Troublemaker - 21. Chapter Twenty-one

Todd

“There’s a spill in aisle five. Someone clean it up. Now.”

I looked from the box of tampons I was forced to restock again to see a coworker racing across the end of the aisles with a mop and bucket. When Damon was the one calling for a spill cleanup through the intercom, the cleaner knew he had to hurry or receive an unfair scolding by the manager’s grandson.

A child’s crying then reverberated through the store, and I only had to guess where the spill came from. Out of curiosity, I ventured from my post in the feminine hygiene section to the aisle five where the sodas and juices were stocked. What I see is a mother quietly reprimanding her son about not opening anything in the grocery store, while Frank mopped the dark liquid of a two-liter Coke bottle. The mother apologized to him before dragging her still crying child with one hand and her basket in another.

“Hey, Frank. You need any help there?” I asked as I approached him.

“Nah, I’m good, man. Just another day on the job,” Frank said with a chuckle. “Actually, do you mind getting a wet-floor sign from the back? I forget it while running over here.”

“Sure. No problem.”

I began walking to the back of the store to get the sign, a very simple task to complete. However, as I spotted a stack of them near the door to the warehouse, I heard Damon’s voice once again. I then heard someone sobbing, and I had to explore what was happening.

At the chips and snacks section was another fellow coworker, Sandra, with her head bowed as Damon talked down to her. She was only an employee of Marty’s for about a month, but I knew at that short time already that she was a hardworking person. She was also very shy and had a small problem with interacting with customers who needed help.

Based on what Damon was saying, Sandra was the one who gave the crying child the soda from the high shelf, and he was now verbally attacking her for it.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know he was going to open it! I was just trying to help!” Sandra said through her sobbing.

“You should always hand the product to a parent, not a child! Otherwise, you get messes like the one in aisle five,” Damon said.

Shaking my head, I stepped in and said, “Come on, Damon. What kind of rule is that?”

“Stay out of this, Miller,” Damon warned. “Go back to restocking those tampons I told you a hundred times to do already.”

Grating my teeth, I decided to give in and turned around. However, upon hearing the possibility of Sandra being fired over this incident that caused her to full-blown cry, I twisted back and confronted the demon.

“Miller, I thought I said–”

“Not cool, Damon. You can’t fire Sandra over something like that,” I argued.

“Well, you’re not the manager, are you?” Damon said with crossed arms like he best point in the world.

“No, you’re the manager’s grandson, and someone who's been terrorizing the employee’s here for too long.”

“I’m not terrorizing anybody. I’m just making sure everything and everyone is working at their most optimal settings.”

“What are we? Robots? We’re not just here to be bossed around and fuel your power trip,” I said as I stepped closer to him.

“Watch it, Miller. Go back to what you were doing before, or I’ll tell my granddad what you've been doing to our products since you’ve started working here.”

I took a step back. “What…What are you talking about?”

“You slipped up, Miller. I followed the Instagram account on the back of one of those stickers, and after a little digging, I knew it was you. I was willing to overlook it since you haven’t given me any other problems, but unless you want me to spill the beans to Granddad about your unique form of activism, I advise you to step back now and let me handle this incident.”

My hands were clenched in tight fists, and the fucker had the nerve to smile, thinking he finally got me. I looked at Sandra who was crying softly, while some of my other coworkers stood by and wondered what my next move was.

I knew I should’ve relented and went back to restock the tampons that always seemed to run out and later tell another customer that the reduced prices for the canned corn ended a week ago. I should just do whatever it took to keep my job…but as Damon turned back around to reprimand Sandra again like that mother to her child, I had enough.

Stepping forward again, I placed my hand on his shoulder and said, “That’s enough, Damon.”

Damon looked at me in shock before saying, “Don’t touch me, Miller.”

“Don’t be an asshole, Martinez,” I clapped back.

“What did you call me?” Damon exclaimed, stepping forward until our faces were only inches apart.

“I said ‘Don’t be an ass–”

Damon shoved me hard, almost causing me to fall on my ass on the polished linoleum floor. But I managed to stay on my two feet and lunged forward and shoved Damon back. He was much less graceful as he tripped and fell backwards. His hand caught the shelf with the Lays potato chips that gave way, and the bags fell along with him to the floor. I could hear gasps and cheers from my coworkers, while Sandra looked with wide eyes at what I just committed.

“You’re so fired, Miller!” Damon shouted as he scrambled to get back on his feet.

“You shoved me first,” I argued back, still not believing I even did so.

“Who do you think my granddad will believe, huh?”

“The cameras you had installed, probably. And my coworkers are going to be good eyewitnesses as well,” I pointed out, looking back at them as they nodded in agreement.

