Shelf Monkey (8 page)

“What’s it like, being a lawyer?”

What’s it like being a bitch? “It had its moments.”

“Moments?”

“Moments. Brief periods of satisfaction.”

“But not enough?”

“No, not nearly.”

“Good pay, I’ll bet.”

“Meh.” I shrugged and waggled my fingers in the international signal for
comme ci, comme ça.
“Legal Aid.”

“Ah.”

Click, click.

“Well, I’ll be honest with you, Thomas. I need someone, and I need someone now. I’ve had a few people quit on me recently, and I’m short-staffed.” She leaned forward. I congratulated myself on not recoiling in fright. “But,” she said. Why is there always a but? “But I’ve had bad luck with people like you in the past.”

“People like me?” Lawyers? Lapsed Mennonites?

“Readers. Bibliophiles. People who erroneously believe that the printed word is worth more than printed money. I’ve fired them before, and I hold no compunctions about doing so again. That’s why I have an opening right now. I will not stand for anything less than complete commitment to the achievement of each month’s projected sales quota. This is a business, it’s about making a profit, and if I run it like a car dealership, then that’s the way it is, clear?”

Click, click.

“And frankly, Thomas, if I may speak frankly, the fact that you quit the law does not impress me.It appears to me you might be a quitter.” She leaned back and regarded me, recrossing her legs. A torrent of sweat gathered in my armpits/crotch. “Are you a quitter, Thomas? Should we end this interview right now? Am I wasting my time with you?”

“No.” Did I just piss myself?

“Good. I need people who will sell books, not read them. Reading is secondary to sales. I understand you may believe that the artist is more important than the consumer, but that belief stops the moment you punch in for work. I expect knowledge of the product, of course, but the customer is always right.
Always
.

Clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Good. Do what I say, make the sales, and we’ll get along fine. You start on Monday, we open at ten o’clock, be here by nine-thirty, dress appropriately, no nose rings, eyebrow rings, or anything of that sort. Conservative dress, nothing flashy, no nods to your unique individuality. Long-sleeve shirt, one colour, pants, one colour, shoes, one colour. No labels. You may take any hardcover home you would like to read, provided you return it in pristine condition. Otherwise, it comes out of your pay. You get forty percent off all purchases, including clearance items. Paycheques are every second Friday.”

Click, click.

She stood up, extending a talon toward me. “Welcome to
RED
, Thomas.”

I grasped her claw, shook it firmly. “Thank you, Ms. Adler.”

“Page.”

“Page.”

I managed to leave the building without collapsing, swearing, or assaulting someone. The fresh breeze slapped me around for a bit as I gulped down oxygen by the lungful.

“Whooo. Friend, you look terrible.” Aubrey was slouched up against the wall, rolling a cigarette with his fingers. “She’s a type-A peach, ain’t she?”

I nodded, my head clearing. “She’s a piece of work. She’s what Shakespeare would call one seriously scary lady.”

“That she is, that she is,” he said, sealing the smoke with his tongue. “You smoke up?”

“Only when I’m depressed. Gimme.” He tossed me the cigarette along with his lighter and began rolling another for himself. Cupping my hand against the wind, applying flame to paper, I inhaled deeply, getting instantly dizzy in that good pre-cancerous way. The soothing smog worked its way down my windpipe, telling my lungs to relax, it’ll only be this one time. Too late, the sharp-sour tang of unwashed feet hit my smell receptors, informing me that, by the way, I was not inhaling tobacco/ nicotine/arsenic/toejam smoke, but was in reality now smoking a highly illegal and fairly potent spliff. I held the smoke down,
musing on the possible side effects of marijuana when combined with a sizable dose of anti-depressants, then gave up the thought for being too depressing. Besides, is there such a thing as being too relaxed? And is that a bad thing?

“Don’t let her scare you, dude,” Aubrey said, taking the lighter back and igniting his own, savouring the taste with a heavy sigh.

“Too late,” I gasped, releasing the breath and enveloping my head in a cloud of happiness.

“She may appear vicious, but when you get to know her . . . ah, forget it. She’s Satan incarnate.”

“How do you put up with her?” I asked, another lungful of goodness massaging my nerves. Again, I was mesmerized by his hair, the tentacles swaying in the wind, a sea anemone gathering snacks. “She doesn’t come across as a people person.”

