Speedy Rewards

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Phil

“WHAT. A. Day. From. Hell.” Phil leaned against the podium-like computer stand located just outside his office as his assistant manager, Judy, approached.

“Holy f*****g s**t, what happened outside? Looks like a goddamn tsunami passed through.”

“Hurricane Coca-Cola,” Phil said. “Early this morning a delivery truck barreled into the parking lot to avoid hitting Ezra. Drove straight onto the curb, over the shrubs, and ended up stuck between the girders of our pricing sign. Had to call a tow truck, and by the time they got the thing un-stuck, they’d completely destroyed the landscaping.”

“Shit.” Judy walked behind him into the office and placed her purse on the counter. “What’d Mark say? You did call him, didn’t you?”

Phil took a step back and leaned against the door jam, peering into the office in order to continue the conversation. “You know what he’s like. Whenever there’s a crisis of any kind, he’s nowhere to be found. Remember last year when that bad storm hit and we had only partial power for six days? He never even stopped by to check on us or to help in any way. When I called him this morning he acted pissed, like he was annoyed that I’d bothered him.”

“Well, I’m not complaining,” Judy said. She reached inside her purse to pull out a pack of Winston Lights. “I’d be happy if he never showed up. He’s a f*****g pompous windbag who looks down his nose at his own employees.”

Phil nodded. “He sometimes comes across as a little arrogant.”

“That’s like saying the pope comes across as a little Catholic. Come on, you look like you need a cigarette. Let’s go smoke.”

“Trying to quit.”

Judy laughed. “That’ll be the day.”

Phil sighed. “You’re right. Today’s not a good day to quit smoking.” He moved away from the door to allow her passage, then followed her out of the building. They walked around to the side, out of customer view, before they lit up.

“Poor Ezra, I bet he must’ve been really shook up.” Judy took a drag off her cigarette, then coughed. Her smoker’s hack was getting worse, and Phil wondered if she’d ever be able to quit.

“Yeah. Poor kid about s**t himself. He was trying to pull out onto the highway when his car stalled. I guess there’s something wrong with it, but one of the customers is gonna get it fixed for him. You know Jeremy, that security guard who comes in here? Big tall guy with bulging muscles.”

Judy waved a hand in front of her face. “Sure, I know Jeremy. Everyone does. He’s the drug dealer.”

Phil raised his eyebrows. “Don’t tell me that s**t. I don’t want to know.”

She shrugged. “It’s true. Nice enough guy, but I hope he don’t end up behind bars.”

“Well,” Phil said, “that would explain why he’s such a close friend to Doreen. She all but r***s him every time he comes in the store.”

Judy laughed, then took another drag from her smoke. “Doreen does that to all the guys, at least the ones she thinks she can get to go home with her.”

“To her dungeon.”

“Does she really have a dungeon, you think?” Judy shook her head.

“She lives with her dad and son, so I’m guessing no.”

“She lives with her dad, son, and her transvestite boyfriend,” Judy clarified.

Phil grinned. “Not exactly. Kaye is transgender, not a transvestite. There’s a big difference. And I think technically Kaye would be her girlfriend, not her boyfriend.”

“He has a f*****g d**k!” Judy said, oblivious to the fact she was shouting. “That ain’t no lady if he’s got a dick.”

“She’s pre-op, but she identifies as a girl.”

“Look, I don’t care what he... or she... is. I don’t care what she calls herself, neither. You know I ain’t prejudiced. It’s just a little confusing. Back when I lived out in San Diego, I knew a bunch of he-shes. Trannies, we called em. Chicks with d***s. Living on the street, you meet all kinds. Some were the nicest people.”

“Well, I’d suggest you avoid any of those nicknames. I think nowadays they’re offensive.”

“Well, I ain’t politically correct.” She placed a hand on one hip and released a stream of cigarette smoke into the air.

“I better get back to work,” Phil said, crushing out his cigarette on the bottom of his shoe. He’d toss it in the trash bin on the way back inside rather than littering.

“Boss, it’s time for you to go home,” Judy said. “Christ, you’ve been here since what? Five o’clock this morning?”

“Five thirty, and I still haven’t had time to get into the cooler. I was waiting for you to get here.”

“Why don’t you just go home? You look exhausted. I’ll send one of the CSRs in to do the cooler.”

