by Audrey Forrest
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\nIt wasn\u2019t really a \u201cdowntown\u201d or even a city as it liked to pretend.\u00a0 It was some urban architect\u2019s idea of how to disguise a shopping mall and make it look like some charming and quaint village\u2014something you\u2019d see on the back lot tram tour of a Hollywood studio or Disney theme park.<\/p>\n
It\u2019s all in the details<\/em>.\u00a0 That was Darby Whitehead\u2019s mantra, the managing partner of Stocker Park Village.\u00a0 That\u2019s why he insisted on hanging fifties-style Christmas lights in neat rows that ran parallel over the tops of the make believe streets\u2014streets with small town names like Main Street, Front Street and Market Street.\u00a0 According to Darby Whitehead, the reason why throngs of upper middle class patrons flocked to Stocker Park was what it did not have\u2014homeless people, panhandlers, abandoned storefronts, and, the reason he gave to the public, expensive parking.<\/p>\n That\u2019s why Darby was skeptical of hiring temporary workers even during the busiest season.\u00a0 The temp company representative, however, had managed to convince him that Ready Man screened and hired the most reliable, neat, and honest workers to man all of those extra odd jobs that the holiday season required.\u00a0 Darby made Ready Man agree in writing that he would have full authority to dismiss any temp worker\u2014with no questions asked and no repercussions against Stocker Park.<\/p>\n For Joe Torres, the job at Ready Man was another temporary job that required him to take two busses and then walk half a mile every day from the middle of October until the job ended in February.\u00a0 But it was better than the last temp job where he was made to hold a placard on street corners, advertising going out of business sales.\u00a0 Cars would honk, passengers would point at him and sometimes laugh while Joe, wearing a caveman\u2019s costume, stood holding a sign that read \u201cOUR PRICES CAN\u2019T BE BEAT.\u201d\u00a0 Once a car load of teenagers driving a brand new Acura tossed a fast food bag at him containing half eaten fries and burgers.\u00a0 Joe was so hungry that day he had to fight back his urge to pick up the bag and eat the remaining contents.<\/p>\n Joe walked proudly toward Stocker Park Village, the site of his new job.\u00a0\u00a0 As he entered Stocker Park, passing under the ornate stone and wrought iron gates, he looked above and admired the perfect rows of bright Christmas lights that he\u2019d hung yesterday.\u00a0 The all white, slightly obese, and thoroughly highlighted forty-something clientele, outfitted in designer jeans and cashmere overcoats, wouldn\u2019t laugh at that.<\/p>\n It would be a stretch to buy Christmas presents for his wife and new baby boy this year, Joe thought as he checked the bulletin board in the temp office in the back lot for his daily assignment.\u00a0 But Joe wasn\u2019t complaining.\u00a0 Jobs didn\u2019t grow on trees, even the opulently fake ones that lined the walks at Stocker Park Village.\u00a0 Mercifully, it was mostly inside jobs today, setting up displays and hauling deliveries to the mega bookstore known as Whitehalls.\u00a0 That was a relief; Joe\u2019s arms still ached from hanging and then re-hanging all those Christmas lights yesterday to exact specifications in the ice cold wind.<\/p>\n Joe pushed a rolling rack of folding chairs out of the storage room at Whitehalls as his thoughts drifted to his wife, Lydia, and their new baby boy.\u00a0 It\u2019s worth it<\/em>, thought Joe.\u00a0 This year Joey Jr., or \u201cmi cielo\u201d as Lydia adoringly called him, would be three years old and ready to play with real toys.\u00a0 Joe had his eye on a big yellow construction truck he had seen earlier that morning at Clay\u2019s Discount Drug Store where the bus stopped.\u00a0 Today was payday and with all of the holiday overtime, Joe would have enough for the toy truck and a heart shaped locket for his wife that he had spotted in the jewelry section of the drugstore. \u00a0Lydia will love that<\/em>, thought Joe with a faraway smile.\u00a0 She can put Joey\u2019s picture in the locket and keep him close to her even while she is working the night shift at the nursing home.<\/em> \u201cEighteen chairs set out today?\u00a0 That\u2019s it?\u201d he asked aloud.<\/p>\n Traci Classer, the Stocker Park Events Manager, surveyed the small group of folding chairs that Joe had carefully placed in the caf\u00e9 section at Whitehalls, three neat rows of six a piece.\u00a0 The card table in front of the chairs displayed a poster size picture of Bing Collier\u2019s book and about two dozen new copies of The<\/em> Memoirs of\u00a0 a TV Game Show Celebrity\u2026 Bada Bing!<\/em><\/p>\n Bing rolled the last drops of a tepid cup of Mocha Java between his teeth as he tried, but failed, to hide a disgusted glare at the rows of empty chairs.\u00a0 Frankly, it was embarrassing to have to sit near the back of the store for two hours on a Saturday afternoon behind a card table and portable microphone trying to peddle your own biography.<\/p>\n Damn <\/em>, Bing thought.