Chapter 6 - The Backroom Shadow
Arthur stood frozen behind the counter, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth gritted together. He watched the young woman sprint out the front glass doors toward the parking lot, her yellow hoodie fluttering in the evening wind. He felt the burning stares of every customer in the room, their applause ringing in his ears like a barrage of insults.
"My office. Now," Arthur hissed through his teeth, his voice barely audible beneath the clapping.
Frank didn't flinch. He adjusted the cuffs of his blue jumpsuit, turned on his heel, and followed Arthur through the swing door into the manager’s private back office.
The door slammed shut, cutting off the noise of the waiting room. Arthur instantly turned around, tearing the headset from his skull and slamming it onto his mahogany desk with enough force to shatter the plastic casing.
"Are you out of your mind?!" Arthur roared, his face turning a deep, dangerous purple as he leaned across the desk, pointing a trembling finger at the old man. "You just handed away two grand! Do you know who owns this franchise? Do you know what my monthly quota is?!"
May you like
Frank stood calmly near the door, his hands resting naturally inside his deep jumpsuit pockets. "Your quota is built on theft, Arthur. I've watched you do this for six months. You pick the ones who look scared. You pick the kids, the single mothers, the elderly who don't know a spark plug from a brake pad."
"It's business!" Arthur screamed, his chest heaving violently under his grey polo shirt. "They pay for peace of mind! They pay what I tell them to pay! You're an employee here, Frank! You're a dirty, replaceable grease-monkey, and you just cost yourself your job!"