Baring his teeth, Damon grabbed a can of salsa from a nearby shelf.

“What are you–”

Damon splattered mild tomato-based salsa all over my uniform.

So, we were going to play this game.

I was ready as I grabbed some sour cream chip dip and flung the contents at Damon who tried to dodge the incoming white sauce from hitting him. Instead, he slipped on a bag of chips and fell back down as the dip splattered him too.

I failed to suppress my smirk as Damon tried desperately to scrabble back onto his feet as my coworkers shared various degrees of shock and amusement.

As Damon continued to get back on his feet, I felt a pang of pity for him, so being my good-natured self, I extended my hand to him.

With wet eyes, Damon looked at my hand and reached for it, only to pull me to the floor with him along with dipping sauce spread on the floor. The next thing that happened was a blur as he hit me with a family-sized bag of chips, exploding the bag and showering us both with barbecue-flavored potato chips. We fought with whatever was in reach, which included every brand of chips and dips, salsas, and other sauces that made the aisle look like a unicorn bloodbath.

Rage and a rush of adrenaline was mixed into our fight until two coworkers pulled us apart. Damon struggled and swore, while I just laid limp, already tired and messy from the scuffle.

“What the hell is going on here?” Mr. Martinez yelled.

I looked up, I saw his tall frame tower over me as he glared at me and then to his grandson who froze upon his arrival.

“My God! Look at this mess! What happened here?”

Damon was tightlipped, and instead of answering my boss, I just shut my eyes and prayed to God, the Godmother, or whoever to wake me up and tell me it was all a bad dream.

I felt like I was in the principal’s office after fighting with a fellow classmate who sat next to me in the same mahogany chair in the same small office, both of us waiting anxiously for Mr. Martinez to appear and determine our fate.

We were both silent as we sat there, still covered in the stains and crumbles on our uniforms from our fight almost twenty minutes, the ticking of the clock on the wall sounding like tsk tsk of disapproval and disappointment.

I turned my eyes quickly to Damon who had his arms crossed and was slumped in his chair, while I sat ramrod straight with my hands folded on my lap, as if my posture would at all prevent me from getting reprimanded or fired.

“God, is the worst day of my life,” Damon spoke, combing his hair back with his sauce-covered fingers.

I scoffed. “Why? Worried you’ll get fired? You’re the boss’s grandson. No way that’s going to happen.”

“You don’t understand. I wanted to prove to my granddad that I had what was necessary to take over the business when he retires… Now I’m going to have to start at step one again. Thanks a lot.”

“Well, if you weren’t such an asshole to everyone who worked here, perhaps it wouldn’t have led us to brawling in the chip aisle.”

“Hey, I’m just asserting my authority and making sure everyone knows who’s in charge and that they do what is best for the business, either that or be a pushover.”

I shook my head. “You’re just a bully trying to justify your horrible behavior. All this is your fault, Damon. Not mine.”

Damon opened his mouth for a possible rebuttal, but nothing came out and instead he slumped further into his chair and stayed quiet.

A moment of silence stretched between us until Damon released a shaky sigh and said, “I swore I wouldn’t become the bullies who made fun of me back in high school. I wanted everyone to know I was someone to be taken seriously and not make fun of me behind my back… I guess it all came full circle, huh?”

I looked back at Damon whose lips were trembling, and just then the door behind us opened and we both turned to see our boss. He sighed heavily as he passed us and dropped himself on his desk chair. He didn’t say anything at first, just clicking his computer mouse and glaring at the screen as Damon and I waited for our fate.

Mr. Martinez then leaned back against his chair, its creaking the only sound in the room. He looked at us, eyes switching from me to Damon a few times.

Sighing again, he then asked, “What happened?”

I looked at Damon who was tight-lipped, so I looked at Mr. Martinez, and I said, “Damon was yelling at Sandra, threatening to fire her over the spill in aisle five.”

“Goodness gracious, Damon. How many times do I have to tell you that you can’t just threaten my employees with losing their job over miniscule things like spilled soda? And if it is something worth firing someone over, you come to me first.”

“I’m sorry, Granddad,” Damon whispered.

“So, is that the reason you two caused such a mess?” Mr. Martinez asked.

I nodded. “Sandra was on the verge of crying, and I simply told Damon to stop it.”

“And then…?”

Sitting straight, I said, “Damon then shoved me. One thing led to another and we were fighting.”

“So, you’re saying Damon touched you first, Todd. Is this true, Damon?”

Biting his bottom lip, he nodded once.

Mr. Martinez bowed his head in disappointment, a move I was all too familiar with when it came to me with my father. Though I mostly didn’t give a crap that my dad saw me as a disappointment and a failure, it seemed to be affecting Damon greatly, looking very distressed as he nervously scratched his head with a scrunched face.