\u00a0 If that bitch hadn\u2019t cleaned me out in that last divorce, I\u2019d be teeing off on the back nine instead of driving cross-country to suburban shopping centers and staying at the deluxe suite in the Holiday Inn. <\/em> Bing\u2019s cell phone interrupted his thoughts with the theme song from I\u2019ve Got Your Number<\/em>\u2014an old game show starring Bing.<\/p>\n \u201cYeah, babe,\u201d Bing grunted into his cell phone.\u00a0 \u201cYeah, okay, okay, I\u2019ll pick it up for the little bugger.\u00a0 Look, I\u2019m onstage in two\u2026 later.\u201d<\/p>\n Bing slapped the lid down on the cell phone and tossed it into the front pocket of his navy blue Italian sport coat.\u00a0 It was Reedy, Bing\u2019s third wife, reminding him to pick up SkatePro, a kids\u2019 video game for her eight year old hyper brat.<\/p>\n That\u2019s the downside when you marry a chick twenty-five years younger.\u00a0 The sex is good, but the baggage that comes with it\u2014It\u2019s a tradeoff. \u00a0Hey, at least I had a few hot nights with the cocktail waitress,<\/em> Bing mused as he stared unabashedly at Traci\u2019s behind.<\/p>\n \u201cHey sweetie, tell Pedro we need a few more chairs,\u201d Bing stage whispered to Traci, looking no higher than her chest. \u00a0\u201cI\u2019m good with the suburban mom crowd, ya know what I mean?\u201d<\/p>\n Bing playfully draped his arm around Traci, pulling her into him for a wet kiss.\u00a0 Traci cooed back, giving Bing a wiggly hip bump in her tight black pencil cut jeans.<\/p>\n \u201cGotta check my hair, where\u2019s the loo, honey?\u201d\u00a0 Bing gurgled in Traci\u2019s ear with coffee fouled breath.\u00a0 Tracie gestured with her shoulder, a deliberately calculated move which tightened her low cut blouse and extended her breast within inches of Bing\u2019s nose.<\/p>\n \u201cBack in a few,\u201d Bing chortled in what he thought was a sexy voice.<\/p>\n Joe\u2019s jaw tightened and his eyes began to well up as he felt his pulse surging through his temples.<\/p>\n Pedro?\u00a0 My name is not Pedro<\/em>\u2026 Joe raged in his head.\u00a0 Whoever thinks that temp jobs don\u2019t have stress should try one for a day<\/em>.<\/p>\n Joe bit his lip and trained his eyes on the perfectly neat rows of chairs he had set up.\u00a0 He thought about his paycheck, the big yellow truck for Joey, and the golden locket that Lydia would wear around her dainty and graceful neck.<\/p>\n Joe headed towards the storage room to get another rack of chairs but detoured towards the men\u2019s room to splash some cold water in his face.\u00a0 As he rounded the hallway corner he pushed the men\u2019s room door open, unexpectedly catching Bing smiling at himself in the bathroom mirror, as if Bing had just heard the answer to the question, \u201cWho\u2019s the fairest of them all?\u201d\u00a0 Joe looked at his feet noticing Bing\u2019s navy blue jacket on the floor.\u00a0 Bing was lost in self-admiration as Joe stooped to pick up the sport jacket.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t touch that.\u201d<\/p>\n Bing\u2019s exhortation came too late, as he spun around nearly losing his balance with his arm stretched out in a blocking move.\u00a0 Joe had already scooped up the jacket.\u00a0 Bing and Joe both stared at the brand new copy of SkatePro, the plastic label half removed.\u00a0 Bing\u2019s jacket had been concealing it on the bathroom floor.<\/p>\n \u2018Hey there, buddy\u2026 wow\u2026uh\u2026 thanks for all that great\u2026.uh\u2026.uh\u2026 set-up work.\u00a0 I\u2019ll put in a good word for you with the, uh\u2026 boss!\u201d<\/p>\n Bing stuck his hand out intending to shake Joe\u2019s hand.\u00a0 Joe stood silently, hands clenched in his pockets, while his eyes alternated between the video game and Bing\u2019s outstretched hand.<\/p>\n \u201cNo comprendo, pal?\u00a0 Ha ha…\u201d Bing said, snatching the video game and stuffing it into his jacket, before banging the door open with his fist. \u201cWell, hello, Stocker Park, it\u2019s time to play… Ha ha ha, you remember the show!\u201d<\/p>\n He rolled out the scripted dialog for the zillionth time, nodding with fake humility at the poster of himself and then mugging for the audience of six postmenopausal ladies, a couple of bored husbands, and a handful of kids whose mothers had dropped them off while they browsed elsewhere.\u00a0 Bing continued, pasty smile plastered across his face, as if he were doing the opening monologue at the Oscars.<\/p>\n \u201cNow, don\u2019t be shy, ‘C\u2019mo- ah ah ah ahn Do ow ow ow nn!’ for your very own personal, autographed copy of my book,\u201d Bing bellowed out as he concluded the \u201cshow.\u201d<\/p>\n As the few ladies trickled out of the caf\u00e9, Bing pointed at Traci giving her the come here command with his index finger.<\/p>\n \u201cHey, hon, pack up the books for me and have someone load them into my Beamer in the front lot.\u201d<\/p>\n Traci departed to the rear of the store, toward the back emergency exit, opening it with the key on her plastic wrist bracelet that looked like a mini telephone cord.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe, you\u2019re on a break again?