“Who are you, and why are you putting your hands on me?” Kayleigh demanded.
“My apologies. I’m Clark Neuwirth, the manager here. I saw the incident with Lyle and wanted to come and help.”
“Who the fuck is Lyle?”
Clark pointed over to the corner of the lobby, where the kid who had bumped into Kayleigh cowered, still tapping away at his temple. A female employee was comforting him and shooting daggers at them.
“Why is she glaring at me?” Kayleigh asked. “Look at the state of me. I certainly didn’t pour my overpriced soda all over myself right before going into a freezing cold theater.”
“I saw the whole thing, and I do apologize,” Clark said, handing back the phone, which now had a large crack running diagonally across the screen. As soon as he saw the damage, Clark’s face flushed and sweat popped out on his forehead. “Was it like that before?”
At the sight of the damaged screen, Kayleigh felt a red mist descend and could sense that she was about to explode. “No, Clark, it was not like that before.
The theater manager nervously adjusted his tie, his eyes darting around the lobby as though wishing for an emergency exit to magically appear. “That was my fault, and I do apologize again,” he said quietly.
“Well, Clark, that’s two apologies from you, yet here I still stand soaked and in possession of a broken phone. Let’s also not forget that I have now missed the start of the movie that I paid good money to see.” Before he could respond, Kayleigh continued with her rant. “I look at you, and I don’t see a man in charge, Clark. I see a simpering fool with a barely formed mustache and a comb-over that does nothing to hide the fact that you are going bald. You obviously cannot take care of yourself, so why would I expect you to be able to take care of this situation?”
Clark hung his head and said, “I’m sorry, but you are wrong.”
Closing her eyes, Kayleigh took several deep breaths and got herself under control. As always happened after one of her outbursts, guilt crept in. She knew that she should offer up an apology of her own but was also too stubborn to admit that she might have overreacted. She looked up to see Clark staring at her, a look of grim determination on his face.
“Here is what we are going to do,” he said. “I’ll have Sheila pick you out a theater uniform in your size that you can change into. While you are doing that, I will call over to the phone repair shop in the mall. I am friends with the owner there. I will make him aware that you are coming and that he should bill me directly for any repairs. I am also going to add money to your Hollywood Honors account, enough to cover your next ten visits. How does that sound?”
“That, um, that sounds more than fair,” