The Store Read online

  The recession had hurt tourism, but the recession was ending, and despite the dying downtown, the region was realigning itself with the changing economy.

  Outside investors had bought land and built time-shares, and there was even talk about putting up a resort near Castle Creek.

  Still, the high wages and steady employment of the lumber mill days were long gone, and the town council and chamber of commerce had been trying for some time now to lure corporate offices and software firms and other light industry to the area in order to bring jobs back to the region.

  Now they'd landed The Store.

  Bill pulled into the small, partially paved parking lot and swung his Jeep next to Ben's pickup. The editor had already staked out a seat in the front row of the council chambers, and Bill scooted in next to him. He glanced around the room. "Not very crowded."

  "Never is. Here." Ben handed him a single sheet of paper with double-sided printing. "Council agenda."

  "Anything exciting?"

  The editor shook his head, grinning. "Nope. Looks like you're going to be the lead in my article. Give 'em hell."

  The meeting commenced soon after. A local minister led the attendees in a prayer and the pledge of allegiance, there were some routine votes on procedural matters, then the mayor said, "We'll open the floor to comments from the public."

  Ben nudged him. "That's you. Stand up and talk."

  Bill stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. He was suddenly nervous, and he realized that he hadn't planned what he was going to say. He should've written it ahead of time and printed it out so he could read from a prepared text. Now he was going to bumble and stumble his way through a probably incoherent diatribe and forfeit any hope of credibility. His chances of effecting any sort of change were going to go straight into the toilet.

  The mayor nodded at him. "Please step up to the podium and state your name and address for the record."

  Bill walked up the side aisle to the front of the council chambers and stood at the speaker's podium. He adjusted the microphone in front of him and spoke into it. "My name is Bill Davis. I live at 121 Rock Springs Lane."

  The mayor motioned for him to continue.

  Bill glanced around the council chambers and cleared his throat nervously.

  "We all know that The Store is coming to Juniper, and I'm sure most of you have noticed by now that construction workers have decimated a stretch of land next to the highway just this side of the Acres. I jog by there every morning, so I saw it immediately. I understand that that's The Store's property, and I realize that they have to clear the land in order to put up the store and parking lot and everything, but I'm pretty sure that our local building codes are not being followed, and I know this goes against the town's Master Plan."

  He paused, was about to continue, but the mayor spoke first. "We appreciate your concern, Mr. Davis, but The Store has proved in other towns to be a responsible and respected addition to the community. It's true that designs for The Store do not conform to Juniper's Master Plan and do differ in some respects from our local codes and ordinances, but compromises were required to lure The Store to our town, and we think the tradeoffs were worth it. More jobs are going to be created, better goods will be provided to our citizens, everyone will be better off in the long run."

  "I understand that," Bill said. "But why doesn't The Store have to follow the same rules everyone else has to follow? I don't think they should be exempt from the law, and I'll bet a lot of our local businessmen feel the same way."

  "The Store is a national chain," the mayor said. "For obvious reasons, they have their own building designs and construction standards. They want all of their retail outlets, in every town, to look the same so they're easily recognizable. The corporation does not cave in to local pressures because it has a national agenda."

  "It's like McDonald's or Burger King," Bill Reid, the councilman to the mayor's right, spoke up. "They all look the same. They have to. Otherwise, their national ads wouldn't work."

  "I also have to point out," the mayor added, "that all of the towns that have a Store allow the corporation to dictate the terms of its construction. If we hadn't acceded to their wishes, Randall would have. And we would have lost The Store."

  "I think we could have kept The Store and maintained our local standards, preserved the character of our town. I don't think it was necessary to totally decimate the property in order to put up a building. Hell, that's what those codes and ordinances are supposed to prevent. Our strongest selling point here is our natural beauty. I don't think we should let anyone take that away from us." A burly, bearded, belligerent-looking man seated in the back of the council chambers stood up and strode angrily to the front of the room. Bill didn't know the man, but he'd seen him around town and he stood aside as the man stepped up to the podium and the microphone.

  "State your name and address," the mayor said.

  "Greg Hargrove," the man said. "1515 Aspen Road."

  Bill wasn't sure if his turn was over and he was supposed to sit down, but he wasn't through talking, so he remained where he was.

  Hargrove turned on him. "What's your problem, mister?"

  Bill was taken aback. "What?"

  "My company cleared that land. We followed the specs given to us by The Store, and we have all the proper permits. What the hell's your problem?"

  "I have no problem with you," Bill said. "You were just doing your job. I have a problem with The Store's plans and with the fact that the Planning Commission and the council allowed the company to ignore our local ordinances and destroy one of the most scenic pieces of property in the area."

  Hargrove shook his head disgustedly. "The Store will create jobs. Don't you understand that? All you tree-huggers care about is saving squirrels. You don't give a damn about people."

  "You're wrong. I do care about people. I care about the people in this town. And I'm thinking of what's best for the long-term interest of all of Juniper, not just the short-term benefit to you and other construction workers."

  "Bullshit!"