Phil shook his head. “You’ve got Wayne and Erin tonight, and neither one of them really knows how to do cooler.”

“Oh fuck.” Judy rolled her eyes in protest.

“I thought you liked Wayne.”

“I love Wayne, but with him there’s so much drama.”

As Judy took the last drag from her cigarette, Phil headed back around the corner toward the front of the building. Judy followed. When he got to the edge of the sidewalk he stopped to toss his butt into the waste bin but heard something strange over the outdoor loudspeaker. He held his hand up, motioning for Judy to stop. Wayne was using the P.A. system to address one of the customers at the pump. Phil looked to see whom he was talking to. A twenty-something, rather buff athletic guy stood beside his sports car at pump six.

“Honey, hold onto that nozzle of yours while you’re pumping!” Wayne’s singsong voice echoed from the loudspeaker beneath the canopy. “Or if you’d like, I can come out there and hold it for you... so you don’t spray all over the place.”

Phil, horrified, turned to look at Judy who stood directly behind him, laughing. She cracked up so loudly she nearly doubled over. “You go girl!” she screamed.

Phil rushed down the sidewalk toward the store’s entrance, glancing one last time toward the pumps to see what other customers were on the lot. When he flung the door open and stormed inside, Wayne stood at the counter, holding the microphone in his hand like a stage performer and appeared poised to continue with his routine.

“Wayne!” Phil shouted. “What the hell are you doing?”

Erin, the other cashier, stood a few feet away with a s**t-eating grin on her face. She began to giggle. Wayne, however, looked up at Phil, his expression insipid. “I’m talking to a customer,” he stated in the calmest of tones.

“Are you trying to get us all fired?” Phil said, moving quickly toward him. “Do you know what’ll happen if someone complains to corporate?”

Wayne waved his hand dismissively, flipping his wrist in the process. “Oh, that’s my friend Freddy. He’s a body builder I originally met at the gym, and he’s one of my biggest fans. He comes to all my drag shows.” Wayne made no attempt to deny his identity as a drag queen.

Phil approached the counter, leaning in to lower his voice. “Wayne, please, I’m begging you. Can you please, please try to at least be a teenie, tiny bit discreet?” He held up his thumb and forefinger to signify a small measurement. “I know it’s hard, but....”

Indignant, Wayne straightened his posture and then twitched his chin while flicking his hair back in the process. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were just a tad homophobic,” Wayne said, his voice shrill with emotion.

“Wayne Baxter, you watch your mouth!” Phil turned to see Judy right behind him. With arm extended, she pointed an accusing finger toward Wayne. “You know that’s not true. Phil don’t have a prejudiced bone in his body. He’s just trying to keep you from getting your ass fired.”

“The customers like it when I joke around with them,” Wayne said in a much lower, more timid voice.

“I know, Wayne,” Phil said. “I didn’t mean to... um... you know I support... uh....”

“What he’s trying to say,” Judy interrupted, “is he’s cool with you being gay and doing drag and all that. But you can’t get on the f*****g loudspeaker and say vulgar things!”

“Speaking of vulgar,” Phil said. “Language!”

Judy rolled her eyes.

“But yeah, she’s right.” Phil stepped around the counter so that he stood right beside Wayne. “You should know I’m not a homophobe. And what you said... well, it was kinda funny, but....”

Wayne smiled. “I know. Sometimes I even c***k myself up.”

Phil couldn’t help but return the smile. He took a deep breath, then looked over at Judy and then Erin. “So please, when you get the urge to joke around with a customer, think about it carefully before going onto the loudspeaker. Okay?”

“Sure,” Wayne said, nodding.

“I gotta get in that cooler or I’m gonna be here all night.”

“Do you want some help?” Wayne said.

“That’s a good idea,” Judy said. “Erin and I can handle the register. Why don’t you help Phil? He can train you how to do it.”

Phil began to open his mouth to refuse the offer then thought about it. “Sure.” He gave Wayne a resolute nod. “That’d be great. You might wanna grab one of the jackets. It’s pretty cold in there.”

