Giselle sighed with gusto and tapped me on the shoulder. “Please, tell me we will not have to wear that?”
It hadn’t occurred to me. I shuddered, because why wouldn’t I? “I don’t think so. No one has mentioned a costume to me. It’s not in the product-knowledge brochure or the communiques from head office.” I waved vaguely at the folders of information and promotional material filed under the cash register.
The posse of new girls reached the counter in front of me, all of them sharing dazed and confused expressions. The one at the front of the pack, bearing the name ‘Penny’ on her name tag, looked close to tears.
I pulled myself up to full height, five foot five in heels, and forced myself into calm, professional mode. I’d been expecting new staff, if not their mad two-dollar-shop costume-party appearance. “Welcome everyone. I’m Lily, the counter manager. Your fearless leader.” I saluted, for fun.
A few of the women smiled and said hello. I did a quick head count. Eight casual staff had arrived. Quite a large crew, and more than I’d been expecting. I’d put them to work though. I’d booked a training room and would have them gift wrapping before I unleashed them on the cosmetics floor for promotions.
After a quick pep talk, and they needed the pep, I ushered them away, the new girls headed towards the training room. I’d be gone for half an hour. An hour, tops. The gift wrapping in the training room would be quicker with a whole team. Still, I wanted to make sure my regular staff were okay.
Gillian was busy straightening the display in the glass-fronted cabinets, making sure the gold boxes of a swanky brand were prominently displayed.
I waved at Giselle where she was crouched behind the counter, pulling stock out of the drawers at floor level. “Bye, G. See you in a while. Oh, don’t forget to fill in your sales sheet for the week.”
Giselle nodded once. “Of course. Good luck with the new...girls.” Her lips twisted to one side for a second. Elegant as she was, this was her contained version of a guffaw.
I raised my freshly waxed eyebrows. “Thanks for the support.”
I lead the newbies across the ground floor to the training room out past women’s fashion. They cooed over the new season’s clothes as we went. I didn’t blame them.
The Spring Racing displays were well done. They were a constant temptation to spend up on my credit card. The mannequins wore elegant retro-style dresses in a bouquet of fresh colours, and fancy hats adorned with feathers and ribbons. Rows of matching accessories including purses and necklaces were displayed on low tables. It was like a sweet shop full of treats for grown women.
I ushered the newbies away from the goodies and towards the training room at the end of a long corridor. This area was only accessible to staff, but this lot had all cleared a security check with their promotional agency to get the job.
We were near the changing rooms to the left of the warehouse-style storeroom when from the corner of my eye I saw Petula hand-signalling. She was near a rack of black jackets, hopping from foot to foot as if she had to go to the loo.
“Lily!” Petula stage-whispered at me, while ducking her head behind the rack of jackets.
I craned my neck to the right to see what she might be up to. Who knew? I told the group of casuals to go on through to the training room. They each scanned their Visitor cards as they passed through the door.
I approached Petula with caution. Had she completely lost the plot? She was crouched low to the floor now and had a twitchy look. “Are you okay?” I asked. “Do you want me to call someone?”
Petula shout-whispered again, her eyes wide. “You need to talk to Christos. Something weird is going on around here.”
“You don’t say? You’re hiding under a rack of clothes, acting like you’re on the run from the law. You’re not on the run, are you?”
Petula flicked her hair over her shoulder and looked behind her. “No! At least, I don’t think so. But the police were here asking lots of questions. Christos said they want to talk to all the new staff.”
Weird. But it didn’t explain Petula’s current crab-like scurrying in the fashion department. “Right, I’ll see if I can find Christos soon. But tell me what you’re hiding from.”
“Oh, it’s time for volunteer sign-ups for the staff fun run. I’m hiding from Katya from Homewares. I don’t run for anyone!”
This was a pretty good reason to hide, I had to admit. Walking was one thing, but running was some kind of self-induced torture. Why anyone would consider it fun was beyond me. “I think you’re in the clear. See you later, okay?”
