Chapter Text
Tricia hesitated at the store entrance. She couldn’t see inside behind the mannequins dressed in low-rise skirts and off-the-shoulder sequined tops, but she could already smell the cheap body sprays and the sickly sweet scent of the lip glosses they sold from her vantage point outside the glass doors. It was making her stomach, which was already upset from having to do this, roll unpleasantly.
Despite the meager AC that was blowing through this shitty mall, Tricia had been sweating bullets since she walked in. The t-shirt under her denim jacket was starting to stick to her back in a way that would be uncomfortable if she wasn’t trying desperately to ignore it. She was used to it at this point in her life.
The hand holding her resume was starting to sweat, too, dampening it slightly. It was going to be so fucking embarrassing handing it to them all wet, but she didn’t have another copy with her, so it would have to do.
Her other hand was fisted in the pocket of her jacket. She tightened it, shoving it further into the pocket right up against where she’d just reinforced it with embroidery thread. It was a nervous habit she’d had for as long as she could remember, and she had to learn quickly to start repairing the holes that always seemed to appear in her jacket pockets. It also helped to play with the embroidery thread, pulling apart the knots until it was long enough to wrap around her fist. It was an endless cycle of repairing and destroying.
Tricia tried desperately to recall the advice that her mom had given her over the phone yesterday, urging her to just go in there and “be herself” and she’d get the job. That would be comforting if it weren’t for the fact that Tricia’s self was usually off-putting to most people, especially women, who happened to be the main demographic of this store. She was so royally screwed.
She had to get this job. She had to. It was either this or moving back home, which was just not an option. Going back to living with her overbearing mom and her constant needling would be complete hell. An utter defeat. A reversal of everything that Tricia had been working toward when she had moved out after high school.
So, going into the store was her only choice here. She shoved her fist back into her pocket once again, relishing in the little relief that it gave her, and headed inside.
The place looked like the ideal place to shop for a twelve-year-old girl, with sequins and animal prints covering all the items on the racks and walls. They sold everything from clothing to jewelry, to bedding, to makeup, and even candy that was marketed to girls. Tricia wasn’t quite sure what made it candy for girls, but there it was, all pink and purple colored.
Tricia hadn’t set foot into this store since she had hit puberty, but the sights were familiar to her. The trends had changed, sure, but the feeling of inadequacy she got from this store's energy hadn’t. It reminded her too much of middle school. It was enough to make her want to flee, but she held out. Adolescent trauma aside, she had to get this job. She reminded herself of it over and over again like a mantra in her head.
Her mom had made her shop here when she was younger. She hoped that maybe if Tricia hung around where other girls her age hung out or looked and dressed the way that they did, then she might make some friends. It didn’t work, but at least Tricia usually got a soft pretzel afterward from the booth across from the store. That made up for having to try on uncomfortable clothes with her mom.
Presently, Tricia weaved her way through the aisles to the register she knew was in the back while trying not to knock over the giant unicorn plushies or the huge display of Lip Smackers. There didn’t seem to be a single employee in sight, which was promising for someone so desperate to get a job here.
Finally, after nearly tripping over a mannequin with gauchos and a sequined belt, the register was in sight. There was a girl who looked to be around her age sitting there with curly dark hair that obscured her eyes, flipping through a book, and seemingly completely unaware that Tricia had come into the store.
It wasn’t until Tricia stopped in front of the counter that the other girl looked up from her book at all. Her name tag read ‘Jo,’ and it was affixed to the front of her Sleater Kinney t-shirt. Huh, All Hands on the Bad One. She could dig that. Tricia felt some comfort in this. At the very least, her future coworkers might have some real taste, and that seemed to slightly settle Tricia’s upset stomach.
It took everything in her not to comment on the shirt. Her mom had made sure to remind her that she shouldn’t talk too much about her music right away so as not to scare anyone off. Tricia tried to assure her mother that this wouldn’t be a problem and that she was an adult now who was familiar with social etiquette.
Yet, she still found herself struggling to maintain her brain-to-mouth connection so as not to burst out and say anything really stupid like going on a four-minute rant about how the album hadn’t been the band selling out, but it was actually some of their most experimental work yet with longer songs and-- She shuddered to think where that rant was going even within her own head. Thank god for some learned self-control.
Jo stared at her for a moment before seeming to remember that she was on the clock, quickly closing her book and straightening her back. It was clear she was slipping into her customer service mode.
