Bentley Little - The Store

He shook his head. "No. What?"

"The Store bought it."

He stopped walking, turned to face the store owner. "Shit."

"Yep. They kept it quiet, but I guess the deal was finalized last week.

The station switched over this morning." He smiled mirthlessly. "They even changed their call letters. The station is now called K-STOR."

"Why?"

Doane shrugged. "I guess they want to control what we hear as well as what we buy." He walked behind the counter, turned on his receiver, and the sounds of an obnoxious rap group blared through the speakers. "From what I can tell, they're only playing music they have in stock. You know that old saying, 'People don't know what they like, they like what they know'? Well, that's especially true in music. That's why there were all those payoff scandals years ago. It's a fact of life: if music gets played on the radio, if people hear it often enough, they start liking it." He turned off the receiver. "They'll have no problem moving their stock."

"But why did Ward and Robert sell? The station had to be making money."

"Rumor is, The Store made them an offer they couldn't refuse."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Doane shrugged.

"You mean they were offered big bucks? Or they were threatened?"

"Maybe both." He held up a finger before Bill could respond. "I'm only repeating what I heard. I don't know any more than that."

Bill did not even feel like arguing. He should feel like ranting and raving. But he didn't. He felt drained, tried. He recalled his dream about the asphalt machine. That's what The Store seemed like to him: an unstoppable force hell-bent on bulldozing its way over the livelihoods and lifestyles of the town.

"As you heard, they've switched formats already. They're playing top forty. Period. No country."

"No country?"

"Not anymore."

"People won't stand for that in this town."

"They'll have no choice. Besides, people are basically passive. They'll piss and moan for a while, but they'll get used to it. They'll adjust. It'll be more convenient for them to listen to the music they're being offered than to write a letter or make a phone call or do something to change it. It's human nature."

He was right, Bill knew. It was depressing but true. Human beings' capacity to adjust to almost anything was supposed to be one of their greatest virtues, but it was also one of their greatest weaknesses. It rendered them compliant, allowed them to be exploited.

Doane smiled weakly. "Promise me something. If you ever win the lottery, if you win, like, thirty million dollars in the Powerball or something, buy the station back and put on some decent music."

Bill forced himself to smile. "It's a deal."

There was nothing new in the store, and nothing that he really wanted or needed, but he bought a few CD versions of albums that he already had on vinyl.

He'd probably spent more in Doane's store in the past three months than he had in the entire previous year, but Ginny seemed to understand why, and he didn't think she'd give him a hard time about today's purchases.

It was out of his way, but he drove past The Store on his trip home. In contrast to the deserted downtown streets, The Store's parking lot was crowded.

Even though it was a workday.

Even though it was the middle of the afternoon.

He drove by without slowing, glancing out the passenger window. All trace of the original meadow was gone. The contours and topography of the clearing had been changed completely, and the location now looked as though The Store had always been there.

He turned right down the road that led through Creekside Acres and drove down the dirt road toward home.

Where he spent the rest of the afternoon working on the documentation for The Store's accounting package.

2

Summer.

Shannon awoke late, ate a leisurely breakfast, and spent the rest of the morning lying on her bed, staring into space and listening to the radio. She hated summer, although she didn't know when that had started, when her feelings had flip-flopped. She used to love the season. As a child, there'd been nothing better than three months with no school, and the long days had been filled with limitless possibilities. She'd awakened early each morning, gone to bed late each night, and spent the sunny hours in between playing with her friends.

But she didn't play anymore, and now the days stretched endlessly before her, a massive block of time in which she had nothing to do.

It wouldn't have been so boring if her friends had been around, but this summer they all either had jobs or had gone on vacation with their relatives.

Even Diane was working, spending the days behind the cash register at her father's gas station.

It would have been different if she'd had a boyfriend. Then she would've welcomed the freedom. She wouldn't even have minded the absence of her friends.

She would have had plenty to do with her time.

Jake.

She still missed him. He'd been a jerk sometimes -- a lot of the time but she missed having someone to talk with, to walk with, to snuggle with, to just be with.

It was still hard to get used to the fact that someone who had meant everything to her, who'd claimed to love her, with whom she had shared intimate secrets, embarrassing fears, now didn't care if she lived or died. It was a hard thing to reconcile, a big adjustment to make, and she thought that this was what it must feel like when someone you love dies. The emotional withdrawal was the same.

She breathed deeply and with difficulty, stared out the window of her bedroom. It was one of those still summer days that were far too common in Arizona. Blue sky, no clouds. Heavy air: hot, no breeze. It might have been bearable if they had air conditioning, but they didn't, and the fan she'd set up on her dresser only created a weak warm current that died halfway across the room. She thought of Sam, working in The Store. Air-conditioning. People. Music.

Noise. Life. It suddenly sounded good to her and she decided at that moment that instead of wasting her summer vegging out and watching soap operas and television talk shows she'd get a job herself. There was nothing she really wanted to buy, no specific reason she needed to earn money, but she could take what she made this summer, put it in the bank, and get a head start on saving for her own college education.

Excited and newly energized, she bounded out of bed and hurried down the hall to her dad's office. The door was closed, but she opened it without knocking. "Daddy?"

He looked up from his computer. "What is it, daughter dearest?"

"Stop being a buffoon."

"That's why you invaded my privacy? To insult me?"

"No. I want to get a job."

The expression on his face shifted, hardened. "Where?"

"I was thinking of applying at The Store."

"I don't want you working there," he said grimly.

"Why? Everyone else does. Sam does."

"Sam's older." He paused. "Besides, I don't like her working there, either."

"Fine. I'll apply somewhere else, then. Although, just in case you haven't noticed, business is not exactly booming in Juniper."

"Why do you want to get a job anyway? It's summer. Enjoy it. You'll be working for the rest of your life. You might as well enjoy your summers while you're still a kid."

"Earth to Dad. I'm seventeen. I'm not a kid anymore."

He smiled sweetly. "You'll always be my little girl."

"Buffoon alert."

"You still haven't answered my question. Why do you want to get a job?"

"I'm bored. All my friends are either working or gone. There's nothing to do." "There's always something to do --"

"I don't want an inspirational speech. I just want to find a job."

"Go ahead," he said. "With my blessing." He met her eyes. "Anywhere but The Store."