“Hi, Becky!” she says cheerily. “Hey, this is cute! I haven’t seen these before.”
“Actually,” I say quickly, “these aren’t for sale yet. In fact, I need to… um… take them back to the stock room.” I try to grab for the T-shirt, but she moves away.
“I’ll just take a look in the mirror. Hey, Tracy! What do you think?”
Another girl, wearing the new Dior print jacket, is coming toward us.
“Of what?”
“These new Tshirts. They’re cool, aren’t they?” She reaches for another one and hands it to Tracy.
“If you could just give them back to me—” I say helplessly.
“This one’s nice!”
Now they’re both searching through the hangers with brisk fingers, and the poor Tshirts just can’t take the strain. Hems are unraveling, bits of glitter and strings of diamante are coming loose, and sequins are shedding all over the floor.
“Oops, this seam just came apart.” Lisa looks up in dismay. “Becky, it just fell apart. I didn’t pull it.”
“That’s OK,” I say weakly.
“Is everything supposed to fall off like this? Hey, Christina!” Lisa suddenly calls out. “This new line is so fun!”
Christina?
I wheel round and feel a lurch of horror. Christina is standing at the entrance to the personal shopping department, in conversation with the head of personnel.
“What new line?” she says, looking up. “Oh, hi, Becky.”
Shit. I have to stop this right now.
“Lisa—” I say desperately. “Come and see the new Marc Jacobs coats we’ve got in!”
Lisa ignores me.
“This new… what’s it called…” She squints at the label. “Danny Kovitz! I can’t believe Erin didn’t tell me these were coming in! Naughty naughty!” She wags a finger in mock reproach.
I watch in dismay as Christina looks up, alert. There’s nothing to galvanize her like someone suggesting her department is less than perfect.
“Excuse me a minute,” she says to the head of personnel, and comes across the floor toward us, her dark hair gleaming under the lights.
“What didn’t Erin tell you about?” she says pleasantly.
“This new designer!” says Lisa. “I never even heard of him before.”
“Ow!” says Tracy suddenly, and draws her hand away from the T-shirt. “That was a pin!”
“A pin?” echoes Christina. “Give me that!”
“Christina, all I can do is apologize,” I say humbly. “I never meant to cause any trouble. I never meant to mislead the customers…”
“In my office,” says Christina, lifting a hand to stop me. “If you have anything to say, Becky, then you can say it—”
“Stop!” comes a melodramatic voice behind us, and we all whip round, to see Danny heading toward us, his eyes even wilder than usual. “Just stop right there! Don’t blame Becky for this!” he says, placing himself in front of me. “She had nothing to do with it. If you’re going to fire anyone — fire me!”
“Danny, she can’t fire you,” I mutter. “You’re not employed by Barneys.”
“And you would be?” inquires Christina.