Heller’s Decision

by JD Nixon

  Suitably chastened, I worked doubly hard for the rest of the day. After the store closed for the day, Jodee (the other sales assistant) and I spent a further thirty minutes sweeping, re-racking discarded clothes and tidying up the clothes racks, while Miss Petunia worked the till, reconciling the day’s takings against the dockets and credit card chits.

  “You can go now, girls,” Miss Petunia said, not looking up from her work. “We’ll see you again tomorrow, Matilda.” Did that mean I’d got the job or was it just an extended free trial?

  Jodee and I walked to the carpark together, chatting about inconsequential things, but then split up to head to our vehicles. As soon as I reached the 4WD, I stopped with dread.

  Someone had scratched ‘BITCH’ into the paintwork at the rear of the car. Probably that guy who’d wanted the parking bay too, I thought with a gloom that lasted all the way home. Someone was going to kick my butt about that eventually.

  I trudged up the stairs with tiredness, thinking of a long, hot bath and a nice meal, when one of the men poked his head out of the security section doorway.

  “Clive wants to see you in his office now,” he said.

  I groaned. My butt kicking must be coming sooner than even I anticipated.

  Chapter 30

  Although my immediate thought had been that I was in trouble for the car-scratching, a little glimmer of hope shined inside me that Clive might have some news about Heller. But when I spotted his thunderous features through the glass panel of his office, that little glimmer died an unnatural death.

  His cold, flat eyes stalked me across the room as I approached. When I reached his door, he lifted an index finger in a flicking motion, which I assumed meant he was telling me to shut the door. It appeared my bollocking would take place in private, which was more concession than Heller ever gave anyone.

  Clive nodded brusquely towards one of his visitors’ chairs, indicating I should plant my butt. So I did, waiting nervously for what would happen next.

  “You took one of the vehicles today.”

  “I needed to get to work and my car doesn’t have any petrol,” I explained. I did a mental face-palm because my car still didn’t have any – how would I get to work tomorrow?

  “I want to make this perfectly clear, because you seem to struggle to understand basic concepts. Don’t touch the fleet vehicles again. Drive your own car.”

  “And as I just told you, it doesn’t have any petrol at the moment. I need petrol in my car so I can drive to a petrol station to buy petrol,” I said slowly for his comprehension, because two of us could play that little game.

  He stared at me for a moment, his eyes unblinking and his face stripped of all emotion. He picked up his phone and barked out a few orders.

  “I’m giving you the barest amount of fuel. It will be enough for you to drive to the nearest petrol station that’s three blocks from here. Understand?”

  “Yes,” I replied, a little snarky. He didn’t have to treat me like an imbecile.

  His phone rang again. His half of the conversation consisted of a series of varying grunts. When he finished, I was treated to a full blast of his death stare again.

  “The paintwork is damaged.”

  “What paintwork?” I asked in pretend innocence. He wasn’t buying it.

  “The paintwork on the vehicle you stole. It has the word ‘bitch’ scratched into the back.”

  “I didn’t steal it. Don’t be so overdramatic.”

  “Who did it?”

  “How would I know? I was at work. It wasn’t there when I parked this morning and it was when I left in the afternoon. What happened in between then is a mystery to me.”

  “You won’t touch one of those fleet vehicles again. I’m going to be down a 4WD because of you. Now it will have to go to a repair shop. I can’t have any of the men driving around in a bitch-wagon.”

  I helpfully gave him the name and address of the Incredible Bulk. “Whatever you do, don’t go to him, otherwise you’ll never see the 4WD again.”

  “If I’m disadvantaged by being one vehicle down, I will be using that car you drive for my men. Understand?”

  “I understand!” I snapped. “But I need it to get to work.”

  “Tough shit.”

  “I don’t like taking the bus.”

  “Tough shit.”

  “You can’t just take my car like that.”

  “Why not? You took mine and didn’t seem to have any conscience about it.”

  “I was desperate.” But it was no use – it was like arguing with a rock mountain and just about as much fun.

  “And you seem to have forgotten that it’s not your car, it’s Heller’s car.”

  “How could I possibly forget with you here obligingly reminding me every five seconds?” I stood to leave. I had better things to do – like clearing out the mouldy things shoved to the back of my fridge.

  “I will be informing Heller about this.”

  “Of course you will,” I scorned. “And anyway, speaking of Heller – where is he? Have you been in contact with him? Every time I ring him it says he’s out of range.”

  “How would I know where he is? I’m not his secretary.”

  “I’m calling bullshit on that. I bet you know everything about this extra job of his.”

  He crossed his arms and stared me down. It was pointless trying to interrogate him further. I knew he’d never spill a word, even if it were just to deny he knew anything.

  In the stairwell I bumped into Bick returning from a job.

  “I have a present for you,” I smiled. He struggled to return the smile. His ‘breakup’ with Dixie must have hit him hard, though I wasn’t sure you could break up with someone with whom you’d only had a few dates.

  He waited expectantly.

  “You’ll have to come upstairs to my flat.”

