Block's Arc

Chapter 5 of 6

Monday morning Block opened the register drawer and found more cash than the store had held in a year. He counted it twice. Eleven hundred and forty dollars over a normal Friday. He set aside the float and slid the rest into a bank bag. Then he wrote the number in the notebook next to the rental count and underlined both. The district rep had said he could bring the case back to the region. A count and a bank bag would sit better in a manager's hand than a folder alone. Block drove the deposit to the bank before he opened the doors. The teller stamped the slip. He tucked the copy into the notebook and drove back. The store looked the same from the curb. Blue awning, yellow sign, poster frames on either side of the glass. He unlocked the door and flipped the sign to OPEN. By noon the shelves told him what the money had cost. The new release wall had holes two rows deep. The kids section was half air. The previously viewed bin, which he kept stocked at three hundred, held sixty tapes. He walked every aisle with the scanner and marked the gaps. Two hundred and eighty titles out. Regular Monday returns would cover maybe a third. He'd promised three free tapes a member for a week, not a night. The promotion had four days left. He called the district office at one. He asked for a rush restock against the store's own sales. The clerk on the line put him on hold, came back, and said district would not front inventory to a store flagged for closure. Block asked for the rep by name. The rep was out. Block left the rental count and the deposit figure on voicemail. He hung up and stood behind the counter with the receiver still in his hand. The drop bin thumped. A returned tape slid down the chute. Block walked over, lifted the flap, and pulled out four cases. A woman he did not know stood on the other side of the glass with two more in her arms. She came in and set them on the counter. She said her neighbor had told her about Friday. She asked if the deal was still on. Block looked at the empty rows behind her. He said yes. He scanned her card and let her walk the thin aisles. She left with three tapes he could not replace. By close the shelves were worse. Block sat on the floor behind the counter and opened the notebook. He wrote the day's count. He wrote the deposit. Under both he wrote: NO RESTOCK. Then he wrote the next line and stared at it. FOUR DAYS OF PROMO. EMPTY SHELVES BY WEDNESDAY. The money was real. The rep had his number. But the store he was selling was disappearing off its own walls.