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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO XXII. the plot thickens [ season 3, episode 1 ]
When Veronica said the record-store opposite Scoops Ahoy was severely understaffed, Steph jumped at the opportunity of potentially landing a job there. It was the Summer term, after all. She needed something to fill the blank spaces in her schedule. A way to make money for the upcoming plans.
The moment she applied, the manager ── his name was Mick and a permanent aroma of cats treaded after him everywhere ── hired her immediately. No interview. No trial shift. No questions. Boom; Steph's name was slapped onto the rota and a wad of cash was slammed into her palm.
At first she imagined it would be a little better than stacking records all day, or filing them in the correct order.
Unfortunately, she had been wrong.
Very wrong.
A rock song hummed softly in the background of the store, drowned out mostly by the racket of the surrounding Starcourt chaos. Steph's eyes flicked to the clock on the wall, positioned directly above the counter. It had been just over an hour since she had started her afternoon shift, yet it felt as though she'd been standing there ── of course, stacking records ── for days. Weeks. Months, even. Her eyelids burned, and she was on the edge of collapsing on the spot from a mixture of fatigue and boredom.
Mick, her manager, had fallen asleep at the counter. No surprises there.
He was lazy. Very much so. The only reason he hired Steph without interview or question was because he needed someone to do the jobs he wasn't willing to do, or couldn't be bothered to do, as soon as possible. The summer meant more people flocking to the mall, which inevitably meant more customers, more people badgering the staff for specific records, more things to do, more things to order in, and more days spent catching up on work that shouldn't have been left until last minute.
Hence, Stephanie's arrival.
She worked afternoon shifts to get everything stocked, filed, stacked and ready for the next day. Mick didn't have to do anything at all; he slept and complained and that was about it.
To make up for her bad recommendation, Veronica promised she would bring her a cookie dough ice-cream at lunch. But that damned clock just seemed to be getting slower and slower.
Stephanie grumbled a string of profanities under her breath as she shoved the next record into the cabinet with a little more vigour than required. From the corner of her eye, she shot a snoring Mick a very disgusted look.
Asshat. How does he get to sleep while she did all of the work?
She deeply wished she could be absolutely anywhere else in the world. The Bahamas. Portugal. Iceland ── for the experience, not the lack of heat. Even England. Anywhere but the record store.
