Apart from a few mishaps and the casualty of a children’s music sampler, the move to the new A&R store in Murray Street was a success. The new store was much narrower, with densely packed shiny new shelves and service counters at the front and back. The big advantage was a basement floor, accessible by a broad set of stairs at the front of the store or a small glass lift – which was great as the casuals were still opening boxes and restocking shelves weeks later.
“Chris, can you please find a home for these books?” asked Denise pleasantly, lowering a small cardboard box down on the basement customer counter where Dan and I were working.
“What have we got?” I asked, pulling the box open and peering into the assortment of odds and ends. Most of the popular titles had already found their place on the gleaming wood and metal shelves, however this box appeared to be the lesser known titles where A&R only carried one or two copies.
“Mostly just odds and ends,” replied Denise, smiling happily at an old lady as Dan finished the customer’s purchase and sent her on her way. “I’m sure you’ll find a spot on the shelves for them.”
“Really?” I replied archly, pulling out a small, leather bound book. “Including that book?”
“Which book?” asked the tawny-haired woman in polite confusion.
“You know,” I whispered dramatically. “That book.”
Poor Denise’s face screwed up in surprise and horror.
“Oh God – that book! I thought we lost it in the move!”
I should probably explain. A&R was pretty liberal when it came to selling books about sex and violence. Our Women’s Erotic Fiction section was still one of our best sellers at this point, and our photography section ranged from cute fluffy animals to underwater sexual positions. Our Health and Relationships section technically did carry titles on childbirth, raising teens or the physical aspects of growing older, but it was mostly sex manuals. Unfortunately, someone screwed up when designing the layout of the basement level at the new store as they placed Children’s Fiction next to Health and Relationships, so part of a casual’s routine was to periodically shoo curious boys away from “The Joy of Sex.”
However some titles were too raunchy even for A&R’s mercenary approach. Brett Easton Ellis’s “American Psycho” was initially allowed on the shelves, but after complaints it was only sold behind the counter with each copy wrapped in cellophane. Another controlled book was a story about a son’s sexually abusive relationship with his mother. Ugh.
And then there was that book.
The small leather-bound photography tome had been ordered in by some customer who never turned up to claim it – possibly they turned into dust when they walked out into sunlight. The book was filled with black and white photos of women in various states of violent bondage and torture, and I choose to assume the blood was faked for artistic effect. To be honest I’m not sure any of us knew the name, we just referred to it as “Vampire Blood Porn,” or simply as that book. Since there was no way on earth we were going to risk putting it on a shelf where a child might see it, the small photography book had spent it’s days stored behind the counter at the old store, lurking in a darkened cupboard away from public view.
“Anyway, Denise continued, we’ve got another new casual starting today, she’s a first year uni student, so be nice to her.”
“We’re always nice!” protested Dan.
“Really?” countered Denise. “What about what you did to that customer who came in the other week to complain?”
“They tore an art box in half and then tried to claim that it was defective! Besides, the pudgy bastard could have used the extra exercise.”
“Look, I promise we’ll all get along,” I added hastily, putting that book back in the box and trying not to smile at the thought of the rude and snarling customer walking up and the aisles, looking for a non-existent returns desk. “Just leave it with us.”
A little while later Dan and I met Lana, the new casual. She was short – very short, and I write this as someone who has several jockeys in their family tree. The first year uni student had snowy white skin, short black hair and finely chiseled features that gave her face a very sharp look. Lana also had the naturally reddest lips of any girl I’ve ever met, and combined her pale demeanour and small frame the young woman had a very sweet, winsome look to her.
“So what are you studying?” asked Dan, trying to be smiling and cheerful as the young woman introduced herself and shuffled behind the counter.
“Oh, I’m an Art student,” replied Lana, making a show of adjusting her new badge.
“Oh, my parents are art teachers,” I chipped in brightly. “What’s your favourite artist? Goya? Raphael? Michaelangelo?”
“Donatello, Leonardo or Master Splinter?” finished Dan with grin.
“Oh, very funny,” replied Lana with a twisted smile. “Never heard that one before. But I don’t like Goya – he can be very… dark.”
I paused at this reply. Goya’s paintings did go through a pretty dramatic change when the Spanish artist was suffering from depression. I wondered if Lana was referring to Goya’s painting “Saturn Devouring His Son,” as the primordial titan’s look of horror as he raised the bloodied body of his infant progeny to his mouth had freaked me out too.
“Anyway, if you like I can get started by putting some of these books away,” continued the small young woman, reaching for the box Denise had brought down.
“NO!” I said, grabbing the box away from her. Lana looked hurt but Dan, catching my expression of panic, looked at the box and his eyes widened.
“Oh, uh, we mean, no, we don’t want you to strain your back,” the stocky figure stuttered. “How about I show you how the till works?”
Lana gave the both of us a suspicious look but shrugged and took the purchase of the next customer who walked up to the counter while Dan gave me a silent “upstairs” motion from behind the diminutive figure.
That was close, I thought making my way up the narrow rear stairs the staff used to access the basement. My heart was still pulsing as I dumped the box on the rear counter if the ground floor where Elaine has just finished dealing with a customer.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m already seeing someone,” she replied apologetically to the hopeful young man, her polite refusal rolling off her tongue with (unfortunately) practiced ease.
“Oh, hey Chris,” she said when the hopeful customer slunk off dejectedly. “What’s with the box?”
“We’ve got the new girl starting downstairs,” I whispered in conspiratorial tones. “There’s some book in here to put away that might be a bit pornographic and freak her out. Can I just put them behind the counter up here until we can think of what to do with them? I don’t think they should be on the shelf.”
Elaine rolled her eyes and shook out her long, wavy hair.
