Chapter Six: Placing Bets

“Ten bucks says he quits by Thursday.”

Brenda’s voice carried through the breakroom like she was announcing the evening news. She leaned against the vending machine, one foot crossed over the other, a half-eaten granola bar in her hand.

Marcus looked up from the lunch table, where he was artfully stacking plastic forks into a miniature Eiffel Tower. “Thursday? Please. He’s gone by tomorrow. You saw him trying to unlock the stockroom. Like watching a toddler wrestle a Rubik’s Cube.”

Across the room, Dan—the lanky guy from tech—grunted in agreement without looking up from his phone. “Five bucks says he calls out before his second shift.”

Callie sipped her coffee and kept her eyes on the employee handbook she wasn’t really reading. She should have known. Eli had been too eager, too chipper. That kind of optimism triggered people around here like fire alarms.

Brenda tossed a crumpled napkin into the trash and missed. “What about you, Callie? Wanna get in on the pool?”

“Nope,” she said without looking up.

“Come on,” Marcus nudged. “You’ve had aisle time with him. What’s your bet?”

Callie closed the handbook. “That you all have too much time on your hands.”

“Valid,” Brenda said. “But also, cowardly.”

Callie gave her a slow blink that communicated exactly how much she didn’t care. But internally? She wasn’t betting because she wasn’t sure. Eli was… unexpected. Too friendly, too persistent, and way too good at dodging her sarcasm. That didn’t mean he’d stick around, though. This job had eaten better people alive.

Still, something about him—

The door creaked open. Speak of the overly chipper devil.

Eli stepped into the breakroom with a half-smile and a fresh name tag that still had the backing paper stuck to the edge. “Morning, team.”

No one responded. Brenda bit her lip to suppress a laugh.

He looked around, then made a show of tapping his chest. “Do I have something on my shirt, or is this just the traditional BuyMore welcome?”

“Welcome’s a strong word,” Callie muttered.

Eli grinned. “I’m choosing to believe that’s a yes.”

Brenda raised her coffee cup. “Hey, New Guy, I give you three days. Try not to cry in the mop closet. We already have a waiting list.”

Eli blinked. “Is… that a threat or a hazing ritual?”

Marcus leaned back in his chair. “Neither. It's just odds.”

“I love odds,” Eli said. “What are mine?”

“Bad,” Dan mumbled.

Eli clutched his heart. “Wow. You guys are really something. What a nurturing environment.”

Callie stood, brushing off her pants. “Enough entertainment. Eli, you’re with me today.”

He blinked. “I am?”

“You’re in training, aren’t you?”

Brenda fake-gasped. “They assigned you as his trainer? Who’d you piss off in management?”

Callie ignored her. “Let’s go, Romeo. Time to learn where we keep the toilet brushes.”

Eli followed her out of the breakroom, giving the others a cheeky salute on the way. “Don’t wait up.”

Training a new hire at BuyMore was less about systems and more about survival. Callie didn’t sugarcoat it. She didn’t have the patience for hand-holding or second chances. Her method was simple: show them once, then see if they sink or swim.

They started in seasonal.

“Stacking,” she said, motioning to the scattered bins of summer clearance. “You’ve done it before. Use common sense. Heaviest at the bottom, labels facing out. Don’t be dumb.”

Eli squatted down next to a half-empty crate of beach towels. “I’ll try to keep the dumb to a minimum.”

“That’d be a first around here.”

He smirked but didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he worked in silence for a few minutes, organizing the shelves with surprising efficiency. Callie watched out of the corner of her eye, pretending to be busy scanning tags.

“Brenda thinks you’ll cry,” she said after a while.

“Brenda also thinks microwaving tuna is acceptable behavior.”

Callie stifled a laugh. Just barely.

“I’m not easily discouraged,” Eli added, placing a pack of inflatable pool rings on the top shelf. “Even by tuna-scented bullying.”

She eyed him. “Why this job? You don’t seem like the retail type.”

