Chasing Shadows Read Online Free PDF

my God, when have I seen one straight on before? Ever? There is
a tap on my shoulder. I turn but, surprise, no one there. With a
nervous sigh I go back to my task. What else should I do? They’ve
never appeared at work before. It must be stress. I know I’m crazy,
but this is getting out of hand isn’t it?
    “Jesus.” I mumble.
    “He’s not here.” Ashley sneers, surprising me.
“We keep him and all his other crazy friends by the elevator. You
should know that.”
    I stiffen. “I thought you were done with
me.” I say, trying and failing to keep the resentment out of my
voice.
    Ashley hooks her thumbs into her belt loops and
places a delicately shod foot on my cart. How can she wear heels
like that? “You’re such a cow.” She says quietly. “You didn’t even
know Cassandra’s name two days ago, and now she’s your
replace-a-friend? I hope she likes keeping track of all of your
shit for nothing. Not even a thank you. Honestly,” Ashley looks
over her shoulder. “I don’t think she’s up to it. She’s too tiny to
hold you together, and too smart not to see through your bullshit.
I wish I had been.”
    “Look.” I say. “I told you I’m sorry. I took
you for granted. I’m a shit. I know it, so forgive me or fuck off.”
I hold my breath. Was that too strong?
    Ashley’s face is frozen in a sick looking
smile. With a graceful little leg stretch she knocks my cart over,
spilling books, magazines and sideline merchandise on the floor.
Now she turns on her heel and sashays towards the
escalators.
    That’s right, I think, I’m selfish and
juvenile. Poor, poor you for putting up with me all this time...
Cunt bag. I calmly finish my book shifting before tackling the
spilled cart. I’m just starting to stack the books back up, when I
can hear Allen approaching from the children’s section. Allen is
the supervisor. Everyone calls him Super Al behind his back, but
from what I know he’s pretty cool for a boss. He’s wearing pleated
gray pants with a thin black belt that bands across his spherical
mid section like the metal rings on a wooden barrel, or twine
around a hay bale... You get the idea.
    He stops when he gets to my row. “Tipped the
cart huh?” Super Al makes super observations. I know from watching
other people that I’m supposed to laugh here. Like observations
alone count for observational humor. I chuckle obligingly. “Gotta
be careful though.” Says Super Al. “We’re in line for the safety
bonus again, so don’t you be the one who blows it.”
    “Yes Sir.” I say with what I hope is a sweet,
friendly, sane smile.
    “I’ve told you Meegan, Call me Allen. Sir is my
father.”
    How old do you have to be before you must
relinquish the use of that line? Another polite laugh seems
required here. “How about Super Al?” I ask. Oh shit, shit poo. Did
I just say that out loud? Allen looks quizzical. I feel I should
explain. “Cause you’re the supervisor?” I say softly, while batting
my eyelashes.
    There is a pause, during which I am sure the
fate of my job is being decided, before Allen bursts out laughing.
It’s a big rolling Santa Claus laugh that suits his figure. “That’s
great.” he says. “Or should I say, that’s super.” Super Al winks
and continues on his round.
    I groan inwardly. He is such a dad, I think,
but then I stop myself. How would I know really?
    ***
    Its 7:06 in the morning. I and seven
co-workers, Super Al included, wait at the door like kids at a
concert. We hold our bags open, one at a time, for the day shift
manager to riffle through. If you bring any books, movies or CDs to
work, it would behoove you to have your receipt taped to the front
of them, no matter where you bought them. I tape all my receipts to
the inside, front cover. I smile remembering my last purchase, and
how much evil joy I took in buying seven different books on seven
separate transactions, and then taping the receipts in right there,
with the cashier’s tape. That day shifter