The Boundary

Chapter 1-1

Chapter One

Gray

When I boarded the bus on Belvedere, a cold Spring mist covered me. I’d left my umbrella at home, trusting that the weather app on my phone was correct for a change. In theory, it was partly cloudy, with a thirty percent chance of rain. The dark clouds swirling over the James River as the bus crossed the bridge to the southside told another story. It matched my mood perfectly, adding another layer of gloom and uncertainty that settled in the pit of my stomach whenever I had to go to work.

For the last two months my co-worker at the cosmetics counter, Angie, had barely spoken to me. I’d been called into my manager’s office every week with multiple complaints from her and the other beauty advisors. According to them, I was stealing sales, mowing them down in my rush to make sales for the line I sold, Isabelle Lancray. Nothing could be further from the truth. The difference between me and them was I worked my ass off, instead of leaning against the counter gossiping with coworkers. Because of this, I went to work every day afraid to speak or move, not wanting to provoke their animosity, and I’d seen my paychecks shrink as a result. I’d barely been able to scrounge enough money to pay the rent on my tiny one-bedroom apartment, and ramen noodles had become a dietary staple.

I worked for Thalhimers department store, and though schlepping lipstick to the wealthy west-end women wasn’t exactly my dream job, it paid the bills. My degree was in theatrical makeup, but those jobs were insanely hard to find, though I’d snagged a few gigs when the occasional Hollywood film was shot in Richmond. And while makeup counter jobs were fairly easy to come by, none of them could compare to working at Thalhimers. The hours were perfect, and so was the pay. We were only open from ten in the morning until seven and were closed on Sundays. It was a luxury retailer, so the typical customer didn’t bat an eye with shelling out a thousand bucks on a jar of night cream. There was no other retailer in town where I could make such great commission and keep decent hours.

When the doors to the bus opened at my stop the rain was pouring down. Another perk of my job was the excellent discount on clothing. Unfortunately, the designer threads I was wearing hated water, and I was about to be drenched. I lifted my backpack over my head, stepped off the bus and raced across the parking lot as fast as I could go. By the time I reached the employee entrance my black wool turtleneck was stuck to my skin, and my loafers were soggy from splashing through puddles. The first person I saw was Angie, looking dry and superior. She smirked in my direction while she punched in at the time-clock. Since that was the closest thing to a smile I’d had from her in weeks, it instantly filled me with dread.

“Watch your back.” Steve whispered as he took my backpack. He was in charge of loss prevention, and they held onto our bags while we worked. Since he’d never spoken to me beyond a simple “good morning” before, the drenched hair on the back of my neck tingled. I wanted to ask what he meant, but there was a line forming at the time-clock and I couldn’t.

My index finger shook as I punched in my ID number, and I messed it up and had to do it again, provoking a cascade of groans from the people behind me. It was less than a minute until the store opened and we were all running behind schedule thanks to the rain. When I turned away from the time-clock, I heard a woman’s voice whisper, “asshole.” My cheeks burned, and I had to stop myself from turning around to see who it was. Instead, I pushed through the double doors and jogged toward my counter, where I saw the cosmetics department manager, Jean, waiting for me, Angie by her side. I winced as a cramp tore through my stomach.

Fuck my life.

“Gray, Kim wants to see you in human resources.” Jean said, her stare aimed over my shoulder. Angie’s overly made-up eyes never left my face, and the smirk I’d seen earlier was now an ear-to-ear grin. “Now.”

“Did she…” I began, but the woman hurried away before I could finish my sentence. Angie ripped open a cardboard box full of stock to put away, that smug grin never leaving her face. My fists clenched, and I had to bite my lower lip to prevent myself from saying something she’d use against me, again. When I turned to leave, I could’ve sworn I heard a giggle coming from her.

I winced and said nothing.

As I crossed the marble floor to the escalator, my eyes instantly went to the Blumarine ripped jeans displayed on the wall next to it. They retailed for $699, and because of the insane amount of feathers and beads embroidered into them, could only be worn once, if at all. They were stunning, and I’d have given anything to be able to afford them. Of course, the practical side of my brain screamed at the utter waste of money. But, the artist in me craved them, and like the visual department had done, I would have framed and hung them up just so I could appreciate their beauty.

This job meant so much to me. I’d never made as much money, and even though I wasn’t close to being the type of guy who could shop here, it felt f*****g good to say I worked for Thalhimers. Plus, I was an artist. I was surrounded by elegance and beauty every single day, and compared to other retail work, it was cushy, refined, and I wasn’t embarrassed to tell people where I spent thirty-five hours every week.

“Fuck.” I whispered, and when I got to the third floor, I stepped off the escalator and trudged toward human resources.