He shrugged, holding a weed cloud in his lungs for a few moments. “Page and people, no, not a good mix,” he said, exhaling. “She’d be happy if there was some way she could manage the store and keep people out of the equation, but you can’t sell without salespeople. Can’t sell without people to sell to. Page is all about the money. I’m all about the books. She hates me, hell, she detests people in general, but I can move the product, in her parlance, so she tolerates my existence. She rarely comes out on the floor anyhow. Just stay out of her way, and you’ll be fine.”

“She’s more afraid of us than we are of her?”

“Hardly. She’ll gut you in a second and use your steaming entrails as casserole filling, if she thinks you’re not living up to your earning potential.”

“What if I play dead?”

“Since when has that ever deterred a carrion-eater?”

“Charming.” I stubbed the embers out against the wall, putting the roach in my jacket pocket for future consumption. “I guess I’ll see you Monday.”

“Monday it shall be then. How’s your head, by the way?”

I massaged my forehead. “I’ll be fine,” I said, sheepish in my embarrassment. “I just hope that wasn’t an omen.”

“Hey, brother, you just had your hand up the nose of a well-known television personality, then went toe-to-toe with the high
priestess of the damned. I would guess that there’s nowhere to go but up.”

Good place to stop for a rest.

Yours,

Thomas

From
Variety

LOS ANGELES
— With the Munroe Purvis investigation still ongoing, Fox Television has announced they have reached a deal with MuPu Incorporated to bring the life and times of Munroe Purvis to the screen.

Margaret Compar, head of Program Development at Fox, says in a press release, “Mr. Purvis’s life has been one of immense hardship and struggle, a truly inspirational story that we hope will provide a valuable glimpse into the inner workings of this most remarkable and influential man.”

When reached for comment, Ms. Compar’s press secretary Marcel Oxford told
Variety
, “The recent unfortunate and tragic developments in Mr. Purvis’s life will be covered in some detail, of course, but we are working hard to ensure this will not be simply a tasteless exposé into a grotesque and horrific occurrence. We have been working hand-in-hand with Munroe’s company to develop Mr.Purvis’s life into a biography format for some time now. He has had a significant impact on our culture, and the recent events of his life notwithstanding, his story of struggle and redemption is a classic American tale that everyone involved with the production is very proud of. That’s why we are now raising the reward for any information that may help solve this horrendous crime.”

Fox Television has pledged one hundred thousand dollars for information leading to the capture of any of the remaining fugitives in the Munroe Purvis case. “An arrest would provide a fine ending to the movie, we admit,” says Oxford. “But far more important to us is that a ruthless criminal be brought to justice.”

As of this writing, insiders have pegged occasional
Family Feud
host and former
Home Improvement
co-star Richard Karn as the likely frontrunner to portray Mr. Purvis.

Dear Eric, Amanda, tabloid journalists, and entertainment lawyers;

If there is to be a bidding war for my story, please go as high as possible. Take them for all they’ll cough up. Ewan MacGregor must portray me in the movie, understand? I will not accept a lesser actor to properly breathe life into the anguish I feel the part demands. No sitcom second bananas, no
Full House
refugees or
21 Jump Street
hasbeens. No, I need someone with the gravitas of Obi-Wan Kenobi and the insouciance of an Irvine Welsh junkie. I demand one hundred thousand dollars up front, plus two percent of the gross if I am innocent in a court of law, not the court of popular opinion. A real judge, not Judge Judy. If MacGregor isn’t available, I’m flexible. Jake Gyllenhaal, Tobey Maguire, Jude Law, or Topher Grace will be adequate. All right, that
Dawson’s Creek
dude with the crescent-shaped head, but that’s as far as I am willing to go.

On second thought, maybe forget the
Jump Street
thing, get Johnny Depp.

The First Day

What you might call my spiritual awakening.

I tell you, Eric, some people don’t deserve the privilege of literacy.

I’m dressed for the occasion. Comfortable Hush Puppies. Eddie Bauer shirt and slacks. Clean socks and underwear. Hair stylishly mussed. Unsightly yet mandatory employees-only vest with Hello My Name is Thomas May I Help You badge on the pocket. Handful of happy pills dancing with fried eggs and toast in my stomach. Lookin’ sharp! So sharp, I arrived ten minutes late.

