As much as I looked forward to a carless existence in Manhattan, not all mass transportation systems were created equal. The thought of taking Pineville public transit to and from work every day was downright depressing. A ten-minute drive by car took nearly an hour by bus, so hitching rides with my parents was still by far the best option.
“When does Troy’s seasonal assistant management training come to an end?” asked Kathy.
“Soon?”
“You should attend those meetings with him,” said Frank. “Show them you’re seasonal assistant management material.”
“Uh-huh,” I said.
The air was already swampy, and I was pretty much soaked by the time I walked all the way around the parking lot and reached the automatic doors to J. C. Penney. The thermostat was set to Christmas, and I was not at all prepared for the drastic drop in temperature. I shivered in the arctic air conditioning—more of a full-blown seizure than an ordinary chill—and vowed to bring a sweatshirt from then on.
One advantage to working at Bellarosa? It was the last place my ex or Helen or anyone would think to find me. Unfortunately, the food court was the congested heart of the mall, located in Concourse D in the dead center of the map. The most direct path to Bellarosa—a straight line from Sears via Concourse C—was not an option because I couldn’t risk running into Troy on his way to America’s Best Cookie. Instead, I went in through J. C. Penney, took an escalator, traversed Upper Level Concourse B, and came back down in an elevator that deposited me right in front of Unz Unz Alley. And I wasn’t above ducking behind mannequins and peeking around potted plants whenever I thought I caught a glimpse of the kind of overbleached hair that was, unfortunately, all too popular among Jersey girls in the summer of 1991. I was so focused on avoiding Helen (mostly) and Troy (somewhat) that I was blind to anyone who didn’t fit their specific descriptions. So that’s why I didn’t realize I was being followed until it was already too late.
“Hey, you!” Sam Goody ran up alongside me.
I was annoyed by his face and the interruption. In that order.
“You’re the opposite of loitering this morning,” he said breathlessly. “I could hardly keep up.”
“So?”
It was 10:05. I literally did not have time for this. I wasn’t psyched to start my new job, but at the very least I could avoid unfavorable comparisons to No-Good Crystal by being punctual.
Sam Goody swept a hand through his impressive upswell of hair. Then he gestured toward the words VIVA HATE written across my chest. It was the title of my favorite Morrissey album.
“I guess this proves you’re a fan after all.” He raised an eyebrow like he expected me to be grateful for his approval. Where did he get off thinking his opinion mattered to me at all?
“I didn’t wear this shirt to prove anything to you.”
Then I walked away without waiting for a response. This bizarre and unwanted interaction was my first hint that 900,000 square feet was not nearly big enough to avoid all the people I never wanted to see again.
Gia was too preoccupied with a busty silver-haired lady to notice my arrival at Bellarosa Boutique. The client posed on a raised platform in front of the three-way mirror, lifting a red-and-black ball gown up to mid-thigh like a can-can dancer.
“Can you make it short in the front but keep it long in the back?”
The mullet of dresses, I thought. Classy.
“You ask, we alter,” Gia cooed. “Your mother-of-the-bride look will be as chic and unique as you are!”
Drea emerged from behind a rack of zip-front corsets to share her opinion.
“YAAAAWWWWNNNNNNNNNNNNAAAAHHHH.”
And it wasn’t a subtle yawn either, but the kind that required full over-the-head arm extension and at least three distinct stages of throaty vocalization.
Today’s ensemble was even more incredible than yesterday’s catsuit. And by incredible, I mean the true definition of the word, as in impossible to believe. It was literally impossible for me to believe that someone my age could get away with wearing a rhinestone-encrusted military jacket and matching micro mini. And yet, there Drea was, wearing the hell out of it.
“Cassie! You made it!” Gia trotted over to give me a hug. “Drea will show you the books while I assist Francine here.”
“Ma! How about I handle Francine while you show her the books?”
Gia gritted her teeth while Francine watched with gossipy interest.
“How about you do what I say for a change?” She turned to Francine. “Does your daughter give you such headaches?”
“A more ungrateful bride the world has never seen.” Francine hoisted her cleavage. “After all the dough her father and I are sinking into this wedding…”
Drea cracked her gum and turned toward the back office. I took this as my cue to follow.
“I didn’t mention this yesterday, but I’m already familiar with accounting software because I was the treasurer for…”
Drea didn’t even pretend to listen to my credentials. She dug elbow-deep into the bottom drawer of a file cabinet and scooped out a jumbled armload of loose-leaf paper, unopened envelopes, crumpled receipts, assorted candy bar wrappers, and who knew what else.
“The books,” Drea said dryly. “Good luck.”