“Okay!” Petula scurried away, more crab-like than ever, moving across the floor towards her own counter.
I took off down the corridor after the red-onesie crew, my heels clicking against the polished concrete as I went. All I had to do was train them enough so they wouldn’t scare the customers. I had my work cut out for me.
Chapter Three
A couple of hours later, Penny led the new team through the main aisle of the cosmetics floor. She was spritzing for all she was worth, full credit to her. I stayed on the perfume counter with Giselle, wrapping gifts and ringing up purchases.
The customers weren’t too sure about the fragrance. I couldn’t blame them. An older woman dressed in a fine wool cardigan and day dress screwed up her nose and said, “No thank you, dear.” She raised her right hand and backed away.
I ducked my head to hide my smile as a new customer approached the counter. I looked up, then ratcheted my neck higher still. She may have been the tallest woman I’d seen in real life. Beautiful too, in a model-like ice-princess way. A modern Hitchcock blonde. She was all cheekbones and pouty lips, and so close I almost forgot to breathe. Wow.
Veronica Versuvius, model-slash-actress-slash-singer and probably a few other slashes I’d forgotten. She was here. In my store. In front of me.
Trying not to stare (but probably failing) I tried to look welcoming, not like a complete screaming fangirl about to have a meltdown. I might be a fangirl but I didn’t want to seem like it. She was an incredible actress who melted into the skin of her characters. I loved her in the blockbuster with the hunky English actor, Richard Heath. When they kissed it was ultra-swoony.
Veronica tipped her chin at me and trailed an elegant hand along the edge of the glass and chrome counter. “Do you have the parfum concentrate of Elixir?”
I sighed because I loved the perfume. Forgetting who I was talking to, I gushed like a perfume fangirl. “Oh, I love this fragrance. Isn’t it divine? It’s so complex with lily of the valley and French lavender top notes, then honeysuckle and amber layers come through.”
I stepped to the right and bent before a low cabinet, unlocking it with the key attached to my staff card. This was where the special products were kept. “I have a couple of bottles tucked away, only for our exclusive customers.”
I reached for the gorgeous white satin box with an actual gold-plated lid, tiny butterfly with delicate wings lifting off from the top. The bottle was cut crystal in an old-fashioned style with an elaborate stopper, like a Lalique art glass piece. I carefully lifted the box with both hands. I must have made a gushing noise, because Veronica responded.
“I know, I love the bottle. It’s a work of art.”
I handed the perfume to her, taking utmost care not to drop it or fall on my face, since I’d been such an uncoordinated disaster lately.
She took it with her hand extended palm up, then wrapped her fingers around the base. “So beautiful. I’ll take it!”
I gasped, not even trying to hide my reaction. This bottle was exclusive based on price alone. Over seven hundred dollars’ worth of exclusivity. Veronica placed her platinum credit card in my hand and I could have squealed to see her name typed on the card, just like on the credits of a movie screen.
I rang up the purchase like the professional I was, scanning Veronica’s card. Then I wrapped the perfume in the best gift box I could find—a white embossed box with a black velvet ribbon. I
made sure to hide any sticky tape and cut the ends of the ribbon on a forty-five-degree angle so it looked fabulous. Then I placed it in a shopping bag.
I popped the bag on the counter. “Can I ask you a movie question? It’s nothing too weird, I promise.”
Veronica pressed her lips together, then offered a tight smile. “All right, shoot.”
I sucked in a deep breath, then let the words tumble out. “What was it like kissing Richard Heath?”
Veronica laughed lightly, the sound like a wind chime. “It was nice. Actually, he’s an exceptional kisser.” She glanced over each of her shoulders, as if checking for eavesdroppers.
I spied her entourage of two black-suited security guards near the escalators, trying but failing to blend in as regular shoppers. Big, burly blokes hanging out near the anti-aging skincare counter were a dead giveaway. They crossed their arms over their broad chests and hovered there without making eye contact with anyone, which was odd.
