Bill wanted to read each document before signing, but he felt uncomfortable being alone with King, being this close to him, and after giving each page a cursory glance to make sure there was nothing obviously tricky or unusual there, he scrawled his signature on the appropriate lines and handed the pages to the CEO.
King clapped him on the back. 'You're one of us!' he said. 'You're now part of The Store!'
The elevator door opened, and a group of business-suited yes-men, wearing happy smiles and party hats, streamed into the boardroom and congratulated Bill, shaking his hand and patting him on the back before taking their places around the table. The elevator doors opened again, and a phalanx of bikini-clad women pushed steaming food carts into the room.
King beamed. 'Breakfast time!' he announced. 'Eat up! We have a full day ahead of us!'
He held up a glass of orange juice. 'A toast to Bill Davis, our newest Store manager!'
An hour later, they were in the black jet, on their way back to Phoenix.
He and King and an entourage of the yes-men. King chatted amiably on the two hour flight, talking of the future, expansion, the day when any city he flew over, anywhere in the country, would be home to The Store. He sat gracefully on an elegantly designed chair, dressed impeccably, but he looked as though he was trying to be something he wasn't, and his strange features and unnatural skin seemed even more obvious and noticeable against the mundane background of the airplane interior.
It was a monologue, not a dialogue, and for the most part Bill listened without speaking. He found himself rerunning the events of last night over and over again in his mind. How could he possibly face Ginny after what he had done?
He had failed her; he had betrayed her. He'd been corrupted by The Store. He had gone to Dallas to fight it and had become part of it. He had been contaminated and infected and he'd defected to the enemy.
No, that wasn't true. He had the opportunity now to do a lot of good for Juniper. He could reverse the damage that had been done to the town, could implement new policies, could overturn the destructive, divisive decisions that had left the community in the state that it was today. He was working within the system now instead of outside it, and that would enable him to accomplish a hell of a lot more than he would otherwise be able to do. He had made the right decision. He had not sold out.
But he had still betrayed Ginny.
No rationalization that he was working for the greater good could ever excuse that.
The end did not justify the means.
He thought of her lying in bed, alone, asleep, waiting for him, praying that he returned safely, blindly trusting him.
What would he say to her? What could he do to make it up to her? How would he ever deserve her again?
He realized that he was crying only when King leaned over and whispered, 'Knock it off. You're acting like a pussy.'
He stared at the CEO, wiped his eyes and nodded, looking out the window.
'Be a man,' King said. 'Act like a manager.'
It was midmorning when they landed at Sky Harbor, and they took a limo from Phoenix to Juniper. He pretended to sleep on the ride over, not wanting to talk, but the CEO either knew he was faking or didn't care, and he continued to chatter nonstop all the way there.
Juniper.
It had changed in his absence. Not really changed, not physically, but there was a difference now. It no longer seemed like a dying town, like a lost cause. He no longer felt powerless to stop its decline. He had power now, and rather than looking like a shell of its former self, he saw the town as a blank canvas, a place that could not only equal but surpass what it had been before.
He wanted to go home first, to see Ginny and Shannon, make sure they were all right _alive_
-- but the limo drove them straight to The Store. King smiled to himself as they passed the abandoned Ford dealership, chuckled as they drove past an empty feed-and-grain wholesaler.
It was just as well, Bill thought. He didn't know if he was ready to face Ginny yet, anyway. He needed more time to prepare himself, to figure out what he was going to say and what he was going to do and how he was going to act.
King's coming had obviously been announced in advance, and The Store was closed, the parking lot empty and closed off. Two uniformed guards pulled open a barricade to let the limo pass, and the long car moved slowly between twin rows of employees lined up in a path to the front entrance. The employees were holding balloons and signs, throwing confetti, cheering wildly. This was a big event, and seemingly every employee who worked for The Store was there. Bill looked carefully through the window at the passing faces, and his muscles grew tense as he saw no sign of his daughters.
'I had Shannon fired,' King said, as if reading his thoughts. 'I thought that would make you happy.'
'What about Sam?'
'I've transferred her to the corporate office. She's too valuable to lose.'
The limo pulled to a stop in front of the entrance, and Bill slid across the seat and opened the door, getting out of the car.
King got out on the opposite side, the side facing The Store, and a huge cheer went up as employees gathered around him, fawning over him, asking for his autograph, trying to touch him. He smiled graciously, magnanimously, and he motioned for Bill to join him as he walked toward the open doors of the building.
Bill felt exhilarated as the adulation expanded to include him. He liked the warm greetings, the cheers, the slavishly obsequious behavior of his new underlings. It felt good to be adored, the object of attention, and he smiled and waved at the rejoicing employees. In the back of his mind was the thought that these were the same employees who had so disdained him and his wife, who had made their lives a living hell, and the fact that he was now their lord and master gratified him immensely.
The celebration stopped the second they walked into The Store. As if on cue, employees placed their banners and balloons and confetti into a lidded bin just inside the door and scurried off to their assigned positions in their individual departments. The change was too abrupt, too complete. Perhaps the employees were just trying to demonstrate their efficiency. Perhaps they really had been excited to see them and were now just as intent on proving what good workers they were, but Bill could not help wondering how much of it was genuine and how much of it had been staged by Mr. Lamb.
Mr. Lamb.
The personnel manager stood nervously off to the side, flanked by Walker and Keyes, waiting for an acknowledgment from Newman King.
King ignored all of them.
He walked slowly up the main aisle, an arm clasped around Bill's shoulder.
There were strong muscles in that arm -- Bill could feel them -- and beneath the muscles, in unusual places, in places they should not have been, were bones. Too many bones.
But it felt good to be walking with King, good to return triumphant to the site of his defeat, and he found that he was proud to walk beside the CEO.
'You will have complete autonomy,' King said. 'You can hire and fire whomever you want.' He stopped walking, paused, smiled. 'You can _terminate_ whomever you want.'
They were walking again, faster this time. The yes-men from the plane, who'd driven to Juniper in a series of cars behind them, were following Bill.
Lamb, Walker, and Keyes were following them.
King stopped before a door in the wall. 'The manager's office,' he said.
'_Your_ office.' He frowned, looking over Bill's head. 'What are you three doing here? Did I ask you to tag along with us?'
Bill turned around, saw Mr. Lamb shaking his head nervously. 'No, sir. I
just thought --'
'Don't think. It's not your strong suit.' He pointed toward the Customer Service counter at the far end of The Store. 'Back to your offices. Back to work. Now.'
All three men were bowing. 'Yes, sir,' they said in unison. 'Yes, sir.'
'Fuck off!' King yelled.
