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A high school student finds a grimoire that shows how to make magical disguises. |
Previously: "Chasing Stephanie"  Sean offers to drive you both out to meet Stephanie, and when you decline he hitches a ride with you. He's in a light, sparkling mood, and though he doesn't talk much, he does a lot of silent grinning to himself. You wonder if he sneaked a nip or two before leaving work. * * * * * Argosy Furniture sits at one of the weirder intersections in town, where Thirtieth Street dumps into Borman Road right where Borman hooks a fifteen degree turn. So it's like three streets running into each other in one spot. The store itself is like a warehouse, a three-story building of weathered brick that occupies most of its block. Immense bay windows glint out at the parking lot and at the traffic that grumbles past on Borman. Sean texts Stephanie, using your phone, saying that you are on your way out, and she gives you directions for parking in the back. She's waiting by a featureless metal door by a trash dumpster when you park, and her eyes light up when she sees Sean hopping out of the truck. "Hey man," she shouts. "I didn't know you were coming too!" "Yeah, you thought I was Will," Sean chortles. "But it wasn't, I was just using his phone. You mind if I get a tour too?" "Sure thing. Will tell you about this job?" "Yeah, and we already talked about it." Sean throws a meaty arm around your shoulder. "You can't hire me if you don't hire him." "Well, let me show you around, tell you about it." She opens the door and ushers you inside. The lower floor of the building is a showroom of all kinds of furniture: living room, dining room, bedroom, kitchen, of all styles and price ranges. There are even semi-closed off areas, built like movie sets where furniture has been arranged show off a cohesive effect, and she explains how these are constantly being swapped around and photographed for upload to the store's website. There's also a section given over to exercise equipment, which Stephanie invites the two of you try out—Sean does; you demur—and another for electronics like TVs. There's a staircase up to the second and third floors, but Stephanie takes you up in the freight elevator, which is used to move items between floors. These top floors are storage areas for items not on display, and includes lots of packing crates containing assemble-it-yourself shelves and cabinets, and there are more of those "standing sets." The third floor is where the offices are. Of course, you wonder how a town even the size of Saratoga Falls can support such a massive furniture enterprise, let alone the competition. Stephanie explains that a lot of business gets drawn in from all over this part of the state, not just Saratoga Falls, and most of the business involves furniture that never comes out of storage. "Our online sales are huge," she says. "It's the biggest part of the business, actually. People shop online, see the goods, buy them online and we get one of the moving companies to haul the stuff out and away." Some of the inventory, she tells you, technically doesn't even belong to the store, and some of the store's inventory is stored off-site, some of it even in other states. "My pop buys furniture from all over," she says, "and doesn't even have it shipped out here. It just stays with the store he bought it from until he can arrange a sale. Same thing with some of our stuff here, it belongs to other stores and we just hold onto it until they sell it. It's pretty goddammed complicated." As for what you (and/or Sean) would be doing: Most of the work, she explains after your trio have gone across the street to the Cherry Brook Bakery, would involve moving things, but since you're not exactly built for moving massive items— "We gotta keep track of inventory," she says as you nibble on small meat pies. "We gotta know where stuff is and who it belongs to. We got a whole system set up, using tablets and stickers and bar codes and what not, to do it all with. The guys we got working for us, well, a lot of 'em barely speak English, so we need someone to supervise who can run the electronics end. The guy we had quit—" "Why'd he quit?" Sean asks. Stephanie pauses. "Okay, he and my pop got into it, but it was his fault, not my pop's. He was an asshole. Um." She looks at you. "And I can give you pointers on how to handle my pop." "Is the system hard to use?" you ask. "You ever work in a school library? It's not a lot harder than that. Just move stuff, get it in the right place, and make sure you record it in the system. And there's, uh, room for advancement. The guy before the last guy? He's now our bookkeeper." This all sounds pretty good, but you have to confess to Stephanie that your