Veronica leaned in over the counter. “I demanded re-take after re-take. I was a real diva, which isn’t normally like me. It was worth it even if the director was fuming.” Veronica’s sapphire-blue eyes shimmered with mischief.
A burble of laughter burst from my throat. I didn’t expect her to be cool. Maybe we could be best friends forever. Then my bubble burst.
Veronica said, “Thanks for your help.” She walked away. Not my BFF then.
Across the floor I spotted Christos now standing with the two burly security guys. They were chatting like old mates, laughing and slapping each other on the back. I wondered if Christos knew Veronica? I filed the thought away for later.
Chapter Four
Time passed, not always too slowly. I settled into my job and finally Christmas shoppers descended. This particular day, a red sea of casual spritzer chicks spread out across the department, from the main entrance of the store to the bottom of the escalators. They handed out mini perfume vials attached to sample cards.
Even I had to admit the costumes looked effective from a distance. The scarlet velour jumpsuits stood out like a sore thumb, but they matched the Christmassy décor in the store with the hanging pine laurels and suspended sparkly baubles. In their costumes, the girls looked like red rose petals scattered across the floor.
A pop tune came ringing out from the P.A. system. It had me humming and feeling positively festive. Mariah Carey’s modern classic, All I Want For Christmas Is You was irresistible. I hummed along, swaying and hip-bumping with Giselle as we went about our cabinet stocking. But my good mood didn’t last.
BY TWO-THIRTY, I COULD stand it no longer.
We’d had a flood of customers since eleven, with no let-up. I’d had no break and was rapidly becoming a ravenous beast-monster. Customers were hovering around the perfume counter like bees seeking pollen. But I had to eat and sit down before I either bit someone’s head off or passed out. I leaned on the edge of the counter and took a deep breath.
I pressed a hand to my stomach as it gurgled. “I need lunch. Can you hold the fort?”
I cast the question over my shoulder at my team members, who had each just finished serving a couple of ‘high-touch’ customers, as they’d say in marketing class. These were customers requiring a high level of service and hand-holding, all our ad-speak, upselling and product-knowledge expertise. In other words, they were exhausting.
“Yes, though I will need a break soon too. My feet are killing me!” This, from Giselle, wasn’t surprising. Her shoes were always skyscraper-high designer numbers, gorgeous but impractical.
I glanced at her feet and swallowed a stab of shoe-envy. Those beauties were worth the pain. High heels with black and white stripes on the little bows adorning the instep. Sweet but sexy too.
I nodded at the girls in turn. “Okay, Gigi, you go in half an hour and we’ll crossover.”
I strolled away towards the staff-only area through fitness apparel, and stiffened as I felt a presence close behind me. It wasn’t unheard of to be followed by male customers. I was wary ever since a young woman from kitchenware had to enlist security to walk her to her car. Everyone was talking about it.
I glanced over my shoulder and my heart hippity-hopped with excitement to find Christos walking behind me. But he didn’t look up. He was watching his own feet as he walked. Then he was right beside me. He wanted to talk to me. My tummy tightened at the thought.
He walked at my pace, and I felt his sideways glance. My heart jitterbugged like I’d been listening to Wham! on the 80s radio station I liked.
He cleared his throat. “Lily, do you have a moment?”
I fluttered my eyelashes without thinking. “For you, all the moments.” Where had this flirty fox sprung from? I was usually tongue-tied when I met a man I liked. Or wanted to have babies with, whatever.
He frowned in a crinkly way. “Good to know. The break room okay?”
“Sure. Give me five minutes.”
I scooted off to the staff bathroom to powder my nose. In my case, it wasn’t a euphemism. I got horrible shiny skin after wearing thick make-up under the store’s lights. So I primped and primed in front of the mirror, applying translucent powder from my compact, then Red Hot Mama lipstick and my favourite Better Than Sex mascara. I was perfectly prettified again. Exiting the Ladies, I veered right to the secure area where we stored our bags and personal items during our shifts.