“Damon,” Mr. Martinez said as looked at his grandson with sad eyes, “You know I love you very much, and I know you only do these things because you think it’s best for the business. But…”

Damon broke out a sob, and I couldn’t help feeling bad for him despite all the bullcrap he pulled on me and the rest of my coworkers.

So, out of nowhere, I said, “That’s not the only reason we fought.”

Mr. Martinez raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

It was my turn to sigh, and I revealed, “You know those stickers that someone keeps leaving on the items in the store?”

“Uh-huh.”

I bowed my head. “That someone was me.”

“What on God’s green earth?” Mr. Martinez in exacerbation.

“Yeah… Damon found out and confronted me and…you know the rest.”

Damon looked back at me with wide, teary eyes, and I just shrugged.

“That’s vandalism, Todd. You know that, right?”

“I didn’t mean for it to be like that, sir. I just wanted to spread my influence and perhaps a message as well,” I explained.

“Well, regardless of what message you were trying to spread, the fact of the matter is that your antics may have caused us the store money.” Mr. Martinez rubbed his temples. “I can’t afford to lose two employees right now… I’m sorry, Todd, but out of the two of you, I have to choose you to let go.”

I winced at those words. Crap. I was fired.

“But Granddad,” Damon interjected.

Mr. Martinez raised his hand. “No. This is not up for debate. Todd, I’m sorry, but you no longer work here. You can get your last check on Friday… You can keep the uniform.”

I held back a chuckle as I looked at my food-stained apron and said, “I’m sorry I let you down, sir.”

Mr. Martinez nodded. “I wish you the best of luck on finding a new job. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a literal mess to clean up.”

Rising from his chair, Mr. Martinez rolled his shoulders and mumbled something under his breath before leaving his office. That left Damon and me in the room that suddenly felt too small and suffocating.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

I turned to Damon who was looking down. “I know.”

“You could’ve just let him fire me.”

“I know.”

“Then why? Why did you save my ass,” Damon asked with curiosity.

I just chuckled and stood up. “I don’t know. But let’s just say I can relate to your situation, with family and expectations.”

Damon raised a brow. “Huh?”

I just said, “Have a great rest of your day, Damon.”

I sat on the couch in the living room with a large box of pizza, a two-liter coke and a tub of newly opened Neapolitan ice cream all spread on the coffee table. Let’s just say I didn’t have the best coping mechanism when dealing with stress, getting drunk at Bottoms Up after my spat with my dad being another example of that. But instead of drowning my sorrow with alcohol, I decided to get a food coma instead.

It has been a few hours since being fired from my only job, and I was still reeling from the reality of being unemployed. And worse than that, I was dealing with this stress all by myself. Dillon was doing overtime at the nursing home, while Channing was busy being interviewed for other jobs. I even reached out to Anthony, but he didn’t answer my calls or text messages.

I shoved another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth as I watched a bad soap opera on the television when an obvious option came to my mind.

Barrett.

I grabbed my phone, but hesitated at first. Did I really want to burden Barrett with my problems? However, the pain in my heart convinced me to pull up his name in my contacts and pressed the call button.

I waited for almost a minute, and I feared Barrett wouldn’t answer his phone either.

“Hello?”

I smiled and said, “Hey, Barrett.”

“Oh… Hey, Todd.”

Barrett didn’t say anything else, and I wondered if I woke him, seeing that it was close to ten in the night.

“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you right now. I just wanted someone to talk to and–”

“No, no. You’re not disturbing me. I mean… Listen, Todd. I…I can’t really speak right now. Something happened and…”

“Do you want to talk about it? Are you alright?” I asked, concerned.

“No. It’s nothing major. And I’m alright…or I will be. I just need some time to myself. I hope you understand.”

“O-Of course I understand. Just shoot me a text when you want to chat. I recently got a lot of free time, so don’t be afraid to text me whenever,” I said and chuckled weakly.

“Thanks… Good night, Todd.”

“Bye, B–”

The call ended, and I stared at my phone for what felt like an eternity until a teardrop landed on the screen. A sob escaped my mouth, and I lied down on the couch and pulled the throw blanket on my body. Then the tears started pouring out.

I felt so alone, so rejected.

No one cared enough to spare me an ounce of their time, and I wanted right then to sink into the couch and disappear forever. Maybe then someone would give a damn.

As I cried, I couldn’t help thinking what happened to Barrett to have him be so dismissive of my need to talk to someone. And why didn’t he want to talk to me about it.

Eventually, the eyes ran out of tears, and I fell asleep.

Alone.