The game store clerk gripped the handle of the baseball bat she kept behind the counter. She'd only had to threaten to use it once before, but this might be her lucky day. The irate man leaned over the counter, huffing at her like a constipated dragon. He had an eternally youthful face but had never lost his baby fat. Age 18-35. Her favorite demographic
"I want to speak to the manager," he said, crossing his arms.
"I am the manager," she said, fingering the baseball bat. She wouldn't need it, yet. He'd have to get through the time-honored litany of slurs and insults first.
"I want to speak to the manager," he enunciated each word carefully like she hadn't heard him the first time.
"I am the manager," Leone said like she was speaking in slow motion.
He arched an eyebrow. "You're too young."
She resisted a grin. Young was a creative first choice. Most people went for woman first. The racist ones jumped straight to black. She said, "My sales associate—" who had undoubtedly passed off this asshole to her "—sent you to me because I'm the manager."
It's like the man hadn't even heard her. He said, "Oh, you mean for this shift. Just put him on the phone if he's not here."
"Who?" Leone asked, frowning.
"The owner," the man tapped the counter, "call him so I can talk to him."
Ah, there it was. The good, old-fashioned sexism. Leone fixed the man with her own unflappable gaze. "I own the place. I manage the place. Now how can I help you?"
She gagged out the last words. The man blinked, his forehead crinkling. His confusion over a young, black woman being in charge of the used game, movie, comics, and general nerd paraphernalia shop quenched his rage like ice water dumped on coals. She relaxed her grip on the baseball bat handle. Thank god for stupid bigotry.
He plopped a plastic bag on the counter with several DVDs in it. "I want to return these."
Leone frowned. That was a straight forward request. Why'd he get so worked up over it? Courtney knew how to do returns, too. She shouldn't have sent this dumbass to her over clarifying their basic return policy. Leone pulled the receipt out of the bag and frowned.
"Sir, you can't return these. We have a two-week return policy, and you bought these over a month ago," she said with a sigh. So this was why Courtney fielded this grade-A a-hole to her.
"It should be one month," he snapped. "Bookman's has one month."
She sighed. "We have two weeks. We can't take these back, but if you want to do a resale—"
"I want full price. They're scratched."
Leone resisted turning her 'how stupid do you think I am?' gaze on him. She popped open the cases and examined the claw marked DVDs. His cat had gotten to these. She said, "I can't rebuy these, sir."
He pounded on the counter, making Leone jump. "You sell shoddy merchandise. I want my money back."
Leone glared at him while her right hand reached for the handle of her bat. She said, "We didn't sell these in this condition. That's not the kind of business we do here—the kind of business I do here."
And you think you're going to pull a fast one on the little ladies, she thought, coming in here, trying to pass off this junk and abusing our return policy. Her fingertips grazed the bat. She didn't relish threatening people—not even this guy—but she wasn't about to let him cheat her. This was her business, and it ran on a narrow profit margin. This place was hers, and no arrogant asswipe would tell her how to run it.
He pointed a finger at her chest. Leone lifted the bat before he could speak. She didn't swing but brought it up between them. Softly, she said, "I played softball for six years. Try me."
He backed away, scowling. "I'm a big name reviewer on Yelp. I'll trash your shitty little store, bitch."
"Yeah? See if I care," Leone said, sinking into her batting stance. His mouth convulsed, but she glared at him, daring him to say another word about rating her store. She certainly had no points she wanted to elaborate with this asswipe. Every tense line of her body said exactly what she'd do next if he came near her. He snatched the plastic bag off the counter and rushed towards the door, knocking over two displays on the way out.
After the door banged shut, Leone cried out, "Asshole!"
She slammed the bat on the counter, releasing her pent-up rage in one mighty thump.
"Never thought he'd leave," Courtney said, stepping out of the backroom.
Leone pointed the bat at her. She said, "Where the hell were you? Why didn't you just send him out?"
Courtney gave a noncommittal shrug and walked over to the counter. "He asked for the manager, so I sent him to the manager."
Leone rolled her eyes. "You're so lazy. You could've told him to leave. You knew he was trying to jip us."
"Yeah, but I wanted to see if you'd kick his ass," Courtney said. She leaned across the counter in the exact spot the man had rested his elbows on moments before. "Did he call you the N-word? I thought he'd call you the N-word."