Then I dashed into the break room and immersed myself in its awfulness. With its chipped laminate tables, and old magazines, the whole look could have been dropped in from my old living room, back when we still owned the old suburban three-bedroom house. Before Dad died, leaving the family broke.
I deposited myself on a seat and grabbed my phone from my handbag. I had a message from my sister, KC.
No, she wasn’t the lead singer of the Sunshine Band. Her name was Katherine Claire, but KC suited her.
KC – Want to hang if I drive down to Melb on Friday?
Really? She was going to drive all the way from Sydney to Melbourne? That was over ten hours on the road! My little sister, seven years younger than me, still seemed too young to have her driver’s licence. But she was eighteen now and had passed her test, so I guess she could drive.
I’d always been like a second mum to KC and I didn’t like the idea of her driving all the way on her own. Anything could happen. What if she ran out of petrol halfway down the Princes Highway, surrounded by trucks? What if she was driving late at night and hit a kangaroo on the road? Or fell asleep at the wheel? I couldn’t think about it.
I frowned at the screen, tapping and re-tapping a reply that wouldn’t sound too overprotective and annoying. What should I say?
“Are you okay?”
I glanced up to find Christos right in front of me, standing behind a kitchen chair. He gestured to it, as if asking permission to sit with me. I nodded, he sat opposite me, watching me the whole time.
Sundry thought balloons of worry circled my head. I couldn’t even articulate all the things I was worried about when it came to KC I tapped out a quick message telling her I’d call her tonight to chat.
I pressed my lips together, then told Christos a smidge of what I was feeling. “I’m fine. It’s my little sister. She wants to drive all the way from Sydney to Melbourne by herself. I worry.” I confided the last part in a whisper.
Christos studied my face in silence for a beat or two, then sat back and stretched his long legs to one side. He was too big for the table, like a high-school football player visiting a kindergarten class.
He crossed his arms over his massive chest. “You’re right to worry. It can be a dangerous trip, even for experienced drivers. How old is she?”
“Just eighteen.”
“Yeah, I’d worry if she was my sister. I’d probably buy her a plane ticket.” He scratched the back of his neck, looking super serious and super sexy. “Too many bad things can happen on the road. Too many crazy drivers.”
Didn’t I know it?
He didn�
��t say it, but I’d heard he’d been a cop. The word was out through the store. Christos had been a police officer for a few years, but for some scandalous reason he’d resigned from the force and gone back to college to study law or something. So the rumours went. I wanted to ask him about it, but I didn’t want to upset him and ruin our chances of being...friendly.
I put down my phone with a dull thud on the table. “I think you’re right. I’ll call her tonight and see if I can talk her into flying down.” I tipped my head to the side and pressed my lips together. “What did you want to ask me?”
His eyes widened for a second. “Oh, right. This is kind of an odd request, but I was wondering if we could meet a few times a month. You could let me know about anything out of the ordinary you notice at work.”
This was unusual. Could it have been an excuse to see me? But why wouldn’t he just ask me out, if he was actually interested? There was my answer. He wasn’t interested. He was only doing his job.
I shrugged. “Okaaay. I’m not sure what would constitute ‘out of the ordinary’? Lynda being nice? Or me actually being able to create a shop display without falling on my arse?”
In my fantasy version of the incident that morning I fell on my arse behind the counter, Christos leaned over me and kissed me. Really kissed me, until I was a moaning, writhing mess on the floor. Good fantasy.
I interrupted my regularly scheduled daydreams to find Christos chuckling. His dark eyes had come alive with cheekiness. He was truly adorable. I studied his high, sculpted cheekbones and the firm line of his jaw. I may have licked my lips.
Heart Note Page 3
