
“You gotta get rid of ’em, right? Queen Esther gave her a broad wink. “Think about it. Use your head, girlfriend.”
At nine-fifteen, Mary Bliss trudged back to station 4. The frozen food department was deserted, except for an elderly man who was studying the frozen pizza case.
Mary Bliss popped a Kod Kake into the toaster oven and started rehearsing her sales pitch.
When the toaster oven dinged, she took the Kod Kake and arranged it on one of the little paper cupcake liners. She carefully spooned Mrs. Korey’s Kocktail Sauce all over the fish stick. At least the spicy red sauce disguised the smell somewhat. But it needed something else. Something to make it look palatable.
Mary Bliss had an idea. She darted over to the produce aisle and grabbed a handful of parsley. Then she snatched a lemon from the citrus fruit display. Back at station 4, she sliced the lemon into thin wedges, one of which she slid under the fish stick. She pinched off a sprig of parsley and put it on top of the pool of Kocktail Sauce.
“Oh, sir,” she called out. The elderly man turned around and looked at her quizzically.
“Can I interest you in sampling an exciting new appetizer?” Mary Bliss made her voice sing. “This is our very newest product. And I’d love for you to try some.”
The man wheeled his cart forward a little. He wore a sweat-stained yachting cap on the back of his head, and little wire-framed eyeglasses perched on the end of his weather-beaten nose. “Is it free?”
“Oh, yes, sir,” Mary Bliss called. Come closer, she thought fiercely. Come see what I’ve fixed for you, old man.
He did her bidding, wheeling the cart right up to station 4.
“What is that, fish?” he asked.
Mary Bliss was thankful for the lemon wedges. The sharp smell covered up the fishy odor of the Kod Kakes.
She offered the doctored-up fish stick with a flourish. “It’s called Mrs. Korey’s Kod Kakes. Fresh-caught all-natural seafood from the bracing blue waters of New England. I just know you’re going to love them.”
In actuality Mary Bliss had no idea where Mrs. Korey got the kod for her Kakes. It could have been from a roadside ditch in Lower Alabama or a nuclear waste dump in Arkansas for all she knew. But what she did know was that she had to make this man like Mrs. Korey’s fine fish sticks.
The old man took one. He nibbled on the edge, smacked his lips a little. “Not bad.” He chewed vigorously. Mary Bliss turned her head so that she wouldn’t have to watch. She should have felt guilty, she knew, but she didn’t.
“Wouldn’t you like to try another?” she said, as he polished off the first one.
“Don’t mind if I do,” the old man said happily.
Mary Bliss placed two fish sticks in the toaster oven. “It’ll just be a couple minutes,” she told him. “They’re best when they’re hot and crispy right out of the oven.”
The toaster dinged, and Mary Bliss prepared the fish sticks, slathering them with sauce, two lemon slices, and a small forest of parsley.
The old man chewed noisily, and Mary Bliss busied herself cleaning up her station. “Yummy, aren’t they?” she asked.
He nodded, working his jaws.
“And we’ve got an amazing manufacturer’s coupon we’re offering tonight,” Mary Bliss continued. “With the coupon, you’re going to get a carton of eighteen Kod Kakes for a dollar ninety-nine.”
He smiled widely, and small crumbs of breading spilled down his already soiled white sport shirt.
Mary Bliss felt herself on a roll. “I see you were doing some comparison shopping on those pizzas,” she said boldly. “But, you know, these Kod Kakes are a much better bargain. Do you live alone?” she asked the man.
“With my son,” he said, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin.
“Mrs. Korey’s Kod Kakes are individually wrapped for freshness,” Mary Bliss said. “So you can cook just one, or three or four, if you and your son are dining together.”
“That’s true,” the old man said. He picked up one of the cartons of Kod Kakes and squinted, looking at the fine print on the back of the box.
“And another thing,” Mary Bliss said. She was determined to make this her first sale of the night. “It’s a proven fact that cold-water fish like our Kod Kakes are full of natural fish oils, which is proven to reduce the risk of plaque and gingivitis and arteriosclerosis.”
“That so?” he looked up at her, clearly impressed with her medical know-how.
“Oh yes,” she said airily. She opened her cooler and let her hand rest delicately on the lid. “Nutritionally speaking, as well as economically, our product is clearly the best bargain in frozen food products. Only a dollar ninety-nine for eighteen delicious Kod Kakes. Of course, this is a grand-opening special, and they’re going fast, as fast as, well, Kod Kakes.” She giggled unashamedly.
“How many boxes would you like?” she asked, giving him a flirtatious little wink.
“Four oughta do it,” he said, blushing a little.
Mary Bliss handed him a wad of coupons. “Oh, take six,” she insisted. “It’s such a wonderful buy, I’d hate for you to miss out on it. And I just know your son is going to love them too.”
When he’d wheeled away, with his cart stacked high with Mrs. Korey’s Kakes, Mary Bliss pumped her fist in the air and did a little victory dance.
She’d made her first sale. Suddenly, her calves didn’t hurt and her stomach wasn’t churning. She cleaned up her station, shoved the rest of the Kod Kakes in the big walk-in freezer, and limped over to the time clock. It was five minutes to ten. She’d earned her first paycheck. Not the twenty-two an hour she’d been promised, it was true, but it was a start.
Tomorrow, she promised herself, she’d have it out with that peckerwood Jeff Robertson. And she’d definitely ditch the shoes.