not.
I’d better get back on shift now. As I’m walking toward the mall exit, the neon lights flicker off and the emergency lights come on. The air-con grinds to a halt, like someone
switching off the sea. At first I think it’s another lockdown like last night’s. But this is not just a brief brown-out; the emergency lights stay on. Great, a power cut. They were
amusing the first few times. I’d get to go home early, maybe get a drink first. But now they happen every week, and Only Books has installed minimal battery backups. Which means we have to
carry on working, writing everything down and then spend ages after our shift when the power comes back on entering all the sales and manual credit card transactions. Management has its way of
spoiling my fun.
My heart sinks a little at the sight of the corridor’s double exit doors, lined with their thick and scuffed black rubber fold, sealing Highgate Mall’s workers and deliverymen away
from the shoppers. Out of my safe place and back into the world of retail slavery. I’m just about to open them and step back onto the stage when a kid slams in and runs down the corridor. I
almost shit myself. He’s a fat little dark-haired guy in a red T-shirt and jeans, and goes sprinting past me. But he’s making no sound. Maybe he’s barefoot, I don’t know. I
think about following him to see where he’s going, to see if he’s okay, but then the lights come up with a suck of power and I decide to head back. It’s not as if there’s
anywhere for him to go.
Khosi is on a ladder in the Only Books display window, filling it with the crap that people who proudly say ‘I don’t read’ read. Only Books. Yeah right, make that Only Books,
Coffee, Chocolates, Chips, Gift wrap, Stationery, Even Fucking Cellphones. Corporate bullshit.
When I walk in there’s a sour old bitch haranguing Katrien at the counter. Bradley, who a minute ago was probably regaling her with stories of his weekend Dungeons and Dragons blowout or
some such shit, is nowhere to be seen.
‘I haven’t driven all the way over here to waste my time. You people said the book was here and I expect it to be here!’
Katrien’s saying, ‘Ma’am, can you just tell me who—’
‘I don’t care!’ screams the woman, glancing at the three customers waiting behind her, assuming they’ll support her. ‘My God. The service here is pathetic,
isn’t it?’ They shift on their feet, trying not to be part of the scene.
Katrien’s tapping away at the computer, mumbling, ‘ The Leonardo Code … we don’t seem to have a record of that one.’ Baiting the woman, seeing whether she can
score a star on the Crack Chart we hide in the back office.
‘Listen, darling,’ the woman drawls in the tone she obviously reserves for retarded waitresses. ‘Just call your manager, okay?’
Eventually Katrien’s forced to call Bradley. Po-faced, he finds the right book on the Evergreen Backlist display heap and sends the woman on her way with the standard ingratiations.
Katrien and the next customer stifle their smiles as the woman huffs out of the shop.
‘Where’ve you been?’ Bradley asks me, tapping his watch.
‘Uh, tidying poetry.’
‘Mm,’ he says, already forgetting me and taking up his place against the counter. I load a trolley with books for shelving.
A few minutes later Simon, the mall security guy, comes into the shop trailed by Sipho, our store security guard. At this hour it must be serious to get Simon out of the security office and away
from their special coffee and porn.
I watch him talking to Katrien and Bradley, then Bradley beckons me over to the counter. Katrien mutters, ‘Something about a missing kid.’
‘What sort of kid? Did they—’
Simon stands across the counter from me. He reeks of highproof, low-quality alcohol and halitosis.
‘What’s your name?’ Simon asks me.
‘Daniel.’
‘You see a small kid anywhere? Uh, eight, nine. Black. We’ve got this…