I eventually became the manager of Sneaker Heaven in the Mall. This meant that I would have to be in the store from 8:00 a.m. until 11:00 p.m. seven days a week. My new position also meant that I would be earning a salary. No more eight dollars an hour for this guy. I was suddenly propelled into the big time. I would be making a stratospheric $32,000 a year. Read it and weep, boys. This could actually get me out of my sister’s apartment and into a fifth-floor walk-up studio in the middle of Harlem, if luck was on my side. I wasn’t going to allow myself to dream such thoughts. Right now, I was going to bask in the glory of having an office with a door.
In my former life at Hobart, I had an office with a door. The catch was, the door rarely stayed shut for very long. It seems the more you get paid, the more rights you have to relinquish to your surroundings. I was entrenched in a daily battle at the office. I would close my door the moment I arrived at work. Within minutes, people would throw the door open with careless disregard for my wishes to remain a hermit, asking me question after question.
‘Get out of my office and while you’re at it, shut the door behind you.’ This is what I was thinking most of the time at Hobart. What usually came out was: “I’ll have that on your desk by 3.” God, I was such a pussy. The beauty of Sneaker Heaven was the fact that I was the boss. This was my kingdom. When that door was shut, someone had better knock before they dared to open that door. To ensure my privacy, the door had a lock, and I would enjoy using it.
As I stated, my typical Sneaker Heaven day would begin at 8:00 a.m. I would open the store, let the employees in, then head over to my office where I would shut the door and really begin my day. I had stocked the 64 square-foot box that served as an office with cereals, ranging from granola to Froot Loops, that I would eat dry (I had not yet managed to get a refrigerator in there) for breakfast and lunch. I wanted to use my time writing. The cereal enabled me to stay self-contained in my office. There wasn’t going to be any of this, “Hold on, I’ll be right back guys because I’m grabbing something at the food court” shit. I wasn’t about to come out of my office.
After my morning cereal, I would start working on my short story. That was the beauty of the door. I could write without distraction. Since I had only started the story a few weeks ago, I was surprised that I was making excellent progress. I attributed the progress to the 8-10 hours that I had every day to work on it. There were times during the day where I actually had to do some work. I’d check out the invoices, refresh the stock, and make sure everything was running smoothly. I also would occasionally stroll out into the store itself and check on the employees. Too bad they all couldn’t be like Peaches. She was a good worker. Sixteen year-old Emma, on the other hand, appeared to have a limited future at Sneaker Heaven. She was OK with the customers, but the finer aspects of the job had her confused. I mean, how hard is it to find sneakers in the back? You look for the brand and then the size. Trust me, it isn’t brain surgery. Thank God, she only worked after school from 4-9.
My appearance had certainly deteriorated to a new low - even for me. I had selected one referee shirt and one pair of khaki pants that served as my daily uniform. One of the new manager perks was I didn’t have to wear my old black pants. I had long since stopped washing my clothes. I’m sure that I reeked of body odor, but I was too self-absorbed and focused on writing at the time to realize it.
It was about five in the afternoon - and about two months later - when I first received a knock on my door. It was Kim, the other full-time employee.
“Uh, Mr. Michaels,” She mumbled through the closed door. “There’s something going on out here that you should probably check out.”
One of the things that I have neglected to tell you so far was that I occasionally had a drink at the office. Nothing crazy. Just a scotch or two. I deserved to relax after a long day of writing. Writing was hard work! Hell, Jim smoked pot back here. What’s the big deal if I had a drink? Well, I was in the middle of one of those drinks when Kim rudely interrupted me. I put the scotch down and headed out to the floor.
There were two customers in the store. One at the register, and one browsing the clothing racks toward the front of the store. Peaches was at the register.
“Ma’am, I cannot give you a refund for these sneakers. Look at the sole. They obviously have been worn outside. There are pebbles stuck in the treads,” Peaches explained.
“I didn’t wear them. I tried them on in my house and they were uncomfortable. Now I want a refund,” the lady countered.
“You have pebbles in your house? I doubt it. Anyway, ma’am, I already explained to you, I cannot give you a –” Peaches got cut off at the pass.
“I want to speak to your manager,” the woman demanded.
“Well, you’re in luck. He’s right over there,” Peaches pointed to me standing by the new running shoes display.