  He failed to show any enthusiasm for that, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling where our every move was being monitored.

  “Don’t worry about those bloody cameras. I’m not planning on jumping you.”

  He smiled faintly. “Shame.”

  I punched his arm in a friendly, light way. “Come on.”

  At the door to my flat he hovered, not quite daring to enter.

  I sighed with impatience. “Bick, just get your arse in here. You’re not going to get into trouble.”

  “I don’t want Heller to fire me, or even worse, beat me up.”

  “All right. You stay at the door if it makes you feel better.” I handed him Security Swingers. His eyes almost plopped out of his head. “I thought you’d be interested in watching this.”

  “I know what I’ll be doing this evening.”

  I leaned on the doorway, crossing my arms. “So what happened between you and Dixie?”

  He shrugged. “She stopped answering when I rang her, and didn’t respond to any of my messages. So I thought I’d have it out with her in person. But when I got to her apartment block, I spotted her going into the building with another guy. They were all over each other. I took the hint.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry, Bick. I really am.”

  “I can take rejection, but it would have been nice of her to let me know, instead of just cutting me loose without a word.”

  “Dixie’s never been the most considerate person in the world, I’m afraid.”

  “It was fun while it lasted.”

  “Someone else will come along for you.”

  “I suppose. One day. In the meantime, I have this.” He waggled the DVD.

  “It’s very . . . um . . . I wouldn’t call it realistic, but it has a certain entertainment value.”

  “And your score out of ten for it?”

  “About a two. Some of the scenes were unintentionally hilarious.”

  “I’ll let you know what I think tomorrow.”

  I laid my hand on his arm. “I really am sorry about Dixie. I should have warned you from the start that she’s a player. I guess I hoped she’d be different wit
h you.”

  “One thing I’ve learned is that you can’t change people, especially if they’re not willing to change.”

  “Very true, unfortunately.” My thoughts instantly turned to Heller. There was no changing him.

  I was a little early for work the next day, even though the first thing I’d done was stop to fill up my petrol tank. I had to wait outside the store, sipping a large flat white, until Miss Petunia arrived and opened.

  She looked me up and down critically. I’d worn one of the designer skirt suits Heller had paid for when he first hired me. “You can’t wear that in my shop.”

  I was taken aback. It was an expensive, well-regarded brand and exactly the type of image I thought she’d desire – understated elegance. “Why not?”

  “I don’t sell that brand. I want my girls to represent the brands I do sell. You must buy something from the store to wear.”

  “Buy? Can’t I just borrow something?”

  “Of course not! I’m running a business, not a charity. I’ll give you a five per cent discount and that’s my first and final offer.”

  Grumbling to myself, I picked out the least expensive outfit in the shop, a light dress, paying for it with my credit card.

  She looked up at me from beneath her glasses and tapped a nearby display of jewellery. “Matilda, surely you know the golden rule for fashion – accessorise, accessorise, accessorise.” She considered the display for a while, finally picking out a necklace and pair of earrings. “I’ll put these on your card as well.”

  I changed into my new clothes, carefully folding up mine and storing them in the back office. It was a nice dress, but I felt sick every time I thought of that large credit charge being added to my card.

  She looked at me approvingly. “Much better. Now you’re a walking ambassador for my store.” I busied myself tidying racks of clothes that had been thoroughly tidied the previous evening. “Oh, and by the way, you’ll need a different outfit for every day.”

  What? A new one every day? It was beginning to look as though I couldn’t afford this job. I’d be better off unemployed and earning nothing than to earn a negative pay.

  It was a slow day, Miss Petunia electing to spend most of it in the back office doing paperwork. Jodee and I virtually pounced on any customer who ventured through the door, as there were so few. I tried to keep busy, but there were only so many times a person could tidy racks of clothes and make sure the fitting rooms were immaculate.

  I had a minor mishap when a rack of clothes I was straightening up for the third time that morning, collapsed under the weight of its clothes, sending them puddling to the floor. I could swear I had nothing to do with it, apart being the one actually touching it at the time. But of course a petulant Miss Petunia took it out on a red-faced me, and believe me when I say that woman had a tongue in her mouth sharper than a razor blade.

  Glad to escape for lunch, I grabbed some fried chicken and chips, exactly the kind of food Heller wouldn’t allow. But as he wasn’t here, I enjoyed the rare junk food splurge, though I had to be careful not to spill any of the greasy food on to my new dress. I spent the rest of my lunch break wandering around looking in the shopfronts at the various displays.

  Trent rang me, asking me how I was going, admitting he’d been concerned for me. “I’ve used every chance I have to advocate for you, Tilly. I want you back here. We worked so well together. Poor Scottie has to do your job now as well as his own. He’s at breaking point, but those useless arseholes upstairs won’t back down. I think Brady’s whispering in their ears every chance he gets.”

  “I thought they’d want to accommodate their biggest star.”

  “Ha! I’m just a commodity to them. I have their respect only up to the precise second People’s Pulse starts losing market share. And then it’s au revoir to me.”

