Page 39 of Kiss Collector
Miss Sanchez dances at the stove. She’s short. Monica must get her long legs from her dad.
We’re just sitting down to eat when my cell rings with an unknown local number. I almost don’t answer, but then I wonder if it’s my dad at his new house. So I get up and move to the hall.
“Hello?”
“Yes, hello. This is Mrs. McOllie from Clara’s Bowtique. May I speak with Zae Monroe?”
The lady from the mall! “This is her... er... she.”
“I’m calling to see if you’re able to start this morning?”
My heart splutters. “This morning?” I look at the clock on the wall. It’s seven now. “What time?”
“Nine o’clock. We’ll first discuss your pay and hours. If you accept the offer, we’ll have an hour before opening to show you the register and have you fill out the financial forms.”
Wow! Excitement swirls in my head. “So... I’m hired?”
“On a trial basis, yes.”
“Thank you! Yes, I can be there at nine.” She can probably hear me smiling through the phone.
“Very well. Please be prompt. I will see you soon.”
She hangs up and I squeal when I get back in the kitchen. I’m bombarded with questions and commands to finish my breakfast before I leave, so I do, then I rush off, smiling when I get back to the apartment to shower and get ready. Zeb is still sleeping when I leave, so I write a note to him and Mom and close the door quietly.
The register is easy to work, and I love the bleep of the little scanner. Actually, I love everything about the job. I help Mrs. McOllie open shipments of boxes and put the new items on shelves and hooks.
“I keep a very close inventory and itemization of my stock,” she says sternly. “If something is stolen I will know.”
I pause and look at her, offended. “I wouldn’t steal.”
She looks right back at me, chin lifted. “The employee you’re replacing allowed theirfriendsto shoplift.” Mrs. McOllie glances up at the video camera in the corner, and I nod in understanding.
“That won’t happen,” I say, trying to shake off the feeling of hurt. This lady’s been burned before, so I know I shouldn’t take it personally.
“Good. Because there will be shifts when you are alone, and you will be trusted with closing the store and counting the money. It requires maturity, honesty, and responsibility.”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say, imagining being here all by myself and feeling a swell of pride.
She goes back to stocking, so I do the same. When a customer comes in, she shoos me toward the register, and I jump to my feet, smiling brightly at the woman with a toddler.
“Welcome to Clara’s,” I say too loudly. “Let me know if you need any help.” The woman nods and starts to browse. I keep a stealthy eye on her, without being a creeper. When she’s ready to check out, my hands are shaking, and I nearly forget every single thing I just learned, but I work it out.
Mrs. McOllie tries to force me out for lunch, but I tell her I’m not hungry. Truth be told, I don’t have any cash to buy food. My stomach keeps clenching around its emptiness, but I’ll survive until I get home.
A group of guys meanders by the store, and I make eye contact with one—Flynn Rogers. I wave, and he points to his chest in question, looking behind him. I laugh and nod. He says something to the guys and comes in. I notice his lightly freckled cheeks get a little color as he approaches. He’s prettytall. I guess I’ve never taken full notice of him before.
“Hey!” I say. “I heard you practicing last night.”
“Oh.” He scratches the back of his neck, smiling nervously. “That was you at the window?”
“Me and my nosy friends, yeah. Good luck at the auditions.”
“Thanks.”
Mrs. McOllie clears her throat and approaches. Oh, crap.
“See you around,” I say quickly. He takes my hint and leaves. Mrs. McOllie gives his retreating back a disapproving glance before going back to whatever she was doing. Man, she’s tough.