She brusquely dropped the mess on the desk and was out the door before I could let out a gasp of dissent. No-Good Crystal was even worse at her job than I’d imagined. How could I turn this disorganized pile into data I could put into a spreadsheet? I’d have to tell Gia that this was a formidable task for a professional accounting firm, let alone a recent high school graduate with minimal bookkeeping experience.
And yet, as I sifted through the pile, I thought about my Odyssey of the Mind training. Whenever we were perplexed by a particular problem, we were encouraged to take a small, doable step instead of just sitting around and thinking so hard. Ironically, by doing and not thinking, our brains got all stimulated and came up with ideas we wouldn’t have thought of otherwise. At least that was the theory.
In this case, I started by isolating and disposing of all the candy bar wrappers. Evidently, Crystal favored Snickers bars (twenty-eight wrappers) but also enjoyed Baby Ruths (thirteen) and PayDays (six) now and then. Tossing them out made a significant dent in the pile.
Next, I moved on to separating bills and receipts from the loose-leaf papers covered in Crystal’s scrawls. At a glance, all those numbers and letters and symbols looked like gibberish. Making sense of it was the most daunting task and the one I’d tackle last. It was much easier to track the invoices because they were usually printed on yellow or pink attention-getting paper and, okay, I won’t bore you with any more of my methods except to say that I was pretty proud of myself for sorting it all out.
The process took hours, an entire shift in fact, only interrupted by a brief lunch break spent eating a cheese-and-tomato sandwich out of a paper bag in Bellarosa’s back office. But I didn’t mind the work. I hadn’t exercised my brain in six weeks, and it felt really good to get it working again. I was sort of disappointed when Gia and Drea came in around six to tell me my shift was over.
“Oh really? I hoped I’d have time to play around with the Mac.” I pointed to the beige computer in the corner. “By the way, did you get the memory expansion card?”
“Oh my gawd,” Drea said. “You’re an even bigger nerd than I thought.”
Gia smacked Drea in the back of the head.
“Manners, Drea!” Gia turned to me. “You know how to use this thing?”
“Sure,” I said. “You don’t?”
“Nah,” Gia said. “It was a gift from the manager of Electronics Universe.”
“A gift?” This computer must have been worth more than two thousand dollars.
“Drea dated him for a while,” Gia explained.
Drea picked at nonexistent lint on her sleeve. “He was trying to impress me.”
“Did it work?” I ask.
Gia arched an eyebrow.
“Nothing impresses my daughter.”
Drea inspected her cuticles.
“Ma made me keep the thing ’cause she thinks it makes the office look more professional.”
“You’d be surprised how many people don’t take me seriously,” Gia said.
I nearly laughed out loud before realizing they weren’t kidding.
“I guess I can start a spreadsheet tomorrow.” I shrugged.
“You really made sense of this mess?” Drea asked incredulously.
“Crystal created her own code.”
“A code?” Drea pulled a face. “It was a bunch of scribbles.”
“I thought so at first,” I said. “But then I realized Crystal’s code had an internal logic to it. Like, once I figured out that the smiley faces meant receivables and the upside-down crosses meant payables, it all kind of came together.”
“Why would she make up this wacky code?” Gia asked.
“Cocaine,” Drea answered.
“To make herself invaluable to the organization,” I replied. “If she was the only one who understood the finances, she thought she could never be fired.”
“It also helped make it easier for her to steal from us,” Gia remarked.
“Exactly,” I replied.
“And you can put all of Crystal’s mess into the computer?” She rapped the monitor with the gold rings on her knuckles.
“Sure, that’s what it’s made for,” I said. “Once I enter all the data, you’ll be able to use the same template from month to month.”
“Fate!” Gia threw her arms around me. “I knew I was right to hire you!”
Then she hustled out of the office to greet an incoming customer. I expected Drea to follow her mother, but she stayed behind instead.
“Your team did good at that Nerd Olympics, huh?”
“You mean Odyssey of the Mind?”
Drea crossed her eyes as a way of saying, Yes, nerd.
I cleared my throat and kept going.
“Well, this year’s team should have qualified for state but…”
“Ahhh!” She waved her hands wildly. “I don’t care!”
Drea’s reaction wasn’t unusual. Very few people were interested in a detailed rundown of the interscholastic power rankings for Odyssey of the Mind.
“I just need to know if you’re really good at solving riddles and stuff.”
“I guess so.”
She broke out into a stunning smile, the kind that could turn any crush into a conquest. Drea Bellarosa was a Worthy Orthodontics and Pediatric Dentistry success story if there ever was one.
“You and I should spend some quality time together,” she said. “Like, after I’m finished up here.”
“Um, okay,” I said. “I think I’m available.”
“I know you are,” she said.
If she weren’t right, I might have been offended.