  Hargrove was getting angry, really angry, and Bill stepped back, taking his hands out of his pockets and keeping them free -- in case he needed to use them to defend himself.

  "We will not have that sort of language in the council chambers," the mayor said.

  "We moved to this town because of the area," Bill said evenly. "Believe it or not, the environment here - the trees, the forest, the mountains -- is the town's major selling point. People don't move here for city reasons or city jobs. That's why they move to Phoenix. Or Chicago. Or L.A. That's not why they move to Juniper."

  "All you care about --"

  "Maintaining jobs and protecting the environment are not mutually exclusive. You're thinking in old terms. You're thinking of the past. That's one of the great advantages of the Information Superhighway. With computers, you can now work for a company in New York or Los Angeles or, hell, even Paris or London, and have your office right here in Juniper. That's what I do. What I'm trying to say is that, yes, we need jobs here, but we can bring jobs to our area without sacrificing our quality of life."

  "Well, I'm not a computer geek. I own a construction business. You can't do my work with a computer."

  "I understand that --"

  "You don't understand shit! All you environmentalists want to protect every square inch of land, but you don't give a damn how it affects businesses like mine. How much more do you want to protect? The government already owns all the land around here! The whole fucking county's practically BLM territory!"

  "Mr. Hargrove!" the mayor said. "If you continue to use that sort of language, I will have you removed from the council chambers."

  "Sorry, your honor." Hargrove looked embarrassed.

  "Look," Bill said. "If Ted Turner or Bill Gates or some other billionaire bought exactly that same land, decided to protect it and put up a big fence around it, leaving it as is, you'd have no problem with it. Why is it okay for an individual to save land f
or himself but not okay for the government to save land for future generations? Two hundred years ago, there were only thirteen little colonies on the east coast of our country. Now we have chain stores in Juniper! If things continue at this rate, our great-grandchildren will be living in a world like _Soylent Green_ or _Silent Running_!"

  "_Soylent Green_." Hargrove grinned. "Good movie."

  "That's not the point. We need to think about the future --"

  "Mr. Davis," the mayor said. "I think we've had enough discussion on this subject. I appreciate your concern, but I think you're starting to get a little melodramatic. The world is not going to end because The Store is coming to Juniper. What will happen is that we'll have more jobs and a better place to shop. Period. I think you should both sit down." He looked out at the sparsely populated auditorium. "If anyone else has anything to add on this subject or has anything else to bring up, please step forward to the podium."

  Bill walked back to his seat, slumped into the chair next to Ben.

  "Game over," the editor said. "Davis zip. Store takes it in straight sets."

  Bill looked over at his friend. "Thanks."

  He drove home angry, feeling depressed. The mayor had been right. He _had_ been melodramatic, and that asshole Hargrove had gotten him off on a tangent and his whole argument had gotten derailed. He thought again that he should've written everything out ahead of time and read it.

  But it was too late now. The damage was done.

  The front of the house was dark when he arrived home. He let himself in, checked on the girls. Sam was in her room, studying. Shannon was on the phone.

  He told them both to go to sleep early, it was a school night, then walked back to the master bedroom where Ginny was riding the exercise bike and watching TV.

  "How'd it go?" she asked. "Did you stop construction and get The Store to rebuild the hillside and replant the trees?"

  He sat down on the side of the bed, took off his shoes. "There's no reason to be sarcastic."

  "Sorry." She stopped pedaling. "So what happened?"

  "What do you think? Nothing. The council's bending and spreading 'em for The Store." He shook his head. "They're so shortsighted. They're willing to ruin a way of life for short-term economic gain."

  "Then why don't you run for council?" Ginny said. "Why don't you stop complaining to me and get out and do something about it?"

  "I might do just that."

  Ginny got off the bike, walked over to the bed, and sat down next to him.

  "It's not the end of the world, you know. Don't you think you're overreacting just a little bit?"

  He smiled wryly. "That's just what our fair mayor said."

  "Things change. Yes, The Store tore down trees and everything -- and they shouldn't have done it -- but I heard that they also bought that vacant lot next to the old Checker Auto and they're going to make it into a baseball diamond.

  They're trying to do something for the town."

  "You're missing the point."

  "What is the point?"

  "Never mind."

  "Never mind? You want to --"

  "I'm all talked out," he said. "I've been talking all night. I just want to go to bed." He stood, took off his pants.

  She watched him for a moment. "Fine," she said, and there was an angry tightness in her voice. "That's just fine."

  They slept apart, not touching, on opposite sides of the bed.

  He fell sleep almost instantly.

  He dreamed of dead animals and dead bodies and the unending construction of a black building that reached miles into a polluted sky.

  FOUR

  1

  Shannon sat at one of the tables outside George's Hamburgers, nursing a Coke and trying to read her history textbook. Jake was supposed to have met her here after school, but it had already been a half hour and he hadn't shown and she was starting to get restless.