“I don’t seem like the...?” He looked down at himself. “I’ve got khakis. I smile at customers. I know what SKU stands for.”

“That’s a low bar.”

He straightened. “Alright, fine. I needed a job. Flexible hours. Not too soul-crushing. This place was hiring.”

“That explains why you applied,” she said. “Doesn’t explain why you’re still here.”

“Too early to make my dramatic exit,” he said with a shrug. “Also, I like the company.”

Callie gave him a skeptical look.

“You, specifically,” he added. “Though I’ll admit the mop closet trauma stories are a bonus.”

She shook her head and moved on. “Let’s do front-facing.”

They hit home goods next, where she taught him the fine art of fluffing throw pillows to look “aggressively untouched.” Then the art of answering customer questions without actually promising anything, and the secret trick to resetting the price scanners when they blinked out.

Eli paid attention. Actually paid attention. He didn’t interrupt. He asked smart questions. And he only knocked over one display, which was honestly a BuyMore record.

By the time they broke for lunch, Callie was… annoyed.

Because he wasn’t terrible.

Because he wasn’t quitting.

And because every time he said something ridiculous like “aggressively untouched,” she caught herself almost enjoying it.

Later, while rearranging an endcap of laundry detergent, she caught him watching her.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “Just noticing something.”

“What?”

“You’re good at this. Training, I mean.”

She snorted. “I’m not.”

“You are. You just hide it behind this tough exterior. Like a porcupine with a clipboard.”

Callie crossed her arms. “Did you just call me a porcupine?”

“Affectionately.”

“You’re weird.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

A pause.

Then she turned back to the shelves. “We’re done here. Go pull restock bins from the back. I’ll meet you at checkout in ten.”

“Yes, boss.”

She walked away before he could see her smirk.

Ten minutes later, she found him near the registers with two bins and a slightly sweaty look of triumph.

“I didn’t drop anything,” he said proudly.

“Don’t brag too soon. You’ve still got to survive rush hour.”

“Is that an official term?”

“You’ll know it when it hits. Customers appear out of nowhere. The air smells like panic and unscanned coupons.”

He grinned. “Will you protect me?”

“No.”

That made him laugh again—loud and full, the kind that made people turn their heads.

Marcus, now stationed at register three, leaned over and said under his breath, “You training him or dating him?”

Callie’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want me to short-sheet your apron again?”

He zipped it. Wise.

By the time closing rolled around, Eli was dragging, but he hadn’t quit. He hadn’t even complained.

Brenda noticed.

“So,” she said as they all gathered in the breakroom again, “how’d your new protégé do?”

Callie shrugged. “Didn’t set anything on fire.”

Brenda arched an eyebrow. “High praise.”

Eli, now sipping on a bottle of neon blue sports drink, pointed at her. “See? Progress.”

Dan raised his phone. “I’m adjusting the pool odds. He makes it to Friday.”

Callie rolled her eyes but didn’t correct him.

As everyone filtered out, Brenda pulled her aside and whispered, “You know he’s not terrible, right?”

“I noticed.”

Brenda smiled. “Don’t pretend you’re not enjoying this.”

Callie didn’t answer.

Because she was.

And that was the problem.

As they stepped out into the parking lot again, Eli nudged her lightly with his elbow. “So... honest answer. How’d I do?”

“You were fine.”

“That sounded almost like a compliment.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

They walked in silence for a moment.

Then he asked, “Am I really that much of a joke to everyone?”

She looked over at him.

“No. They just—this place chews through people. You last a week, you become furniture.”

“Is that the goal? Furniture?”

“In retail? Absolutely.”

He laughed. “Alright. Then I guess I’ve got something to aspire to.”

Callie stopped at the edge of the sidewalk, watching him a beat longer than necessary.

“You did fine today,” she said.

Eli smiled. “Thanks, porcupine.”

She groaned. “I take it back.”

But she was still smiling when she turned away.

And Eli noticed.