dad is skeptical about your ability to handle responsibilities greater than picking stuff up and putting it down again. Sean assures you that you'll be able to talk your dad into making the switch, but you leap at Stephanie's offer to come out and talk to your dad direct, so that he can hear straight from her what the job is like and entails, and how you don't have to have a lot of experience already in order to pick it up. In fact, she'll go out with you now, if you like. * * * * * You have to drop Sean off back at Salopek so he can collect his truck, but you still manage to beat Stephanie back over to your place. Robert is in the driveway shooting baskets, and he gives you a jaundiced look as you dismount. "What are you doing back so fast?" he bluntly demands. "What do you mean?" "Pshh. I was counting on having the house to myself until, like, nine tonight." That's when you remember that your dad was taking your mom out. "Damn it," you growl. "Someone's coming over to talk to him." "Who?" "None of your business. Someone from school." "The principal? You get busted for something?" "No! I'm thinking about changing jobs, and she— It's complicated, okay?" Robert grins cheekily, and bounces the ball. "Is it a girl? A girl is helping you get a job?" "She's a friend from school. It's her family's business." Robert's grin deepens. "Is it the girl who got wasted and threw up on you at that party the other night?" Your jaw drops. "The fuck are you—? No! Where the fuck did you hear about—?" When he laughs, you grab him by the neck. But then— Striking fast as a cobra, Robert punches you in the side of the face so hard it sets your skull ringing, and you stagger back in surprise. Robert hurls the basketball away and, his eyes flaming with anger, he crouches with balled-up fists. "The fuck's got into you, you little freak?" You are shaken and even a little scared. "Don't fucking touch me, Will." "Well, keep your goddammed mouth—!" Just then, providentially, a sedan pulls up behind your truck. You and Robert settle back to glare at each other; and you're glaring still as Stephanie gets out. "Hey!" she calls. Then she freezes, and her eyes dart between you and Robert. "Something going on here?" "It is that girl," Robert jeers in an undertone. "We're fine," you tell Stephanie. "Um, my folks aren't here, I forgot they were going out to dinner tonight. Um—" You take out your phone. "I guess I can text them." "Oh, don't worry. I can come out tomorrow, maybe, if you still need me to talk to your dad." "Uh ... Okay. I'm sorry I dragged you all the way out here." "No worries, Will." Stephanie grins at you. "I just live over that way a few blocks." She waves her hand off toward the river. "See you at school tomorrow?" "Yeah! Oh, and— Thanks." "Sure thing, man." With a bright wave she gets back into her car, and you wave to her as she backs out. "Is she gonna be your girlfriend?" Robert asks in a malicious undertone. "Or your boss?" "Neither, you little tick." "Fine. Maybe she'll be my girlfriend, then." "Don't make me puke." You stalk into the house, shaking with anger, frustration and—yes—even a little fear, and you feel Robert's eyes drilling into your back as you go. * * * * * It bothers you—enrages you—the entire rest of the evening, even after you've shut yourself up in your room and tried to concentrate on homework. But you can't ignore or forget it: For the first time ever, you let Robert get the best of you. Yes, there's no avoiding it. You let the little shit out-badger you, out-jeer you, out-last you, and you even let him best you with that humdinger of a punch. You've never gone out of your way to keep atop him—you're not aware of any simmering "sibling rivalry" on your part—but you're used to being able to quickly squash him when he gets too uppity at you. But tonight was different. And is that going to mark a change? It makes you ill to think that you might have lost that long-time, almost unconscious advantage you've had over him. You've now learned—and you fear that he's learned, too—that you'll back down if he hits back. And though you don't like it, that fact makes you feel weak and sick. It's an hour before your parents get home, and you hesitate before going down to see them. Voices are drifting up from the living room when you reach the top of the stairs. "So what do we do?" your mom is asking. She sounds worried. "We'll wait till tomorrow," comes a reply, and it startles you when you recognize the voice as Robert's, for he sounds very adult. "We'll do it at his work. That's how we should have handled it today." Your mom says something inaudible, then Robert says: "Yeah, tomorrow morning, but it'll be just for the day." Next: "An Overwhelming Question" |
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