"I want to see your manager," declared Karen.
The employees' laughter cut off instantly. Ha. Served them right. These giggling teens didn't know anything about her, didn't know what her day had been like. Didn't know what it was like to be her, with three screaming brats at home and only three days of vacation time.
This stop was supposed to be short. It was supposed to be a rest stop. A place to refuel and pick up her supplements. A ten-minute detour on the way to her spa retreat in the countryside.
But as soon as she'd driven into this town everything had gone wrong. Immediately. It was like the place was cursed. Nowhere more than this garbage hole mini mart. This mini mart which was both too large to easily transverse and too limited in selection.
"Ma'am," said one of the teens, a girl with an incredibly unprofessional haircut and dye job. Not to mention her piercings. "You really don't want us to do that." She licked her lips and some of her cheap black lipstick came off.
Didn't this store have any kind of dress code? Any kind of professional standard?
"You either get me your manager, or you get me what I asked for." Drawing a line in the sand was the only way to get things done. The only way to keep people from walking all over you.
The teens exchanged nervous looks.
"Ma'am," said the other, a boy. "We would, but we're out."
"Then you shouldn't have advertised them," said Karen, venomously.
"That was last week," he protested. "It was a sale to make room for new products. We don't—"
"Unless you're treating me the way customers should be treated, I don't want to hear it," snapped Karen.
The teens exchanged a glance. "Fine," said the girl. "I'll get him."
Karen huffed and crossed her arms, satisfied. About time.
She let her eyes rake over the dismal little store while she waited for the girl to come back. God, it was disgusting in here. She'd be glad to be back on her way.
Three employees, if she could call them that, in this tiny store and it still managed to get this bad. Not to mention the rest of this pothole-ridden town.
If her car didn't have new tires by the time she got back, oh, there would be hell to pay.
The overhead lights flickered.
The girl jogged back. "He's coming," she said.
"Is he too busy to come with you?" asked Karen. Of all the inconsiderate things…
"He has health issues," said the girl. The lights strobed again, the darkness lasting longer.
"Do you not pay your power bills or something?" asked Karen, annoyed. The flickering was giving her a headache.
"Look," said the boy, "when your town's been through as much as ours has, then you can complain."
"Excuse me? Is that how you talk to a paying customer?"
"You haven't paid for anything yet, lady—"
"You little—"
"Excuse me. Are you harassing my employees?"
Karen jumped. The young man had, somehow, managed to appear behind the teens while the lights were out. As the lights blinked again, he loomed above her and—
No. He was shorter than she was. About the same height as the teens, in fact. A trick of the light? Whatever. It didn't matter.
What mattered was getting something to make up for the time she was wasting here. Honestly. This stupid town owed her.
Not that these children would be sympathetic to her plight. No, if life had taught her anything, it was that she had to fight for what she deserved.
So, she presented her case to the manager—And if he knew what was good for this place, he'd let her win. She could and would write an absolutely scathing review and she was in half a dozen Facebook groups that would support her in writing them, no questions asked. There was this one woman on the opposite coast who was practically a genius when it came to reviews.
"Are you listening?" she snapped halfway through, when the manager had failed to respond at all. Usually, by this point they'd tried some kind of spineless, stuttering appeasement.
"Yes," he said, without any emotional inflection. "Please continue."
Karen shivered. "Your AC is on too high, too."
"This is how I like it," said the manager, voice still flat. "This is how our customers like it."
"What customers?" sneered Karen. "I'm the only one who's been here for the past half an hour."
The manager shrugged. "You should get your prescription checked."
The lights flickered. The other two employees were gone, nowhere in sight. When had they left? Had they edged out of sight while she was discussing their abysmal performance with the manager.
"You should leave."
"Excuse me?"
"You should leave. Ma'am."
"You can't be serious."
"Dead serious. You're upsetting our customers. Also, I have real work to do."
"You don't have any customers."
For a long moment, the manager simply stared at her. Then he grinned, the expression not reaching his eyes at all. His teeth… bothered Karen. It wasn't that they weren't clean… maybe they were too clean?
She felt herself taking a step back, sweat prickling the back of her neck.
"We don't have any customers that you can see."
The lights went out, this time for long enough for Karen's eyes to adjust. Over a dozen pairs of glowing eyes stared back at her.
She jumped, and the first split second of a scream made it past her lips before she realized the prank being played on her. She scowled.
"I'll be bringing you and your unprofessional conduct to the attention of your superiors, I'll have you know," she said.
"Good luck with that," growled the manager, looking down at her. "I own this place."
Growled. Looking down at her.
His eyes burned neon green, brighter and more real than any sticker or glowstick Karen had ever seen.
"Let me spell this out to you, Karen," rumbled the thing in front of her. "You are not welcome here."
She ran.
.
"That was kind of mean, Danny," said Tucker, tone entirely judgement-free.
Danny, who was telekinetically reshelving the stuff the woman, a particularly annoying and non-perceptive out-of-towner, had knocked down in her haste to get away, shrugged. "She probably didn't even pick up the details," he said, sadly, shaking his head. "Some of my best work, gone unappreciated."
"I think she appreciated it all right," said Tucker, an edge of glee creeping into his voice. "Did you see how fast she ran?"
"Yep," said Danny, inhaling deeply and drinking in the last lingering dregs of the woman's fear. "Y'know, I think her name might have actually been Karen, considering her reaction."
"Oof, that almost makes me feel bad."
"Eh," said Danny, shrugging. He stood on his tip toes to get a few extra inches over the shelves. "Hey, Sam, you good on the register?"
Sam shot him a thumbs up, not even looking away from the blob-like ghost she was currently ringing up. Danny dropped back to his heels.
"Okay, then, if you're both good out here," he said. "I'm going to go finish that negotiation for the ectoplasm cookies."
"Good luck," said Tucker.
"And if someone is like that again, call me right away, okay?"
"Got it, boss."
"Gross. Don't call me boss."
"Boss. Boss man. Chief. Mr. Manager. Head honcho."
"Okay, that's worse. Seriously. You and Sam are on the deed, too."
"Ah, but you're the one our ghostly suppliers will negotiate with. Better get back to that, by the way."
Danny sighed. "I'm promoting you." He walked away.
"You- No, you can't do that! Danny! Wait! You can't promote me! Danny!"