curiously.
“You got furniture and stuff?”
Cassidy looked up and edged the glasses up her nose with her forefinger. “No. But I saw an ad in the paper that was here yesterday that someone was selling a couch and a chair. I called and can go look at it tomorrow. I’m off at one o’clock.”
“You ride the bus. How you gonna buy furniture from someone and get it to your place?”
The entry bell chimed and Cassidy stood up. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
• • •
Domestics. Clay hated responding to a domestic disturbance call. A lot of them hit too close to home. The shouting. The fighting. The fear that it would escalate to something so much worse. It was bad for the cop responding to the call and bad for the poor schmucks fighting. He’d had a year of that in his own home. One long marital year of picking and bickering and that final slap.
Only one hour left in his shift when this call came over the radio. His luck. He mentally reviewed his anger management training. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.”
Clay strived for peace of mind, rarely losing his temper any more. He had pretty well mastered the respond-instead-of-react technique. When he felt his temper rise, he consciously opened his hand and splayed his fingers. The exact opposite of making a fist. It served to keep him on balance. But it had taken a hard year of marriage to Lauren to get him where he was today. And that slap.
He stopped the patrol car in front of the address dispatch had given. His police sergeant stood on the front porch with a heavyset balding man wearing a Cleveland Browns sweatshirt. A can of beer lay on the top porch step, and the man pointed toward the front door, showed the sergeant a red spot on his head, then motioned toward the can.
Getting out of the car, Clay chuckled. Beer this early? It served him right.
• • •
Day three on the job and the assistant manager, Rosie, was on the schedule with Amber and Cassidy. Rosie made it clear she didn’t like Amber and that she would assume Cassidy’s training. Rosie had the most seniority of all the store employees and she did her job efficiently. But she acted like a jail warden watching Cassidy’s every move.
Unlike Amber, who let Cassidy think through the process so she could learn it, Rosie stepped in and took over, pushing her hands from the keyboard and correcting Cassidy in front of the customers.
She shredded the small bit of confidence Cassidy had in the first twenty minutes of her shift.
Amber smiled and winked reassuringly when Rosie took a phone call and walked into the back office to check a customer’s account. “Don’t let her scare you,” Amber whispered. “You’re doing fine. And you’re outta here in a couple hours. I’m stuck with her all day.”
“She makes me so nervous.”
“Don’t let her. She knows she can’t boss me around because I know this job better than her. So she has to boss you around to feel important.”
She nodded toward the two copy machines at the front of the store.
“When you hear her hang up, go check the paper supply in the drawers. She’s a stickler for that. It will impress her.”
Amber reached under the counter where the pens were stored and grabbed a handful to fill the customer pen cup. “You still gonna go look at furniture this afternoon?”
Cassidy nodded.
“You figure out what to do if you buy it?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, if it’s not giant pieces maybe we can tie it into the back of my trunk or something. If you decide to buy it, I’ll try to help you move it.”
Amber drove a ten-year old faded green Ford Escort with a dented rear bumper, a stone-chipped windshield, and oversized pink fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. It didn’t look like it could make it until tomorrow, let alone serve as a U-haul. And Cassidy couldn’t afford to get friendly with anyone.
“Thanks, Amber, but I
“You got furniture and stuff?”
Cassidy looked up and edged the glasses up her nose with her forefinger. “No. But I saw an ad in the paper that was here yesterday that someone was selling a couch and a chair. I called and can go look at it tomorrow. I’m off at one o’clock.”
“You ride the bus. How you gonna buy furniture from someone and get it to your place?”
The entry bell chimed and Cassidy stood up. “I haven’t figured that part out yet.”
• • •
Domestics. Clay hated responding to a domestic disturbance call. A lot of them hit too close to home. The shouting. The fighting. The fear that it would escalate to something so much worse. It was bad for the cop responding to the call and bad for the poor schmucks fighting. He’d had a year of that in his own home. One long marital year of picking and bickering and that final slap.
Only one hour left in his shift when this call came over the radio. His luck. He mentally reviewed his anger management training. Ralph Waldo Emerson said, “For every minute you remain angry, you give up sixty seconds of peace of mind.”
Clay strived for peace of mind, rarely losing his temper any more. He had pretty well mastered the respond-instead-of-react technique. When he felt his temper rise, he consciously opened his hand and splayed his fingers. The exact opposite of making a fist. It served to keep him on balance. But it had taken a hard year of marriage to Lauren to get him where he was today. And that slap.
He stopped the patrol car in front of the address dispatch had given. His police sergeant stood on the front porch with a heavyset balding man wearing a Cleveland Browns sweatshirt. A can of beer lay on the top porch step, and the man pointed toward the front door, showed the sergeant a red spot on his head, then motioned toward the can.
Getting out of the car, Clay chuckled. Beer this early? It served him right.
• • •
Day three on the job and the assistant manager, Rosie, was on the schedule with Amber and Cassidy. Rosie made it clear she didn’t like Amber and that she would assume Cassidy’s training. Rosie had the most seniority of all the store employees and she did her job efficiently. But she acted like a jail warden watching Cassidy’s every move.
Unlike Amber, who let Cassidy think through the process so she could learn it, Rosie stepped in and took over, pushing her hands from the keyboard and correcting Cassidy in front of the customers.
She shredded the small bit of confidence Cassidy had in the first twenty minutes of her shift.
Amber smiled and winked reassuringly when Rosie took a phone call and walked into the back office to check a customer’s account. “Don’t let her scare you,” Amber whispered. “You’re doing fine. And you’re outta here in a couple hours. I’m stuck with her all day.”
“She makes me so nervous.”
“Don’t let her. She knows she can’t boss me around because I know this job better than her. So she has to boss you around to feel important.”
She nodded toward the two copy machines at the front of the store.
“When you hear her hang up, go check the paper supply in the drawers. She’s a stickler for that. It will impress her.”
Amber reached under the counter where the pens were stored and grabbed a handful to fill the customer pen cup. “You still gonna go look at furniture this afternoon?”
Cassidy nodded.
“You figure out what to do if you buy it?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, if it’s not giant pieces maybe we can tie it into the back of my trunk or something. If you decide to buy it, I’ll try to help you move it.”
Amber drove a ten-year old faded green Ford Escort with a dented rear bumper, a stone-chipped windshield, and oversized pink fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror. It didn’t look like it could make it until tomorrow, let alone serve as a U-haul. And Cassidy couldn’t afford to get friendly with anyone.
“Thanks, Amber, but I