“Oh, I just love doing butch things,” Wayne bounced on the balls of his feet excitedly, rubbing his hands together.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

AT TIMES, people pleasantly surprised Phil. He’d have never expected someone like Wayne to be such a hard worker, well, at least not when it came to manual labor. But between the two of them, Wayne and Phil, they’d banged out a two- to three-hour job in just one hour. On delivery days like today, the cooler was so full you could barely more around, but they’d worked as a team, filling and restacking product. Stocking was as much about organization as it was about actually filling the shelves.

Shortly past five p.m., Phil crawled back into his vehicle and headed home, at last capable of putting a challenging day behind him. He felt good leaving his store in his assistant manager’s capable hands. Judy came across as rough around the edges, but that was only because she’d had a difficult life. She’d been through hell and back, and few people, given the obstacles she’d faced, would’ve been tough enough to emerge from such tragedy intact.

Judy was a fighter, and Phil had known her a long time. He’d originally hired her back when he worked at the supermarket. After the store closed, they both found themselves unemployed. Phil got his degree and acquired his position as manager at Speedy Mart then offered Judy another job. She started out as a cashier, but within a few months accepted promotion to assistant manager, just as Phil had expected.

Although he now knew as much about Judy as she allowed anyone to know, she hadn’t immediately opened up to him. He’d learned her history over time. He’d discovered that at one time she’d worked as a quality control supervisor for a large manufacturing company in California. She was collecting a salary of nearly six figures back then, up until she became pregnant.

Judy’s husband abused her. Not only did he physically assault her, but he also brow beat her, using gaslighting techniques and emotional manipulation. Though successful at her job, her home life became a prison. After the baby was born, she began drinking and popping pills. Prescription medications.

One day she came home to an empty house. Her husband and son were gone, no explanation as to where they’d disappeared. There was, however, a note explaining why they’d left. Her husband accused her of being an alcoholic, drug addict, and unfit mother. He threatened that she’d never see her son again, and if she tried to fight him for custody, she’d lose.

Terrified, she set out to find her child. She reported her son missing and gave the police a copy of the note. And she searched everywhere she could think to look. But she had to keep her job, which meant going to work every day. Finally, a process server appeared one day at her office with a subpoena. Her husband was filing for divorce and suing for full custody of their child.

Even with the best lawyer she could afford, she discovered she was screwed. Her husband’s attorney came prepared and presented to the judge evidence portraying her husband as a model parent. Contrarily, he painted Judy as an abusive, neglectful mother addicted to narcotics and alcohol. And he pointed out the child had not even had contact with his mother for almost a year.

Supposedly in the best interest of the child, the judge granted full custody to Judy’s ex-husband. Devastated, she began to spiral out of control. The accusations became a self-fulfilling prophecy, and she not only further abused the prescriptions but also turned to more illicit street drugs. Over the course of the next year, she allowed her life to completely crumble. She lost her job and then her home. Eventually she no longer even had a place to live. At first she slept on the couches of friends and former coworkers—until she wore out her welcome.

She found herself living on the streets, too ashamed to reach out to her family for help. They all lived back in Michigan and had no idea the gravity of her situation, the dark chasm into which she’d fallen.

Judy didn’t begin rebuilding her life until she was in her mid-forties. The death of her father brought her back to Michigan. She’d called her mother from a pay phone as she did about once month, only to learn her dad was dying. Her mom sent her an airline ticket, and she traveled home. She never returned to California.

At the time Phil hired Judy, she was just getting herself back on her feet. She’d met and fallen in love with a man she believed shared many of her experiences. Artie too had been homeless for a period. His jet-black skin tone shocked the sensibilities of her ultra-conservative, pure-white family, and she considered that an added bonus.

The relationship didn’t last, though. Judy soon learned things about Artie that disturbed her, and when she caught him sexually molesting his own granddaughter, Judy called the authorities herself. She had to testify against him and send the man she thought she loved to prison.

Phil had been there with Judy as it all unfolded. When the police came to haul Artie off to jail, she had nowhere to turn. She couldn’t face her family, and so she called Phil. He took her in, allowing her to live with him and Darren for a while till she got back on her feet. She slept on their couch until she was able to get a place of her own.

So he knew his assistant manager quite well. Judy was much more than just an employee to Phil. She felt like family, perhaps an older sister. And when it came to his s****l orientation, she’d always been his biggest cheerleader and defender. Even back when they worked together at the supermarket, she made it abundantly clear to him how strongly she advocated for gay rights and marriage equality.

