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I call the glass repair shop and ask if they know how long it’ll be before they can get around to Rory’s, but as soon as the woman on the phone realizes it’s me she’s talking to, she loses the saccharin customer-service voice.
“We’ll get around to it when we get around to it,” I believe are her exact words before hanging up on me.
It’ll take some time, but eventually, I’m sure I can convince all these people I’m not the reason Zach didn’t hire any of them before he left town. Exactly what they thought I could do about it eludes me.
I guess people need a scapegoat when it turns out that big break isn’t coming. Who better than me for that job?
Troy never took me when he went out for a buy, so the only experience I have with acquiring new pieces is people bringing their stuff into the shop. I was hoping the glass was already installed, or at least that I could get someone out here today to take care of it, but until that happens, there’s not much I can do.
As I sit here on what still feels like the wrong side of Troy’s desk, I can’t stop thinking about how quickly this town that I’ve lived in my entire life, these people I’ve known forever could just turn on me so fast. I didn’t have to do anything but catch the eye of a powerful man: that was enough for everyone to decide they hate me.
It’s not fair, but stating that fact has never changed anything for anyone.
Still, as I sit here, I’m finding it increasingly difficult to keep my teeth unclenched, my fists unclenched.
I’ve done nothing to these people, yet when their golden goose turns out to just be a guy with a company and no personal investment in any of their lives, they go after me? I wonder if Troy was still alive when they broke the window or if they desecrated this place after word of his death spread.
Neither possibility seems human, much less reasonable.
I grab my phone and call the Mario’s Glass back, tapping my fingernails on the desk as the line rings.
“Mario’s Glass where every day is clear and bright,” the woman I talked to a few minutes ago answers.
“Yeah, this is Grace over at Rory’s,” I say. “I’m going to need someone to come by today, or I’m going with someone else.”
The woman sighs loudly. “I know you like to think you’re too new here to be a part of this community, but we’re the only glass shop in town.”
“That’s fine,” I tell her. “I’ll just let Grant know that you’re not pulling your weight. Come to think about it, the call probably shouldn’t come from me. That’s all right, though. There are a few people in this town who still speak to me. I’m sure with enough complaints, Grant will have you reassigned in no time. Where’d the last person who wasn’t living up to their potential end up?” I ask. “I think it was sewer duty, wasn’t it? I know you like to think I’m too new here to be a part of this community, but I’ve lived here my whole life, and I know how this town runs, so maybe you just do your job and put the work order through.”
From an objective viewpoint, Zach is by far the most powerful individual I’ve ever met. In Mulholland, though, Grant is the one with all the cards, and he does not tolerate someone failing at a job in which he’s placed them.
Those who get on Grant’s bad side don’t easily find their way back off it again.
The woman groans. “I’ll have someone over there today, but that’s the only time you get to pull that card,” she says.
“Thanks for all your help,” I say in my brightest, cheeriest voice. “You’ve been great.”
I hang up the phone just in time to accidentally send Naomi’s incoming call to voicemail. When she calls back a few seconds later, the strangest thing happens, and Iaccidentallyignore that one, too.
There’s enough adrenaline in my veins I might just tell Naomi Max’s attack command and hope she repeats it loudly enough for him to hear it. The word is “creep,” but that’s neither here nor there.
Some guys come by after an hour or so to get the front window of the store replaced, but not one of them will look at me, even when speaking directly to me. I’d let my venom loose on them, but it’s a lot easier to threaten someone over the phone.
The first ten minutes they’re there, the only thing any of the workers says to me is, “Clean up all this glass before someone gets hurt, you idiot.”
Insult aside, before the men got here to replace the window, I tried the best I could to do just that. It’s hard when there’s so much glass over so much floor and all there is to clean with is an old push broom that’s missing so many bristles it’s just as likely to gouge the floor as move anything.
Still, I’ve had about all the conflict I’m in the mood for today, so I grab the broom anyway and flip it upside down to use the metal part of the brush strictly. It makes a terrible screeching noise going across the floor, but it’s moving the glass.
I’m most of the way done piling all the glass into one corner of the shop when one of the men working on the window, Alan, comes over and puts a hand on my shoulder.
“Let me do that for you,” he says. “I know you’ve had a rough time around town lately, and I just want you to know there are still those of us who care.”
“Yeah,” I scoff. “You guys already have the sheet of glass cut to size, but you’ve spent the last hour measuring. First, you measure the window; then you measure the glass. You measure the window. You measure the glass. You measure the window. You measure the glass. You measure the—”
“I get it,” he says. “I’m sorry about that. Let me make it up to you.”
Without waiting for a response, Alan snatches the broom from my hands and starts pushing the thing like there’s a prize for finishing early.