  “You’re such a cynic.”

  “You don’t get far in this business by being a nice guy and giving people the benefit of the doubt. I learned that the hard way.”

  “Thanks for trying anyway, Trent. I really appreciate it.”

  “I’ll keep at them. Maybe I can wear them down?”

  “Maybe.”

  “How’s your new job?”

  “Boring. And I’m not even sure I’m really employed there. Miss Petunia keeps avoiding answering me when I ask.”

  “Miss Petunia?”

  “That’s what I have to call her.”

  “Good God. Sounds like something from a Jane Austen book.”

  “Are you jealous? If I ever come back to work for you I’ll call you Miss Trent, if you like.”

  “Cheeky wench.” I heard Brady’s voice from afar, yelling out something. Trent covered the mouthpiece, but I could still hear his voice, though a little muffled. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a second.” Then to me, “I’m sorry, Tilly. I have to go. Talk to you soon.”

  Back in the shop, the afternoon picked up a little and there was just enough to do to see us through until closing time.

  “What a terrible day’s takings,” complained Miss Petunia as she reconciled. “If I have many more like this, then I’m going to have to let one of you go. This year has been shocking for sales.”

  We all knew whom she’d choose out of Jodee and me. I might be unemployed again sooner than I expected.

  “Perhaps less people have money to spend on designer clothes these days?” I suggested.

  Her lips pursed. She obviously didn’t appreciate her staff expressing independent thoughts. “I don’t believe it’s your business to become involved in my business,” she said haughtily.

  “I was only trying to be helpful.”

  “You’d be more helpful if you could ensure my clothes didn’t go tumbling to the floor again,” she said sharply.

  Oh brother! “Yes, Miss Petunia,” I grovelled, my self-hate raising itself to a level I’d rarely experienced.

  Did I really need this job? I asked myself on the drive home. She was a petty tyrant and was probably going to sack me soon anyway. Maybe I just wouldn’t return to the store tomorrow. And much later, I marvelled at just how prescient I’d been to think that.

  It was dark by the time I arrived home. I stopped my car on the driveway to swipe my card to open the garage door. A figure ran out of the darkness, banging on my window. Frightened, I sped into the garage the second the door opened far enough for me to squeeze through my little car. In the rear view mirror, I saw that shadowy figure slip under the door just before it closed.

  Whoever it was, now was inside the Warehouse with me.

  I put the brake on and hunted around for a weapon. My plan was to outrun them to the panic button and then sprint up the stairs to the safety of the security men. It was a simple plan that should be simple to implement.

  I flung open the car door and sprang out.

  A hoarse voice called out, “Tilly.”

  I spun around, completely gobsmacked when I saw who slumped against the brick wall.

  “Marcus?”

  Chapter 31

  “Please, Tilly. I need somewhere to stay. My father . . .”

  “Marcus, what’s happened to you?”

  He was in a bad way, one eye puffed closed and bruised, his bottom lip swollen and bleeding. He held his arms around himself as if something hurt inside.

  “We had a fight.” It pained him to speak through his busted lip.

  “You and your father?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about?”

  “He was beating on Mum.”

  “He did this to you? Your own father?”

  “Yes. He said he was going to kill me. I’m really worried about Mum. She’s still there with him.”

  “God.” I looked around me. The camera in our direct line wasn’t on for some reason at the moment. “I have to get you upstairs to my place, but I don’t know how. There are cameras everywhere.”

  I thought for a moment. “Get in the back of my car and keep low,” I instructed.

 
; He did what he was told and I drove up a level.

  “Stay there.” I jogged over to the electricity switchboard and flicked off the mains. We were immediately swallowed in a shroud of darkness, the security cameras dead as well. “Marcus, over here. We have to move fast.”

  He stumbled over to me and holding hands we sprinted up the stairs. We just managed to clear the ground floor landing when the security door burst open and men with torches spilled out. I flattened Marcus against the wall, but Lady Luck was on our side tonight. The men were intent on hitting the basement, none of them thinking to look up the stairs.

  Marcus and I moved as quietly as we could up to my floor, only breathing again when we reached my door. We only just scraped inside before the lights came back on. My phone rang.

  “Everything all right with you? Saw you were down in the garage when the lights went out.”

  “Hello to you too, Clive. I’m fine. I made my way to the safety of my flat. I didn’t want to be trampled by a horde of your men in the darkness.”

  “You know anything about what happened?”

  “Nope.”

  “It seems odd that you were down there when the lights went out.”

  “Just my rotten luck, as usual. I guess a faulty appliance or something tripped the power. You should have all our electricals tested.”

  He hung up on me. Lovely – a man of many manners. But it didn’t bode well for me that he was already suspicious.

  “Will you help me?” Marcus pleaded. I led him over to my lounge.

  “Tell me what happened.”

  “Dad had been drinking. All day long. He was really angry with Mum and me.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? Mum didn’t iron his shirt properly. I didn’t get an A-plus on my last exam. His dinner was a bit late. It didn’t matter why. He was just looking for someone to blame.”