\u00a0 I need you right now to load the books into Mr. Collier\u2019s car in the courtesy lot and then take down the display tables and chairs.\u00a0 Now means now!\u201d Traci said, snapping her fingers and pointing at Joe.<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Classer, I need to talk to you.\u00a0 It\u2019s important,\u201d Joe pleaded as Traci turned her back to him.\u00a0 \u201cIt\u2019s about Mr. Collier\u2026 \u00a0I saw something that\u2019s not right and I need to report it.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe, no time right now, okay?\u00a0 Mr. Collier is in a hurry.\u00a0 Here are his car keys, now get going.\u201d \u201cHey, buddy,” said Bing, “I put in a good word for you, just like I said.\u00a0\u00a0 See ya.\u201d<\/p>\n Bing did a finger wave at Joe as he backed up his car and gunned it out of the lot. \u201cHello, Mr. Whitehead,\u201d Joe said quizzically as Darby Whitehead approached Joe, accompanied by Traci Classer and a security guard.\u00a0 Joe had not seen Mr. Whitehead since the first day he reported to the temp hiring office at Stocker Park.<\/p>\n \u201cJoe,” said Darby, “I\u2019m afraid we won\u2019t be needing your services anymore.\u00a0 When we let an employee go, we have a policy of escorting the employee to his locker and then off the premises.\u00a0 It\u2019s just a security thing.\u00a0 I\u2019m sorry. You\u2019ll get your last paycheck in the mail in two weeks.\u00a0 With the holidays, it will probably come after Christmas, though.\u00a0 Sorry about that.\u00a0 We can\u2019t control the bookkeeping.\u00a0 Come with me.\u201d<\/p>\n Mr. Whitehead gestured towards the door with a manila file that had Ready Man Temporary Staff printed on it.<\/p>\n Joe stood motionless, feeling a wave of nausea rising, and his legs beginning to collapse.\u00a0 The security guard grabbed Joe\u2019s upper arm.<\/p>\n \u201cBut why I am being fired?\u00a0 I was trying to tell you, Miss Classer.\u00a0 I saw Mr. Collier in the restroom with a video game hidden under\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cJoe, let\u2019s go.\u00a0 Mr. Collier is none of your business, and frankly you shouldn\u2019t have spent so much time in the restroom.\u201d<\/p>\n Miss Classer stared blankly at Joe then checked her watch.<\/p>\n Joe shuffled, almost forgetting how to walk, as the security guard escorted him by the arm to the door in front of Mr. Whitehead.\u00a0 Tears streamed down his reddened face as shoppers in expensive ski parkas and designer sunglasses gawked, then veered away, clutching their designer bags tighter.\u00a0 A popular rock-style Christmas carol blared from the outside speakers where Joe was being led past fake trees and life-sized carolers.<\/p>\n \u201cFeliz Navidad,\u201d the singer sang in a not too Hispanic accent.<\/p>\n \u201dFeliz Navidad,\u201d the singer continued, even more upbeat upbeat, \u201cFeliz Navidad, Prospero Ano y Felicidad.\u201d by Audrey Forrest It wasn\u2019t really a \u201cdowntown\u201d or even a city as it liked to pretend.\u00a0 It was some urban architect\u2019s idea of how to disguise a shopping mall and make it look like some charming and quaint village\u2014something … Continue reading
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\nBing Collier had seen a hundred of these places if he had seen one.\u00a0 Another Saturday morning book signing at the local Whitehalls, this time at Stocker Park Village in a posh Chicago suburb.\u00a0 Problem was, nobody knew who the hell he was anymore.\u00a0 Back in the fifties, Bing had made his fame as a panel member on daily game shows broadcast between soap operas and local news.\u00a0 Unless you were in your mid-fifties, though, you wouldn\u2019t even recognize his name.<\/p>\n
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\nEven with the stragglers and little kids playing musical chairs, the audience barely filled in twelve seats.\u00a0 The theme song to I\u2019ve Got Your Number<\/em> blared out of the portable amps, signaling the start of Bing\u2019s book signing.\u00a0 Traci was now standing in the store vestibule attempting to usher patrons, or anyone, for that matter, into the free Bing Collier \u201cshow.\u201d\u00a0 Bing entered through the back caf\u00e9 door, jacketless, and with a little hop-skip, up to the book signing table.<\/p>\n
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\nJoe piled the last box into the Beamer as Bing approached the car.<\/p>\n
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\nJoe pulled the rack of chairs into the storage area next to the table and portable audio equipment, and then rang the buzzer on the wall that signaled a manager to lock up the room.<\/p>\n
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\nAUDREY FORREST<\/strong> is an author of short fiction whose most recent work is featured in the Spring 2009 edition of the University of Wisconsin\u2019s literary magazine, Straylight. She is an adjunct professor at Lorain Community College in Elyria, Ohio. Her works explore issues of social justice.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"