She still looked just as bored as she recited what was probably the script she had been given, “Welcome to Everything Nice, where we have everything nice that a girl could ever need. My name is Jo. How can I help you today?”
Tricia realized that it was her turn to speak up now, so she cleared her throat and shoved her resume in Jo’s direction, dropping it on the counter. “Hello, I’m Tricia," she managed easily. All that time practicing greetings with her mom after school was finally paying off. "I'm here for the job. It says you guys are hiring.” She pointed a thumb toward where she thought the sign was hanging on the glass outside the store.
Jo nodded and looked down at the damp resume sitting there. The ink had started to bleed slightly where Tricia had been gripping it. There went the 30 cents that she had paid to have it printed at the public library. At least it was still somewhat legible. Kind of.
Tricia had listed everything she could think of in terms of job experience, which didn’t look like a lot on paper, but she hoped that it was enough to land her this job. It was hard trying to come up with something she didn’t have much of.
“So, Tricia,” Jo started, brushing one of those curled ringlets behind her ear while she went down the resume, “You worked at a sandwich shop up until a few months ago, and before that, babysitting and as a cashier at a grocery store.” She squinted down at where the ink had bled, probably trying to make out the names of Tricia’s references.
“I’m familiar with a register if that’s what you’re asking,” Tricia cut in, and then cringed at herself, hoping that she wasn’t coming off too abrasive.
Jo smiled just slightly, the ends of her mouth turning up. That was something. “Good,” she said. “That’s just about the only requirement we have here.”
Tricia remembered the other piece of advice her mom had given her, and then quickly added, “I also love Everything Nice, and I’m passionate about helping young girls find their style.” Hopefully, that seemed genuine because she really didn’t want to blow this for herself.
Jo’s eyebrow quirked up in disbelief. She was looking at Tricia like she’d grown a second head. That didn’t bode well. “Uh, okay. Not really a job requirement, but that’s great, I guess.” She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “Honestly, we’ll take anyone with a pulse at this point since we’re so understaffed, so you’re in luck.” Fuck yes. She was so in.
Jo put her resume somewhere behind the counter as she added, “You just have to meet with my manager to make it official, but I’m sure she’ll say yes to you.” Never mind. Tricia was so screwed.
Another person to meet meant another chance for Tricia to fuck this all up. She nodded blindly at Jo because what else was there to do? But inside, she was starting to melt down.
Tricia thought she might as well get her comment in since she might not see Jo again to tell her if she fucked this all up with the manager. So, against her mother’s advice, Tricia found herself saying, “I like your Sleater-Kinney shirt, by the way." At least she was paying Jo a compliment. When her mother made her memorize conversation scripts, complimenting someone was always up there as one of the best ways to start a conversation. "I saw them a few years ago, and it was life-changing watching Carrie Brownstein play.” Her mother taught her that sharing an on-topic anecdote was also appropriate.
God, even when she was trying to break out of that mold, she was still following that advice to a tee. It wasn't fair that this stuff was second nature to other people, and Tricia had to spend hours understanding the intricacies of social etiquette.
Jo’s eyes lit up, more alert than Tricia had seen her so far, and she leaned over the counter toward Tricia in disbelief. “Holy shit, you got to actually see them?” Clearly it worked, though, with as excited as Jo seemed.
Tricia couldn’t believe that Jo was okay with her talking about music. Now that Pandora’s box had been opened, she continued, “I snuck in since it was an eighteen-plus show, but I had to see them, you know?”
Jo nodded. “Fuck yeah. Totally worth it! God, I wish I had seen them. I’ve mostly just been to a few basement shows here and there. We go out sometimes, me and the other girls who work here, just to see the local scene bands play. It’s good shit. You should come sometime since you’re probably going to be my coworker now.”
Jo was smiling at her, yet Tricia felt her stomach sink. Who was she kidding here, trying to talk to Jo? Jo didn’t know what she was like or how she could get. Tricia appreciated the invitation, and in theory, she loved the idea of going out with all her new coworkers at the store to see bands together. It was perfect.
But Tricia knew that it wasn’t going to work. She didn’t want to get her hopes up or Jo’s.
She struggled for a minute, trying to find something to say while Jo stared at her, her smile starting to fall slightly the longer Tricia made her wait.
“Thanks,” she said. At least she remembered her manners. Her mother would be so proud. “When did you say your manager was coming in?” she asked.