As the woman approached me, I almost fell backwards in utter disbelief. There stood Sandy McBride!
“Well, I don’t believe it. Is that you, David?” Sandy asked. Apparently, she was excited to see me.
“Yup,” I was mortified, not to mention, deeply embarrassed.
“What in God’s name are you doing here? Are you the Manager? I thought you were some kind of lawyer?”
Peaches was listening, and so was the one, other customer, pretending to be browsing the cross trainers.
“Yup. I’m the manager.”
Fuck!
“Aren’t you just the cutest in that referee shirt,” Sandy complimented me. “Do you want to go into the back over there and –” Sandy said whispering. I don’t think Peaches heard that, but the nosey customer might have. She was inching closer by the second.
“Miss, what seems to be the problem?” I said loudly, so the whole store could hear. I was also trying to cut Sandy off before she got totally out of control.
“I’m a ‘miss’ now? Very nice. Look at you, Mr. Manager.” Man, she was seductive. “I love a man with power,” She brushed against my arm.
Peaches just looked at me and smiled. She probably thought this woman was just some nut case. Nosey customer was now strolling back towards the front of the store, pretending to look at clothes.
Sandy changed her tone and addressed her sneaker issue, “Well, I wanted to return these sneakers since they didn’t fit very well - and your extremely rude salesperson here,” she pointed to Peaches, “ - told me that that I couldn’t because the soles have pebbles in them. And that, of course, would be impossible, since I never wore these sneakers out of my apartment. I guess we both just need a man to decide.”
Peaches almost flew into a rage, “I don’t need a man to – ”. I guess she was listening.
Sandy and I started walking to the register.
“Peaches, I’ll handle this. Go ahead and take care of the other customer,” I said, even though Kim had already asked the nosey customer if she needed help. I picked up the sneaker and examined it. “Miss, it appears that these shoes were worn outside the store. But I’m going to make you a deal. I’ll take your word for it, and I’ll be happy to credit you a full refund.”
Peaches was listening from across the floor. I heard her mumble, “What the fuck?”
I continued, “I’m going to offer you a full refund, but on the condition that you do not shop at any Sneaker Heaven for the next six months,” It was good to be the king.
“That would be quite a shame since I know at least one thing I would like to pick up at Sneaker Heaven very soon,” Sandy said, slyly.
I ignored Sandy’s comment and continued, “Six months. No sneaker purchases. Are we clear?”
“Absolutely. So that means I can still get my hands on cute boys in referee shirts?” She winked at me.
Kim was busy moving closer and closer to Sandy and me. She was definitely eavesdropping.
“Thank you for understanding. Now, if you’ll please fill out this return slip, we can credit you for the sneakers.” I handed Sandy the slip.
Sandy leaned over the slip and whispered,. “I’ve missed you. I think about that night in the bathroom all the time. I even tried to get your number, but since my husband is Jon’s boss it was a bit tricky. I couldn’t exactly say ‘Hey Hon, when you’re at work today can you ask Jon who that cute guy was that I fucked at his party. Thanks’.”
“Sandy, I’m at work. These people are listening. This isn’t the place to talk about it.”
“But, you did fuck me. And very well, I might add. I want to sleep with you again. Can we just hop in the back and –” she continued to whisper, ignoring my last comment.
“You’re married. That night was a big mistake. I think we both had way too much to drink. I should have never even done so much as kiss you. And now you’re here, flirting with me again. This is just wrong.” I whispered back.
Peaches and Kim were onto me. The one other customer was probably onto me, too. She has been looking at the same pair of yoga pants for the last ten minutes.
“Oh, stop being such a goody two shoes. Stop worrying about him. We’re about to get a divorce anyway. Why don’t you just meet me for a drink? That’s all I’m asking. Judging by your breath, I assume you’re not opposed to that.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you for a drink.” I needed to get her out of here.
“Come to my apartment at 7 o’clock tomorrow.”
“I can’t, I’m working here.”
“What time do you get off?”
“Eleven.”
“Then make it 11:30. Jim is out of town, so there is nothing to worry about. My address is on the return slip. See you tomorrow, oh,” she raised her voice, “thank you, sir, for your help.” And with that, Sandy turned and waved goodbye.
Peaches walked over to me, “Drama. White-boy drama.” She shook her head.
Of all the shoe stores in the entire world, why’d she have to walk into mine?