Unfortunately, Phil’s boss did not share Phil’s level of confidence in Judy’s abilities. Mark had allowed Phil to promote her to lead assistant, but only because at the time he’d had so much confidence in Phil. He made it clear, however, that he didn’t like Judy. She was too outspoken, too crass. She lacked professionalism and cast a negative pall on the company. Not the type of person you’d want to represent their business, Mark had said.

And lately, Mark had become increasingly more critical, not just of Judy but also of Phil. All of Phil’s qualities that Mark originally seemed to respect now seemed to annoy him. And when he visited the store, he made it clear he didn’t care for any of the members of Phil’s staff. He told Phil repeatedly he needed to be more selective and had to work on becoming a “better judge of character”. Unfortunately, it was more than just character Mark was judging. He seemed to judge people based upon whether or not they fit inside his comfort zone.

Judy, Doreen, Ezra, Wayne, and most of the members of Phil’s team didn’t fit inside this zone. Not only did they exist outside the zone, they were far, far from its borders and headed in the opposite direction. Phil smiled to himself as he pulled into his driveway. That was exactly why he loved his employees so much. They were all so unique, so interesting. So atypical. They were anything but conservative cutouts.

He reached for his door handle after killing the engine only to realize his ringtone was sounding. He picked up the cell phone from the passenger seat and stared disbelievingly at the screen. “Darren?” he whispered to himself.

He hadn’t heard from him since he left for Chicago. In fact, he’d debated several times with himself about deleting Darren’s number from his contact list, but he hadn’t yet been able to bring himself to do it. He should just send the call to voicemail and then delete the message without listening.

He took a deep breath and shook his head, then pressed a button on his phone.

“Hi stranger,” he said, struggling to sound cheerful.

“Hey.”

A piece of Phil’s heart broke off at the sound of his voice. How could he still miss him after all this time, after what Darren had done to him?

“How are you? It’s so good to, um, hear your voice.”

“I’m okay,” Darren said. He didn’t sound convincing. “Well, actually, I have to ask you something.”

“Sure.” Phil stared straight ahead out the windshield, unable to actually focus on anything. He’d allowed his ex-lover’s call to transport him elsewhere, and he envisioned Darren with his mind’s eye. “What’s wrong? Is everything okay there... do you need to...?”

“I need to ask a favor,” Darren said.

“Anything.”

“My car is in the garage.” The Ford Escort Phil had signed over to him. The one Phil had bought and then given to Darren. The one he drove to Chicago to be with his new boyfriend. His new fiancé. “I need six hundred bucks. I wondered—I mean, if you can’t do it, I totally understand—but I just wondered if you could, um, loan me the money, and I swear I’ll pay you back. I’ll send you fifty bucks every week until it’s paid off.”

Why had he allowed himself to hope, even for that split second? Phil had actually been so foolish to have imagined Darren was about to ask him if he could come home. He closed his eyes as a hot tear stung his cheek. “Um, yeah. Sure, no problem. I know you’re good for it.”

“Oh man, you don’t know how much this means to me,” Darren said, heaving a sigh of relief. “I’d never ask, but I really didn’t have anyone else to ask.”

What about your boyfriend?

“I understand. But look, I’m just getting home from work. I’m not even inside yet. Give me a half hour or so, and I’ll Western Union you the money. I think I can do it right from the computer.”

“Oh that’d be awesome. And there’s no rush... well, actually there is, but, um, a half hour is perfect. I can pick the money up from the store right down the street. They have a Western Union terminal.”

“Great. Okay, I’ll call or text or something when it’s ready.”

“Perfect. Hey, thanks man. Thanks so much.”

“No problem.” He closed the call before Darren could spew any more false gratitude.

Phil dragged himself from the car and made his way into his empty home. He closed the door behind him and stumbled down the hall, straight to the bathroom. He didn’t look up at his reflection in the vanity mirror but instead turned toward the shower. He just wanted to wash the day away, cleanse himself of the stress. He turned on the water and kicked off his shoes then peeled down his pants and reached up to unbutton his shirt. As he did so, he discovered he’d left something in his shirt pocket. He pulled it out and examined it. The business card Humberto had given him.

“Maybe it’s time,” he whispered. He looked up to make eye contact with himself in the mirror, his big brown irises watery with emotion. “Maybe it’s time to move the f**k on.”