The Mall Read Free

shave. I like the way Josie acts when she’s alone, or with someone like Katrien, someone she obviously trusts.
With the customers watching, or even with the rest of the bookshop’s night staff, Josie feels like she has to be on show. She’s that beautiful. Seriously. It must be hard for her.
    ‘I had to meet Bobby at ten and the bloody lockdown lasted till after eleven,’ Katrien says.
    ‘Ja, and I heard it wasn’t anything serious. Just, like, three guys with one gun, and they only hit McDonald’s. Complete overreaction.’ Josie takes a deep drag, the smoke
seeps out of her nose as she exhales, trickling out of the corner of her mouth. She pinches the bridge of her nose and closes her eyes and I wonder what she’s thinking.
    ‘I think I heard there was a politician here for dinner, so I suppose…’
    Josie drops her stub and mashes it out with her sandal. ‘It’s ridiculous, I swear.’
    She’s about to light another one when we all hear the sound of footsteps along the corridor.
    ‘Bradley, sweetie,’ Josie performs as he comes along, jangling his keys in his trouser pockets. I can’t understand how anyone could flirt with Bradley. He’s so insipid,
yet they fall over to laugh at his unfunny jokes. That’s what you get if you’re the boss, I suppose. Big boss that he is. Floor manager of a bookshop. Whoopee.
    ‘Stalker,’ laughs Katrien. ‘I’m going to report you to the authorities.’
    ‘I am the authorities,’ Bradley says. ‘And it’s time to get back on counter. Movies are over and the zombies have descended.’
    ‘Another Dan Brown flick and everyone’s suddenly a reader,’ mumbles Katrien.
    ‘I need to buy a drink first, okay?’ says Josie.
    ‘Sure, I’ll come with you,’ Bradley says. ‘For the walk.’
    They turn and notice me sitting there. Katrien smiles at me. Josie grimaces like the dog just shat on the carpet. Bradley blushes up his scrawny neck. ‘What are you doing here?’
    I feel my face burning in response. ‘Uh, dinner break?’
    ‘Well, it’s getting busy. You’re supposed to be merchandising with Khosi.’
    ‘Ja, I’m coming.’
    Stupid fucker. He always sends Khosi and me to merchandise at the end of a shift so that he can hang over the counter making inane small talk with the girls. Of course, Khosi’s a girl, but
she’s not Bradley’s type, I guess. So it’s always her and me, doing the invisible duties. As if Bradley’s got a chance with any of the late-staff girls anyway. And
he’s mainly got the horn for Josie. Katrien always hangs out with Josie but I don’t think they’ve got much in common. She’s not bad herself, I suppose; she’s like
Josie’s supporting actress, but she dresses in these shapeless outdated hippie clothes.
    The three of them walk away and I can hear Bradley saying something in his monotone and Josie replying with a peal of giggles, looking back at me, then giggling again.
    I crumple up the Niknaks bag, chuck it in one of the janitor’s buckets and start on the Nosh bar. The minute hand on my watch nudges up to the nine. No fucking way I’m going back on
shift early. In fact, I’m taking an extra few minutes; call it my smoke break.
    I hear someone whistling, the echoing slap of rubber footfalls. A butcher from Woolworths, bald head covered in a plastic cap and stained white overalls tucked into blue wellingtons, ambles by,
picking his nose as he goes. He stands for a while outside the coldroom door, its triple-glazed port window spider-webbed from an old robbery, finishes his nostrilful and keys in the entrance code:
1-2-3-4. I’ve watched them dial that code in countless times. Woolworths install this hi-tech security system and then don’t trust their staff to remember the code.
    I count down four seconds and the blast of cold meat-air whooshes up the corridor like the wind in front of a subway train. If I were someone else, the stench of frozen blood might put me off
steak for life. But I’m