Every morning, Page held a quick employee meeting before opening the doors to the masses. Usually these were perfunctory events — customers good, browsers bad, sales important, push Munroe’s latest discovery, blah, blah. Luckily I managed to slink in undetected and take a place directly behind Warren. Hopefully my years of camouflage training in high school would allow me to
suddenly appear on everybody’s radar, yet be dismissed as having already been present since the beginning and simply hidden behind the living landmass.

“Now, this week’s club,” Page was saying. “Warren, it’s your turn to lead the group.” Warren jerked reflexively, and was about to protest when Page stopped him short. “Don’t bother to argue, I’m not in the mood. You know the schedule, everyone has to lead the book club at some point, and it’s your turn. I’ve got a copy of this week’s choice,
The Love Market
, in my office. It’s the new Munroe, and it will sell like gangbusters, so I want to promote it to the hilt. Pick it up before you leave today, and I expect you to have read it thoroughly before Wednesday night.”

“Could I switch with Heather?” Warren swung his chin toward a woman standing nearer the front. “She’s much better at that sort of thing. Besides, I don’t know anything about talking to those people.”

“I don’t mind, Page,” Heather chimed, clearly delighted at the prospect. “I
adore
the elderly.”

“Hey, it’s not old people that bother me, it’s . . .” Warren stopped himself.

Page drummed her fingers, clearly angered. “It’s what, Warren? It’s your turn, and I might add that I do not appreciate being argued with in front of the staff. But since you brought it up, what bothers you?” All heads turned toward us. I ducked a little more, smiling uneasily at nearby employees suddenly aware of my existence.

Warren sighed, a low, drawn-out gust. “It’s the books. You never have any books I want to talk about, you just have the latest Munroe.”

“Ah. And that’s a problem, is it?”

“Well —”

“You have a problem with having to do your job, and read what your customers are reading?” Page’s breath came out in plumes of frost. “Do you think you are somehow entitled to not fulfil the requirements of the job that everyone in the room abides by, including myself? If you don’t enjoy your time here, Mr. Krall, I suggest . . .”

“If I could just jump in here a minute,” interjected a voice. All
heads swivelled left. I could just make out the red octopus of Aubrey’s hair across the room. “I think what Warren is trying to say is that the store’s book club has appeared lately to concentrate solely on Munroe Purvis selections.”

Page audibly gritted her teeth. “I’m still waiting to hear the problem with that.”

“Well,
Page
,” said Aubrey, emphasizing her name in an exasperated drawl, “surely you haven’t forgotten that the point of the bookstore is to sell books.” A few snickers went up around the group, quickly transformed into coughs as Page shot them a look so cold it could sterilize. “Now, I’m just thinking out loud here, but it seems to me that using the book club to persuade people to purchase books that they are going to buy anyway might just be a lost opportunity.”

“The book club is a way to allow the community to meet and form a closer bond, both with each other and this store, Aubrey.”

“I get that, but shouldn’t we try to sell them something new as well?” Aubrey’s rational tone was akin to speaking to a child who couldn’t understand why the sky was blue. “What’s the point of inviting these people in, having them avail themselves of the free coffee and muffins, not to mention the employee man-hours that we put in, if not to sell them something? And it only makes solid economic sense to sell them something that they weren’t going to purchase anyway. In this way, you see, we may double our sales. It’s only obvious.”

“Yes, but we also want to keep our customers happy, Mr. Fehr.” You could almost see the thought-balloon above Page’s head, filled with scenes of unimaginable carnage. It was like watching a particularly gruesome fight, one of those cable television specials that are only available on pay-per-view because of the intense amount of bloodshed that was sure to occur. You couldn’t believe that it was happening, and that you were still watching. My first day, and already a public firing? I didn’t see how Aubrey could come through this altercation unscathed. “What makes our customers happy is Munroe publications. They want to discuss the books as if they’re on the show with him. In this way, they have the vicarious thrill of reading something recommended by someone they admire, and they feel closer to him. They are then contented,
and thus more likely to see
RED
as a place they can be comfortable in. I have made my decision, and you and Mr. Krall have not given me any reason to change my mind.” Page looked to her clipboard. “Now, last on the agenda . . .”