Night Shift (Book 1, the Night Shift series)

Chapter Seven

By the time he passed the key back to Mr. Oliver, Daniel had cleared his head somewhat. Monique was proving to be a constant source of ego inflation for him.

Mr. Oliver grumbled something and handed over the flashlight. "Be back in an hour," he ordered.

Daniel ran up the steps to Ladies' Fashions. After several rounds of searching under the counters of every cashier's station, he was convinced the notebook was gone for good. Dragging his feet up the grand staircase to the second-floor landing, he crossed into Home Furnishings, and began searching all the cashier stations on this floor. He was momentarily distracted by a massive TV and leather recliners set up as a home theatre. A remote control was balanced on the armrest of an overstuffed couch, and he wondered how many channels the store got.

With a sulk, he looked at the remote longingly, then crouched down to look for his notebook behind the counter.

Muted conversation floated toward him. Daniel realized he'd forgotten to ask Mr. Oliver how many other night-shift workers there were besides the girl he'd met last night. Wondering if it was her, he suddenly felt self-conscious of his scruffy hair and nerdy uniform. Daniel stayed hidden and peeked over the counter.

The girl was pretty with blond curly hair. She was walking up the aisle and reading a book at the same time. A guy in jeans and a T-shirt was keeping in step with her. Definitely his age, Daniel thought, or maybe a year or two older. They came closer and entered the home theatre.

"I can't believe Oscar agreed to meet this Daniel person," the girl said, her attention still on the book in her hands.

The guy rolled his eyes. "Oscar's humouring her. She's so desperate she's invented this Romeo to come save her. You heard her last night. You'd think friggin' Prince Charming dropped in for a visit."

"Worried about a little competition?" she teased.

He flopped on the leather couch and folded his hands behind his head. "Hardly," he said, flashing a confident smile. "Besides, he doesn't exist, so what does it matter?"

Daniel ducked back down. Were they talking about the girl who rescued him last night? He guessed they must be the other inventory staff she'd mentioned. But why the hell would they think he didn't exist? And who was Oscar?

He peeked over the counter again and saw the girl move the remote to the leather ottoman, just out of the guy's reach. "It would be exciting, though," she said, almost hesitant.

"Exciting is not the word I'd use," he said. There was something in his voice that put Daniel on edge. The girl opened the book again, but Daniel could tell she was only staring blankly, pretending to read.

The silence stretched like an elastic band, growing taut, straining the air between them. Daniel was trapped, certain even the slightest movement in his new squeaky shoes would give him away. He looked to his left and calculated whether it was possible to sneak behind the overstuffed chair, and then eventually escape to the aisle. He'd need one hell of a distraction.

The girl plopped down beside the guy, her lips making a tight, straight line. Daniel squirmed in the shadows, sensing an argument.

The guy leaned forward with a playful look upon his face, "All right," he said in a gruff accent. "You're gonna need a bigger boat."

She replied by turning a page.

The guy tried again. "If you're good at something, never do it for free."

Daniel frowned. He'd seen The Dark Knight four times, but quoting movie lines was the last thing he'd do to impress a girl. Then he wondered, When do they do any work?

The girl snapped the book shut so quickly it made both Daniel and the guy jump at the same time. "Don't you get it?" she accused. "This might be what we've been waiting for, and all you can do is joke and talk about stupid movies."

The guy held his palms up as if surrendering. "Babe, I wish it was true."

"Sometimes I think you'd rather everything stay the way it's always been."

The guy was quiet, his Adam's apple moving up and down a few times. "And you wouldn't?" he asked, sounding hurt.

Daniel's stomach flipped. He was stuck in his extra-squeaky shoes, crouched behind a counter, wishing he'd stood up when they first came over.

The couple slouched into the leather furniture, both looking defeated. She was the one who broke the silence. "What do you want?" she asked.

He reached for her and she drew close, tucking into his chest. His fingers played with a golden curl. The guy closed his eyes and Daniel could tell he was fighting the answer. "I want whatever you want," he said.

She looked up at him, beaming with hope. "Jaws," she smiled, "and The Dark Knight."

He laughed weakly, and then leaned down and kissed her. Daniel was unable to turn away.

No way, he thought as the making out intensified, and a T-shirt got pulled off. There's no way they're really going to...actually. The voyeuristic curiosity was overriding the guilt. They didn't break apart, and the promise of a home theatre with a million movie channels became a distant idea as Daniel realized the real show was about to start right in front of him.

He looked down at the toe of his new Tom Fords. Hello, pervert, they shone back up.

There was a muffled giggle followed by a moan. Daniel looked to his left; if he needed a distraction, this was his best opportunity. He crawled forward, wincing with every squeak of his shoe, expecting the boyfriend to pick him up by the back of the hair, ready to beat the crap out of him.

With the ninja-like ability of someone desperate to stay hidden, Daniel managed to navigate the home theatre by using the extra-large furniture as cover. Safely out of earshot of the lovers, he ran into the elevator. His heart was pounding like a bass drum. He punched the three button, and wiped a hand over his face. He caught his breath as he closed the gate and replayed the scene with new bitterness.

At one time he'd been on his way to becoming the most popular guy in school. Now he was homeless and getting his thrills from watching a couple of strangers go at it. A familiar detached emptiness came over him; he was going into zombie-mode. No wonder he was perfect for night shift at Willard's, he thought dully; he was a ghost most of the time anyway.

The golden arrow pointed at the three. Daniel walked into the dimly lit Toy Department. His hand automatically touched the flashlight dangling from his belt. Brightly coloured kites hung from the sky-blue ceiling, painted with clouds. There was even a whole area devoted to board games, with the floor painted like Scrabble.

A permanent, electric race car track weaved throughout the department. Daniel felt like a kid again, and he wondered if there was a train set on display. He closed his eyes and heard his mother's voice from his dream. "The world is full of magic and beautiful things," he whispered.

He turned the corner, and came to a complete stop. At the other end of the room, beside a Star Wars Lego display, was a child-sized, candy-apple-red convertible. A prickly sensation ran down his spine. He pulled out the Magic 8 Ball keychain. "Are there ghosts inside Willard's?"

Don't count on it.

Daniel pressed his palm on the hood—it was warm. In a heartbeat the whole department went black. He reached down, but his fingers only felt an empty loop where the flashlight had been.