It _didn't_ make any sense.
So why was he doing it?
He still wasn't sure.
Two guards had entered the boardroom behind him, and he started as they drew even with him and grabbed his arms. "What the . . . ?" he said, looking around at them, then over at Newman King.
"It's training time," the CEO said. "They're here to escort you to our training facilities."
Bill squirmed out of the guards' grasp. "They don't have to treat me like I'm a prisoner."
"Quite right," King said. He made a motion with his hand, and the guards stepped back. "Sorry. Habit."
Bill took a deep breath. What had he gotten himself into here? And how was he going to get out of it?
He suddenly wished he had not taken King up on the offer to come to Dallas.
No. That wasn't true.
The CEO walked over to him. "We're happy you've decided to join The Store family," he said. "You will be a welcome and valuable asset to our team." He shook Bill's hand once again, and his grip was cold. "Please follow the guards.
They will take you to our training facilities." Grinning, he motioned toward the elevator door. "And have a nice day."
3
Shannon was called into Mr. Lamb's office, not during her break but almost immediately after starting her shift. Another employee, a new employee, came by to tell her the news and man the register for her.
There was something wrong.
She was ushered immediately into his office, and he looked up as she entered. There was no preamble, no small talk; he did not offer her a seat. Mr. Lamb stared at her from across the desk with barely disguised contempt and said simply, "You're fired. Turn in your uniform and your _Bible_."
She blinked, not sure she'd heard right. "Excuse me?"
"Clear the fuck out." The personnel manager stood. "You're through, you're fired, The Store no longer wants you, you stupid fat cow. Get off our property.
Now." She was stunned into silence.
"Now!"
She turned tail and ran. She didn't know what was happening or why, but she was smart enough not to question it. Never look a gift horse in the mouth, as Grandpa Fred always said. She quickly hurried away from the office, excited and angry at the same time. Excited that she was finally able to get out of here and away, to escape The Store's clutches, but angry at the way she was being treated. The anger was an instinctive reaction, though, an emotionally defensive response, and she knew enough not to act on it. She kept it controlled and sped downstairs to the locker room, where she took off her Store uniform while the camera videotaped her for the last time.
This was too good to be true, and she wanted to get off the premises before Mr. Lamb changed his mind.
She wondered, as she put on her street clothes, why it was that Mr. Lamb could fire her but Sam could not, then decided that Sam had probably arranged this, had probably figured out a way to get her out.
Or her dad had talked to Newman King in Dallas and King himself had arranged this.
No. It wouldn't have happened this fast.
She left her uniform and her _Employee's Bible_ in the locker, went back out onto the floor, stopped by the Customer Service desk to find out about her last paycheck, was told to leave The Store immediately, and then she was outside, in the parking lot, and she was free.
Free!
She almost felt like dancing.
She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to go home yet, and she got in the car and drove aimlessly and happily around town, finally pulling up in front of Diane's house.
She sat in the car for a moment, not sure she was brave enough to go up and knock on the door, but before she could make any sort of decision, Diane opened the front door and started up the walk toward her.
Shannon tried to read her friend's face, couldn't.
"Hey," she said.
Diane smiled shyly. "Hey."
She blurted it out. "I just got fired from The Store."
"They fired you?" Diane was up to the car now, leaning in the passenger window.
Shannon nodded. "Thank God."
Her friend laughed. The awkwardness that had existed between them for most of the summer seemed to have disappeared, and Shannon was glad she'd come by.
"So what are your plans?"
"Don't have any."
"Want to come in?"
Shannon thought for a moment, shook her head. "Want to cruise around?"
Diane nodded. "Okay. Let me tell my mom." She ran back inside the house, emerging a moment later with her purse. She opened the passenger door, hopped into the car.
"Still friends?" Shannon said.
Diane smiled. "Always."
"It would've been a long senior year without you."
"Tell me about it." Diane looked at her. "I'm glad you're back."
Shannon smiled. "I am, too," she said, starting the car.
She put the vehicle into gear and burned rubber toward Main Street.
THIRTY-TWO
1
For the first three days, Bill was kept alone in a completely dark room.
Solitary confinement. There was no light, no sound, no furniture, only padded floors and walls, rounded corners. No one opened the door to feed him, but there were sacks of potato chips, bagels, and fruit against one wall, plastic bottles of water and soft drinks next to them. There was a toilet in one corner, a trash can in another.
This was supposed to be training?
He should have expected something like this from The Store.
He couldn't help thinking that he was being watched, observed, videotaped with an infrared camera, and even in the pitch-dark he felt acutely self conscious about his movements and behavior and facial expressions. He could not relax, could not get comfortable, was always performing for an audience that might or might not be there, and when he was finally let out, blinking and flinching from the light in the training facility's main corridor, his muscles were knotted, tense, both his neck and back hurting.
He'd been allowed to keep his clothes on in the dark room, but now he was stripped and placed naked in a glass cage in the center of a crowded office, pointed to and laughed at by secretaries and executives. He was left there for twenty-four hours, forced to defecate in front of staring strangers, since the office never closed and workers were at the desks night and day.
What in God's name had possessed him to agree to this? If he'd said no, he would be back in Juniper now, with Ginny and Shannon, and Samantha would be over-seeing The Store.
Maybe.
He had only Newman King's word that he could have refused with no repercussions.
The truth was that they could all be dead now if he had refused. King could have had them all killed.
He would not put it past the man.
Or whatever he was.
They might be dead anyway, his wife and daughters. There was no way to know, no way to check, and it was the uncertainty of the fate of his family more than his own discomfort and embarrassment that consumed him.
He was let out of the cage by two guards, a collar looped around his neck, and led naked and filthy through the office of giggling secretaries, down a long corridor, to an all-white room, where a huge blond man sat on a white bench.
"Good morning, Mr. Davis. I am your instructor."
Bill licked his cracked lips, trying to wet them. He hadn't eaten since he'd left the dark room more than a day ago. "I thought this was supposed to be management training."
The instructor smiled coldly. "It is."
"But what's the point of . . . all this?"
"Humiliation is the key to cooperation. That is why we turn out such effective and efficient managers here."
Bill licked his lips again. "Can I get something to drink?"