***
Meeting new people had never been Tricia’s strong suit. No, scratch that. People, in general, had never been her strong suit. Mostly anything involving social interaction for Tricia was bound to end up crashing and burning.
That isn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy being around people, because she did. It was just that they didn’t always enjoy being around her. Whether it was talking about her interests too much, being too abrupt with people without noticing, or just not understanding their jokes, it was always that she was on the outs with everyone else.
It wasn't for lack of trying. Tricia spent most of elementary and middle school working every day after school with her mom on her social skills. She had Tricia memorizing conversation scripts, roleplaying with her siblings, and attending just about any social group that she could get her into.
All of it definitely helped, decreasing the number of meltdowns she had and the fights that she got into with her classmates. It didn't really make her any friends, though. Since all of her social knowledge came from a middle-aged (albeit incredibly helpful) woman, she wasn't the easiest for her peers to relate to.
Tricia became the last one picked for every team, and everyone avoided her like the plague in class or on the playground. It was okay, though; she was more than happy to spend time in her own little world.
Once she found music, it was all she thought of, talked about, and read about. Even her own family got tired quickly of listening to her go on and on about it.
It became easier to just distance herself from others. There was no way you could face rejection or embarrassment when you didn’t even try to interact. She interacted with her family, her coworkers, and a few people she’d met at shows out of necessity. That was it.
She was always looking on at everyone else and wondering how they were able to socialize seemingly with ease, whereas it took her years to try to perfect it. Even now, though, she still struggles. It was so humiliating to be a nineteen-year-old adult who still gets advice from her mom on what’s appropriate to say.
She had been so happy to leave high school behind after graduation. There were far fewer people outside those walls who had any idea just how much she had embarrassed herself for the first eighteen years of her life. She could start over in a way.
This was why Tricia was downright terrified when Jo told her to come back to the store in an hour when the manager, Andy, would be there. She didn’t understand why a manager wasn’t present in the first place or why Jo was the only employee there, but maybe that was just a testament to the fact that they were just that desperate.
So there she was, even sweatier than she had been before meeting Jo and trembling slightly, finishing a hard-earned Auntie Annie’s pretzel the size of her head in one of the booths at the food court. It was a calming ritual, reminding her of when her mom used to buy them for her.
Her hat was pulled down over her eyes, blocking out most of the foot traffic from her view. It was easier this way. She could pretend it was just her, alone in her apartment and far away from all of the people, their noises, and the harsh fluorescent lighting of this godforsaken mall. Tricia tried not to think too hard about meeting this manager in less than five minutes, according to her watch.
She wished that she had enough time to call her mom and go over what she was supposed to say again, but she quickly decided that not only would that be mortifying for her, but it would also confirm for her already smug mother that she needed the help. That was just not something that she was willing to do unless she got desperate. Tricia needed to prove that she could do this by herself.
After Jo had told her that she would need to come back to meet the manager, Tricia had nodded and promised to come back in an hour and then slipped out of the store as quickly as possible to avoid any chances of messing up this potential job opportunity. Jo had seemed nice enough, though, and that was the only thing that was keeping her from pacing around or doing that calming breathing her mom always made her practice.
She thought about maybe sticking around and talking to Jo for a while, and maybe talking music more until Andy got there. But she knew better than that. Her skills were beyond rusty, and she couldn’t risk this job opportunity.
She had tried to take a look around the Hot Topic when she had escaped Everything Nice, hoping that it would be a nice distraction. It was someplace that was at least familiar, and that had always been her go-to for pins for her denim jacket.
But when she walked in, she realized she knew the guy at the register from some basement shows she’d been to in high school. She was pretty sure she had kicked him in the balls junior year for saying that girl bands didn’t belong in the hardcore scene.
Despite her slight social aversion, she was not someone who backed down when people disrespected her or the things that she loved. That went doubly for guys who were assholes to her at shows. So when they mouthed off to her or other girls, Tricia didn’t hesitate to put them in their place.
However, he was not someone that she wanted to confront again anytime soon, so she fled, pissed that these jerks had taken the Hot Topic from her. Was nothing sacred anymore?
That was how she had found herself overwhelmed and hiding in the booth with her soft pretzel. She justified the expense to her already extremely limited budget, forced on her by her unemployment, by saying that it was essential to try to calm her nerves enough to get this job. She could deal with the economic fallout later.