“Typical modern male,” she replied. “Haven’t you considered that she’s an adult fully capable of making her own decisions? I think what this really shows is how frightened men are of women who are in control if their own sexuality. The social construction of-“
As she spoke I sighed and fished that book out if the box.
“-and shows that you cannot put woman on a pedestal, no matter how well intentioned,” Elaine continued. “If you would only – oh God, why did you show me that? Put it away!“
“Told you,” I shrugged.
“Okay, I’ll stash this behind the counter for now,” breathed the young woman, her bronze skin now a shade paler as she reached out to take that book away from me. However as she did so a familiar voice screeched behind me.
“Chris, what are you doing up here?” snapped Kimberly, the frizzy-haired woman’s hands on her hips as she glared at me. “I thought I’d assigned you to the lower ground level today. And aren’t those the books that Denise was taking downstairs? What are you doing with them up here?”
Elaine and I looked at each other in frozen silence, our minds racing as we tried to think of an excuse.
“You’re right, I’m up here… because…,” I looked imploringly at the beautiful young woman behind the counter.
“One of the books… was actually supposed to be up here on the ground floor,” finished Elaine carefully, nodding me towards the box.”
“Yes! I mean, yes, that’s correct,” I finished, waving vaguely with that book. “It’s a… stationary book. A leather-bound diary.”
“What, are you waiting for me to take it for you?”
I think my brain actually shut down at this point. Kimberly was in the habit of loudly proclaiming her lack of a sex life to other staff members, and occasionally went on rants to the young men in the company about how we were probably spending every weekend engaging in drug-fuelled orgies. I literally have no idea what Kimberley would have made of that book, but I didn’t want to find out.
“No, I wouldn’t want to bother you with it,” I protested. “I’ll drop it off on my way back down.”
“Well hurry up then,” grumbled Kimberly, trying to smile at an elderly customer. “I’m not paying you to waste time hitting on female staff members, it’s disgusting.”
Trembling with relief, I grabbed the box and dropped the offending tome back inside. It may have been my imagination but I’m certain the other books tried to shuffle away from it.
I scurried up the aisle, and thankfully found Denise standing in her usual position near the front of the store.
“Denise, help me out,” I whispered conspiratorially. “I need to keep that book away from Lana, but Kimberly is watching everything I do today. Can you just keep it up here for the moment? I’ll find a better solution later.”
“I understand,” winked that wonderful woman. “We don’t want to scare Lana off on her first day. Leave it with me, I’ll find a place for it.”
I thanked Denise profusely and went back to check on Lana. The shy, small woman seemed to be coming out of her shell a bit, even if a couple of older customers asked her what year of high school she was in.
“So what kind of art are you working on at uni?” I asked after we’d finished putting the children’s books back in alphabetical order (a daily and never-ending task).
“Oh, it’s a digital study-“
Before she could finish, Dan tapped me on the shoulder and mimed going back to the counter to answer the phone, where a worried Denise was waiting on the other end of the line.
“Chris,” she said slowly. “Have you moved that book?”
“What? No, why would I do that?”
“Chris, it’s gone.”
“What do you mean it’s gone? It’s not like it can just walk off on its own.”
My mind raced as I tried to think of what happened.
“Ok, let’s go talk to Elaine.”
The moment I put the phone down I pulled Dan aside.
“That books gone walkabout,” I whispered furiously. “Can you check the Health and Relationships section for me and see if someone put it on the shelves?”
Dan’s face clouded over as we looked over and saw yet another pair of boys peek guiltily around the corner of the Children’s Fiction section at the adult books on display.
“Yeah, I’ll have a look,” he muttered worriedly. Meanwhile, I hared up the back stairs and met Denise and Elaine at the rear counter.
“So, have you found it?” I asked the two women.
“No, it’s just disappeared,” answered Elaine. “Do you think someone might have put it away upstairs?”
“What are you talking about?” snapped a familiar voice behind me. “Chris, what are you doing up here again?”
“Sorry boss,” I answered, turning around to see Kimberly glaring at me once again. “We just misplaced that, uh, leather-bound diary I brought up before.”
“Oh that?” replied the frizzy-haired blonde. “I was thinking about what you said, and I thought we should set up some of the more expensive stationary as a display next to the business section downstairs. I just dropped a box of diaries downstairs for the new girl to sort through.”
Denise, Elaine and I all shared a horrified glance.
“I, uh, should really be getting back to my counter now.” I stammered. “Like, right now.”
I rushed back down to the basement counter just in time so see Lana pull out that book from a stack of business diaries and casually flip it open.
“Oh no, wait, you might-” I started but Lana’s eyebrows were already raised in surprise.
“Hmm,” she murmured as she slowly turned the pages and scratched her chin. “Uh-huh. Yes, I see.”
After a few seconds she looked up and caught my look for amazement.
“What?” she replied casually. “I’m a photography student. Hell, we have worse stuff than this hanging up in the common rooms at uni.”
“B-but…” I murmured in shock.
“Here, look at this one for instance,” she continued calmly, holding open one of the pages. “This is actually based on a Japanese technique called Shibari, although it looks like the rope has slipped right up into-“
“Why are you telling me this?” I almost howled, but one look at my face and the short haired young woman dissolved into helpless laughter.
So that was the day I was reminded not to judge a book by its cover, and not to assume that a fellow casual isn’t a lot more broad-minded than I am when it comes to matters of sex.
As for that book, it continued to float around behind the basement floor counter for the next few years, until one day it finally disappeared; either being thrown out or was sold to someone who’s probably on a government watch list.
And as for Lana, she fit in perfectly; her dirty sense of humour even able to stop Dan in his tracks. We still had one more new casual left to join the team though.
But that’s a story for another day.
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