"No, he did not call me the N-word," Leone snapped. Courtney snapped her fingers and shook her head, her fluffy pigtails bouncing from side-to-side. Leone had the sudden urge to hit her with the baseball bat, but she stowed it back under the counter.
"Shani!" Courtney hollered. "Hey! Shani! We need to fix the Attack on Titan display!"
"You could fix it instead of having her do it for you," Leone hissed.
Courtney gave a half-shoulder shrug. "Yeah, but she likes it—"
"And you're allergic to work," Leone muttered. Courtney shot her a playfully hurt look.
"Hey now, that's racist."
Leone rolled her eyes and grabbed her water bottle. She'd been friends with Courtney—against her mom's and dad's fondest wishes—since elementary school. Courtney and her loved to play Sailor Moon together. She'd always played Sailor Mars, and Courtney usually liked to be Sailor Jupiter. They'd discovered D&D and video games together. They'd done their first cons together. They'd smoked pot for the first time together. To her personal, gut-wriggling shame, she'd considered Courtney as more of a real sister than her actual twin sister. When she opened her shop, Pulp Magic (Comics, Games, Books, and More), she hired Courtney that day. Not that Courtney had been a stellar employee, but she'd never get fired for smoking in the back of the store, a major job perk for her.
Leone had needed someone else, too. Someone who liked to put together the displays with an eye for detail. That's why she'd hired Shanice, who'd been her game master plenty of times. Shandice understood the rules and technicalities of a game like no one else Leone had ever met. She had felt bad for Shani, who was on the spectrum and had a tough time getting employed, but it put a wicked grin on her face to watch Shani talk some hapless nerd's ear off when they asked her a question.
Shani, tall and with her hair tied up in little knobs, strode over-enthusiastically from the backroom. Her arms swung like windmills, but she beelined for the fallen displays. She shook her head and bent down to gather up the spilled T-shirt rack.
"Stupid, stupid, stupid...Courtney said I could go out and get a smoothie," Shandi said, smacking her forehead. Leone reached down and grabbed her hand. Smart of Courtney, she thought, to send Shani off. She didn't do well with noise or when customers got upset.
"No, it's okay, everything's fine," Leone said. She patted Shani's arm, soothing her. "You'll still be the employee of the month."
Shani frowned up at her, the unmistakable light of hope in her eyes. Shani lived to be the employee of the month. Leone had given it to her every month for the last thirteen that the shop had been open.
"When's it my turn?" Courtney said, strolling over and gathering up the manga that had sprawled into the aisle.
"When you show up before 10."
Courtney snorted. "Shani can keep it."
Shani frowned at Courtney and said, "You could work harder, set multiple alarms. That's what my mom has my brother do...he hates getting up...beep, beep, beep...for hours...wakes me up every day, too."
She continued to mutter about her family while the three women worked on resetting the display. Shani had been adopted, and the Albertsons had two more foster kids. Leone had seen worse parents than the Albertsons, who had tried to help Shani even if they didn't always understand her. They loved her, which was what Leone thought mattered.
After the Attack on Titan display had been reset, Shani organized the rack of DVDs that had scattered across the floor like confetti. Leone hopped up on the stool at one of the gaming tables and opened the graphic novel she'd left off reading before that raging storm of idiocy blew into her shop. She sipped her water and let Shani alphabetize. It made her happy, and Leone felt drained. She hoped no one else would come in the rest of the day.
The bell above the door tinkled, and Leone suppressed a groan. She peered over the edge of the book and let out a mix between a groan and a sigh. It wasn't a customer, but it might be worse—it was her sister.
All the kids thought her and Lakeisha's life as twins must've been like Tia and Tamera from Sister, Sister. Leone had found herself feeling like the worst parts of both twins. They certainly hadn't shared any wacky adventures together. She was an anti-social nerd with a temper that fell hard for anime at a young age. She didn't pay attention in school, and no amount of her parents or teachers urgings to greatness had changed that. Her dad and mom were both exemplary role models—the best any black girl could've wanted. Her dad was the first African American dean at his university, and her mom was the first African American woman to make partner at a prestigious law firm. Lakeisha had their ambition but channeled it into art and writing. She was the top-ranked African American woman fencer in the USA and angling to make the Olympic team in two years. People liked Lakeisha. She was going places.
