stopped by. Mr. Becker wanted her to give me some beauty tips. While
she was showing me her different makeup applicators, the woman, who
had stiff platinum hair and eyelashes tarred in mascara, told me I must
be earning a truckload in commissions. When I asked her what she
meant, she said that in addition to her forty-dollar-a-week salary, she
made 10 percent on every sale. Her commissions were sometimes double
her salary. "Hell, welfare'll get you more than forty bucks a week," she
said. "If you're not getting commissions, Becker's stiffing you."
When I asked Mr. Becker about commissions, he said they were for
salespeople and I was just an assistant. The next day, when Mr. Becker
went off to the Mountaineer, I opened the display case and took out the
four-band watch. I slipped it into my handbag and rearranged the
remaining watches to cover the gap. I had made plenty of sales on my
own when Mr. Becker was busy. Since he hadn't paid me any
commissions, I was only taking what I was owed.
When Mr. Becker came back from lunch, he studied the diamond-ring
display like he always did, but he didn't even glance at the watches.
Walking home that evening with the watch hidden in my purse, I felt
light and giddy. After dinner, I climbed into my bunk bed, where no one
could see me, and tried on the watch with each of the bands, gesturing
the way I figured rich people did.
Wearing the watch to work was out of the question, of course. I also
realized that I could run into Mr. Becker in town at any time, so I
decided that until school started, I'd put the watch on only at home. Then
I began to wonder how I'd explain the watch to Brian and Lori and Mom
and Dad. I also worried that Mr. Becker might see something thieflike in
my expression. Sooner or later, he'd discover the missing watch and
would question me, and I'd have to lie convincingly, which I wasn't very
good at. If I wasn't convincing, I'd be sent off to a reform school with
people like Billy Deel, and Mr. Becker would have the satisfaction of
knowing he'd been right all along not to trust me.