She ate the rest of it as fast as she could and hightailed it back to Everything Nice. It only took some slight finesse to weave around the mall tweens, who definitely should have had some parental supervision with the way that they were running around. It made her even more aware of just how old she felt now in comparison to them.
Tricia made it back into Everything Nice with a full minute to spare, just as Jo was presumably clocking out. They nearly ran into each other in the aisle of fuzzy pillows with Jo’s rush to leave and Tricia’s rush to make it back on time. Jo didn’t have her name tag on anymore, and she had a tote bag slung over her shoulder.
Jo smiled at her again. “Oh, you’re back.” Tricia was confused. Of course, she’d be back. Jo had told her to come back, so she did. Jo must have been able to see her confusion because she added, “No, I just meant, I thought you took one look at this place and realized that you were way too cool for it.”
Oh. That was… not what she had been expecting. Tricia had been bracing for Jo to make fun of her, or worse, say that the position had already been filled. She wasn’t used to other girls calling her cool, especially one who seemed pretty damn cool herself.
Jo reached out to point at one of the patches on the pocket of Tricia’s denim jacket. “I mean, anybody with a Ziggy Stardust patch is way too cool for this place by default.” Tricia felt like she was going to explode.
She hoped she was getting this job now, if it meant being able to talk about good music with her coworkers. No one she had ever met got music like Tricia did. It didn’t mean nearly as much to everyone else in her life as it did to her.
Jo’s finger moved towards the homemade pins that Tricia had crafted a few years ago with her button maker of the Tribe 8 band logo and the pink triangle. On reflex, she tensed and once again braced herself for the comments that she had heard practically since puberty. She would already be alienated here, and she hadn’t even been hired yet.
Instead, Jo’s smile just grew even wider. “I think Andy will like you,” she added cryptically before leaving Tricia standing there, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Tricia was never one for deciphering sarcasm, so she had no idea if Jo was being genuine or not.
It had to mean something, though, that Jo had been able to recognize those pins for what they were. The only people who were able to identify those were other people like her. That was what they were for, anyway, subtle enough that those who knew could understand and those who didn’t wouldn’t even notice.
At least, maybe Jo would be a potential friend even if this job didn’t pan out, since it seemed like they may have more than just music in common. She could see herself becoming fast friends with her.
Tricia shoved her fist back into her pocket right up against the reinforced edges of it, giving herself just the slightest bit of comfort, playing with the loose piece of thread again. She braced herself to meet this manager.
When the woman at the register finally came into view, she was not at all what Tricia had been expecting. Before Jo’s comment to her, Tricia had been picturing the girliest of girls, someone perky enough to be incredibly passionate about the store and the items it sold, probably wearing a lot of their merchandise. That was not what Andy looked like at all.
Her shoulder-length brown hair was falling into her eyes as she busied herself with something in the register drawer, but Tricia could see even from where she was standing that she had a piercing in the middle of her chin and glasses similar to her own.
She looked like she was a few years older than Tricia, maybe in her mid-twenties. She was wearing a dark t-shirt that hung loosely off her frame, but the short sleeves revealed intricate tattoos that wrapped around her forearms. She looked tough, like she could kick some ass if she needed to.
Tricia tried to see this all as a good sign that her future manager might be a frankly badass-looking punk woman, but she was now worried about coming off as the try-hard nineteen-year-old that she often found herself acting like. It was like she was always trying to make up for something that she had convinced herself that she was missing.
The scene never felt big enough for girls like her, who didn’t know how to carve out spaces for themselves. It was meant for those like Andy, who looked like they sought out and got what they wanted very easily.
Tricia tried her best not to be intimidated by her as she approached the counter. She forced herself to smile and breathe. This was fine. She would be fine. Her mom was wrong. She could do this.
Andy looked up from the register drawer, and Tricia could feel the look she was giving her. It was a once-over that was noticeable enough that it made her feel nervous all over again. Andy’s eyes landed on the pins of her jacket like Jo’s had, and only then did she start to smile.
She held out a hand in Tricia’s direction. “Hi, I’m Andy, the manager here. I think Jo already told you a little bit about me.” Tricia nodded and shook Andy's hand. She hoped that the other woman couldn’t feel how sweaty she was.
“I took a look at your resume before Jo left, and it looked great. She mentioned that you had register experience.” It wasn’t a question, but Andy paused and looked at her expectantly, like she was waiting for an answer.