And you're running a hole-in-the-wall comic shop, Leone thought. She marked her place in the graphic novel and put the book down.
Lakeisha set the box of art supplies on the table. She flung her long, dreadlocks out of her face. Leone frowned at the cardboard box and asked, "What's that for?"
"You asked me to come by and paint a window display, remember?" Lakeisha rolled her eyes. "Smoked up already today, then."
Leone glared at her. She said, "Some asshole was in here trying to rip us off."
Lakeisha glanced above the counter where a set of katanas hung. They were knockoffs, but they looked cool. She snorted. "So you finally got to use your swords?"
"I have a bat," Leone said bluntly, "but no, I didn't smash his stupid face in."
Her twin shrugged. "I would've."
"Then he could've charged me for assault," Leone snapped.
"Mom would've gotten you out of it," Lakeisha said, setting out the cans of paint on the table. "She's secretly hoping someone pulls something on you—young, black entrepreneur woman attacked by idiot bigot."
Leone sighed and bit back a retort about how mom could get in here and face those assholes herself. A tingle of guilt pinged in her gut. Her mom faced down racism every day to do her job, to get where she was now. She could wrap someone around her finger with words and then metaphorically clobber them over the head with her intelligence. Leone had to resort to a baseball bat.
The bell ringed, and Maya breezed into the room. Leone thought Maya might be Lakeisha's only real friend, and only someone with Maya's patience could've tolerated her sister. Maya didn't treat Leone and her passions as jokes, either. Leone had convinced Maya to dress up as Disney princesses—Aurora, Elsa, Cinderella, and of course, Tiana—because the kids loved it when they did a monthly Saturday Kid's Corner. Leone had tried Cinderella one week and had to excuse herself when one kid told her Cinderella wasn't black. She'd wanted to smack the brat upside the head and tell her she could be whatever she damn well pleased. When a kid asked Maya the same question, she'd laughed and said that she was Cinderella's sister and that Cinderella had all kinds of sisters of all different sizes and colors over the world—the kid just hadn't met them all.
It was a clever answer. Leone wished she'd thought of it, but Maya made Kid's Corner infinitely more popular because...well, she was good with kids. She planned to apply for Teach for America or the Fulbright and was on a fancy scholarship, running an ungodly number of clubs at the university. Leone's parents approved of Maya. You'd practically have to be in the KKK not to, Leone thought.
"My friend's moving to Japan and getting rid of her stuff," Maya said, setting a bag of books on the counter. "I said you'd buy them from her., giving her some spare money, too."
Leone left Lakeisha to mix her paints and went to examine Maya's merchandise. She'd brought in at least a fifty books in the first box--mostly hardcovers. Leone pulled a stack out and examined them. She said, "They're in great shape. Let me make sure we don't have too many copies of anything, but yeah, I'll take most of them."
"There are another two boxes in the car," Maya said, biting her lip apologetically. Leone cast her gaze to the ceiling and shrugged. She helped Maya carry them in and spread them out. She couldn't take the most popular series because they had those stocked already, but she bought over a hundred books.
Shani rushed over, eager to alphabetize the new finds. Shani's eyes lit up. "Tamera Pierce...I like her...always can use more Discworld...can I buy The Red Queen?"
"You can read it here and not have to buy it," Leone said, opening the cash register. "It's an employee perk."
Shani held up the book and pulled it to her chest. She said, "But I want to buy it...I want it to be mine."
"Sure, half price discount for employees," Leone muttered. She pulled out the calculator and entered the long, tedious string of numbers. She swore when she messed up adding and had to start over.
After she finished, she handed a pile of cash and a tally of what she bought to Maya. Leone said, "Thank your friend for restocking my shelves."
Maya smiled—all little straight, white teeth. She said, "It's you who helped—"
Leone's mouth gaped open when a man appeared mid-air in her shop. He fell from the ceiling—no, through the ceiling—and crashed down on Leone's displays. Lakeisha shrieked, streaking the window with an aberrant green zigzag. Shani dropped her handful of books, and Courtney sprinted out of the backroom. The shelves broke his fall, and he rolled off them, splaying on the ground.
Leone swore. "I just fixed those!"
(Note: This book is available on Amazon! I decided to self-pub this as a series, but I'll add updates and previews and other tid bits about this story to this page. Thanks to all of my early readers that have read and commented.
Here's the post from my launch day! Yay!