  She finally closed her book, giving up all pretext of studying. She stared across the street at the grassy lawn of the park and the dark pines of the forest beyond. Above the trees, the mountains were capped with irregular slices of white. The snow had not yet dropped below the timberline, but despite the sunny days of the past week, it had not melted off the peaks, and it was only a matter of time before winter arrived in full force.

  The snow on the mountains reminded her of the Alps, and the Alps reminded her of _The Sound of Music_, and she found herself thinking of the oldest daughter and her boyfriend in the movie. The boyfriend was a mailman or something and he would pretend to deliver letters in order to secretly meet with the girl. Shannon had always found that relationship very romantic and very sexy. Especially when the daughter sang "Sixteen, Going On Seventeen." There was something sensual in the way she danced in the gazebo, in the sly expression on her face as she twirled for the boy, letting her dress fly up, letting him see her underwear. She seemed so much older than he did at that moment, so much more experienced.

  She liked that.

  She liked to think that was the sort of relationship she and Jake had, but she knew that wasn't the case. Jake had had several girlfriends before her, whereas he was the first boy she'd ever held hands with, ever kissed, ever . . . done anything with.

  It worried her a little that he'd had other girlfriends. He'd assured her that nothing had gone beyond the hand-holding stage -- and she chose to believe him about that -- but he had no doubt told each of them that he loved them and that they'd be together forever.

  The same things he told her.

  Which meant that he could leave her the same way he'd left them.

  If he found someone better.

  That scared her. She'd seen him looking at her sister when he thought she wasn't watching, and though she told herself it didn't mean anything, was just a natural response, it still hurt. She knew that if he had been allowed to choose between the two of them, he would probably have taken Sam. Of course, who wouldn't prefer Sam? Her sister was prettier than she was, smarter. She'd be any boy's first choice.

  She didn't blame Sam, though. If anything, she blamed Jake, although that was not something she'd ever admit to or bring up with him. But Shannon did not hate her sister. Sure, she was jealous sometimes, but she admired her sister more than resented her. She wished she herself was more like Sam, but she didn't blame her sister for that.

  Some people just got lucky.

  Some people didn't.

  She herself had gotten a little bit lucky this time. She wasn't pregnant.

  Her period had come today during Algebra, and she'd never felt as relieved as she did when the cramps started.

  Which was why she was so anxious for Jake to show up.

  Where was he?

  She glanced up and down the block, saw him come out of the grocery store across the street, eating a candy bar. He saw her, waved, but made no effort to hurry across the parking lot. She wanted to run over to him, tell him the good news, but something about his unhurried, nonchalant attitude annoyed her, and she remained at her table, sipping her Coke, until he arrived.

  "So?" he said, sitting down on the rounded plastic bench across from her.

  "Any news?"

  "I'm not pregnant."

  "Thank God." He exhaled deeply, then took her hand across the table and smiled. "You had me going there for a while. I was trying to think if you should have the baby and we should get married, or find a place to get an abortion, and if we'd have to quit school, and where we'd get the money. We really lucked out on this one."

  "We have to do something, though. Before we make love again. I don't want to go through all this every time."

  His smile faded. "I'm not going to wear a rubber."

  "Then I'll . . . get something."

  "What?" he asked. "And where? And how?"

  She looked at him. Was he stupid? Hadn't he learned anything from the close call they'd just had? It sounded like he was arguing against using any form of birth control, like he wanted her to have sex with him and just take her cha
nces.

  "Fine," she said. "We'll wait till we're married, then."

  "You can't get pregnant with oral sex."

  She stared at him in shock.

  He nodded enthusiastically. "You could just suck me instead, and then we wouldn't have to worry about it."

  She didn't know what to say or how to respond. They had never performed that act before, had never even talked about it, and though she knew about oral sex, she'd always planned on avoiding it. The idea of having sperm in her mouth disgusted her, especially after she'd seen how thick and sticky and snotlike it was, and she figured that if Jake really loved her, he would never ask her to do that.

  "That way," he said, "we could still have sex, we wouldn't have to worry about a junior coming along, and I wouldn't have to wear a rubber."

  "What's wrong with a condom?"

  "I don't want to have anything between us."

  So you'd rather just use my mouth as a sperm receptacle? she thought. You don't care about my feelings at all? A condom's uncomfortable, so you want me to give up having my orgasm and be grateful that I get to make you have one?

  But she said nothing.

  He squeezed her hand. "I think it's more romantic if there's nothing between us."

  She forced herself to smile, though she felt sick inside. "Me, too," she said.

  Her parents were asleep, and she had just finished chronicling the series of misadventures that had made up today and was hiding her journal beneath her mattress when Samantha walked into the room.

  "Hey," Shannon said, looking up.

  "Hey." Samantha sat down on the edge of the bed.

  Something was wrong. Sam didn't just come into her room to hang out. When her sister dropped by it was always for a reason. She wanted to borrow something. Or she needed Shannon to help her lift something. Or she wanted to complain about the messiness of the bathroom.

  She did not just come by to chat.

  Samantha looked around the room. "Is there anything you want to talk about?" she asked.