Bentley Little - The Store

"Give them a little time," Ginny suggested. "Don't pounce on them the second they walk through the door."

"They've had all afternoon. We've put this off long enough. It's family discussion time."

Shannon went straight into her bedroom after her bath, closing the door behind her. They waited, gave her enough time to get dressed, but she did not come out again, and together they knocked on her door, then opened it.

She was in bed, lights off, pretending to sleep.

Bill flipped on the light switch.

Shannon pulled the covers over her head. "I'm tired," she complained.

"I don't care," Bill told her. "You're going to talk about this."

Sighing, she pulled the covers down, sat up. "What?"

"What do you mean, 'What?' You said you wanted to get a job this summer, and I said fine. The only stipulation was that you could not get a job at The Store. So what did you do? You got a job at The Store and lied to me about it."

"I didn't lie --"

"You told me that you were working at George's. That's not a lie?"

Shannon was silent.

"Why did you lie?" Ginny prodded.

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"You're not working at The Store anymore," Bill told her.

Shannon did not respond.

"I want you to quit. Tomorrow."

"I can't," she said quietly.

"You're going to."

"No, she's not."

Bill turned around to see Samantha standing in the bedroom doorway, legs spread, hands on hips, wearing only a white see-through negligee. "She's made a commitment. She's responsible for keeping it."

Bill tried not to stare at his daughter. His first instinct was to tell her to put some clothes on, but he didn't want her to know that he'd noticed.

Her breasts and pubic hair were clearly visible through the sheer material, and he felt embarrassed. He was not aroused, but he could not help seeing her in a sexual light, and he did not know what to say or how to react.

Ginny was not so circumspect. "What the hell are you wearing?" she demanded.

"A nightie," Sam said defensively.

"You put on some pajamas. I will not have you wearing something like that in my house."

"I bought it with my own money."

"At The Store?" Bill said.

"I got a fifteen percent employee discount."

"You wear pajamas," Ginny told her. "Or you put on a bathrobe."

Bill turned back toward Shannon. "You're quitting."

"Mr. Lamb won't let her quit," Sam said.

"Who's Mr. Lamb?"

"The personnel manager," Shannon said.

"He won't let her quit," Sam repeated.

_He won't let her quit_.

Bill felt a small shiver of fear pass through him, but he pushed it away, would not let it gain a foothold.

"I'll talk to this Mr. Lamb," he said. "And I'm going to tell him that neither of you are working for The Store anymore."

He was at The Store when it opened the next morning.

Ginny had wanted to come, but he thought it would probably be better if he went alone and had a man-to-man talk with the personnel manager. After speaking with the girl behind the Customer Service desk, he learned that Mr. Lamb was not in yet, so he wandered around the store for a while while he waited.

He'd been avoiding The Store lately. Not staying away from it entirely, but only going when there was something specific he needed to buy. The aimless browsing and impulse shopping of the first few weeks was long gone, and now he came here only when necessary.

It had been over a month since he'd just wandered through The Store, and as he walked down the crowded aisles of the toy department, he saw products that made his blood run cold. Klicker-Klackers. Sooper Stuff. Balloon Makeums. Toys that were supposed to have been taken off the shelves decades ago. Toys that had been banned for sale to children in the United States.

Dangerous toys.

On a hunch, he hurried quickly through the rest of the store. In Infants, there were no fire-resistant or flame-retardant baby pajamas available. In Hardware, there were no warnings on packages of toxic chemicals. In Pharmacy, there were no medicines with childproof caps. In the Grocery department, all the health food seemed to have been removed from the shelves. There were no fat-free or cholesterol-free items. There was a sale on bacon and lard.

He walked down the row to the left of the soaps and detergents. Weren't the shampoos supposed to be here? He looked at the products on the shelf in front of him: embalming fluid, suture thread.

"May I help you, sir?"

He nearly jumped at the sound of the voice, turning to see a young director smiling mockingly at him.

"Where's the shampoo?" Bill asked.

"Right over here, sir." The smirking kid led him around the corner and down the next aisle, and there were the normal products: shampoo, mousse, conditioner, Grecian Formula.

"Next time, please ask for help," the young man said. "Sometimes it's dangerous if you try to do things on your own."

Dangerous?

He stared at the back of the green uniform as the young man strode away from him. The more he learned about The Store, the less he liked it. He walked back to the Customer Service counter to see if Mr. Lamb was in yet.

He was.

The personnel manager was a slimy, unctuous man who fit the cinematic stereotype of a used-car dealer to a T. Bill hated him on sight. He remained seated as Bill entered his office, smiling insincerely and motioning for Bill to take a seat across the desk from him. "What can I do for you, Mr. Davis?"

"I do not want my daughters working for The Store."

"And your daughters are?"

"Samantha and Shannon Davis."

"Ah, the Davis sisters." Mr. Lamb's smile grew broader in a sly way that Bill did not like.

"My daughters are no longer working for The Store."

Mr. Lamb spread his hands apologetically. "I'd like to help you, Mr.

Davis. I really would. But both of your daughters are excellent employees and we have no cause to let them go. We are prohibited by company policy from terminating employees without justification."

"I'm not _asking_ you to fire them. I'm _telling_ you that they will no longer be working here."

"I'm afraid they will."

"No. They won't."

The personnel manager laughed. "Mr. Davis, this isn't nursery school. You didn't enroll your daughters here, and you cannot withdraw them whenever the whim suits you. Both Samantha and Shannon have an employment contract with The Store, and they are legally bound by the strictures of that contract."

"I'm their father. I know nothing about this so-called contract, and I did not give my consent."

"I understand that, Mr. Davis. But Samantha is eighteen. She is legally an adult. Shannon is not yet a legal adult, but she is protected under the umbrella of The Store from any attempt to infringe on her rights or civil liberties, whether that be from customers, coworkers, or her family."

Bill stood. "This is bullshit."

Mr. Lamb's eyes narrowed, grew hard. "No, Mr. Davis. It is business."

"I want to talk to the manager."

"I'm afraid that authority for all personnel-related matters rests with me."

"I still want to talk to someone above you."

"That won't be possible."

"And why not?"

"Our store manager has been transferred to another location and a replacement has not yet been assigned. Until we get a new manager, I am in charge of the day-to-day operation of this Store."

"Then I want to talk to your district manager."

"Very well." Mr. Lamb opened the top right drawer of his desk and withdrew a card. "This is Mr. Smith's business card. His telephone and fax numbers are listed on there." He paused. "But if you think that you can somehow bully or cajole Mr. Smith into releasing either Samantha or Shannon from their employment contracts, you are sadly mistaken. Like myself, Mr. Smith does not make the rules, he follows them. What I have stated to you is not my own personal decision. It is corporate policy." He smiled disingenuously. "If it was up to me, of course, I would not hesitate to release them from their obligations."