“Uh, yeah,” Tricia stumbled to remember the speech that she had rehearsed for this moment. “I’m looking for a job where I can help girls find their styles and obtain retail experience, and I believe that I would be a great addition to your staff.”
Andy’s eyes narrowed at her. Fuck, had she done something wrong? She didn’t think that she had sounded too robotic with that speech, but she wasn’t always the best judge of her own character.
“Well, that’s good, I guess. Glad you’re passionate about the job.” Andy sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I don’t know if Jo told you, but we’re pretty desperate at this point, and we’ll take anyone interested. So, if you want it, you’re in. What’s your availability?”
Fuck. Yes. All the horrible calls with her mom, training for this moment, had finally paid off.
She spent the rest of Andy’s shift being shown around the store and all the different facets of her new job. Andy even made her a nametag that she could wear on her first shift. It felt completely surreal. She couldn’t wait to rub it in her mom’s face on the phone later.
She and Andy had decided that she would work Tuesdays to Fridays and then Saturdays, their busiest day of the week. It was exactly as Tricia had assumed. They were incredibly short-staffed, and she would be with Andy or Jo most days, except Saturdays, when she would share the shift with another girl that Andy told her she would meet later.
In total, there were five girls who worked at Everything Nice. Well, six now, including Tricia. That didn’t sound too bad to her, considering that she had far more coworkers at the grocery store she’d worked at in high school. She just hoped that this job didn’t end as quickly as her job there did.
She got along very well with Andy, too. They fell into an easy rhythm, alternating between talking about the store and different bands. Andy was into harder stuff than Tricia was, but they found some intersections with their music tastes.
Andy finally asked her about the Tribe 8 pin and what Tricia’s favorite album was. (It was easy, Fist City, obviously.) She confessed to Tricia that she’d tried to sneak into their show in Wisconsin when she was 15, but they wouldn’t let her in. Tricia was so jealous that Andy had gotten that close to them, but even more so, she was so excited that she was going to be working with someone who even knew who they were.
Tricia tried to hold back initially, following her mother’s advice of not dominating conversations, but Andy would just push right back with her own opinions. Tricia felt like she had died and gone to heaven. Maybe this job wouldn’t be so bad.
Andy had smiled at her as she waxed and waned about her various girl band opinions, telling Tricia, “I see now why Jo said we’d get along. She knew you’d be a good fit with the team.”
Tricia was sure that her face had gone bright red at the comment, and she wasn’t quite sure how to respond. She just smiled back at Andy.
There weren’t even that many customers who came in while they talked. Granted, it was the middle of the day on a weekday, but considering it was Friday in the summer, Tricia expected it to be more populated. That was promising.
When Andy had to close up the store, she showed Tricia how to do it. She promised her that someone would be with her for her first few shifts, but said that it was good to start learning the routines early. This was something Tricia was good at. She could learn something quickly once she knew the steps. It was how she had mastered so many instruments in high school band class. Once you knew the basics of it, it was easy.
As they were pulling down the metal grate to lock the store, Andy turned to her and asked, “Hey, would you maybe want to go out later tonight with me and a few other girls from the store? We usually meet up on Fridays after work at this all-ages venue to see a couple of bands perform. They’re pretty shitty, but the drinks are cheap for Jo and the others, and the admission is only a few bucks. Plus, you can get to know some of us better.”
Tricia considered it. She’d been to enough basement shows to know sort of what to expect, but she had never been to an actual venue before, as she was too scared about sneaking in underage. On the other hand, Andy and Jo seemed nice and easy to get along with, and Andy was right, it would be easier to get to know them outside the confines of the store. If it was bad, then at least she would have gotten to hear some live music.
So she found herself exchanging phone numbers with her new manager. Something that she didn't even think was possible when she stepped out of her apartment this morning.
"Do you need a ride?" Andy asked after Tricia had put her contact information into her phone.
Tricia shook her head. "That's okay. I think that place is on the bus route, so I should be able to ride it there and back if I don't stay too late. Or I can walk."
Andy looked at her as if she'd grown another head. "Oh hell no. I'm not letting you take the city bus alone after dark. Jo can pick you up if you text me your address." So Tricia nodded along and agreed to let Jo pick her up.
Now, she really couldn’t wait to rub this in her mom’s face. A job, potential new friends, and a chance to talk about her favorite thing in the whole world with these potential new friends? Tricia was pretty sure that it didn’t get any better than this.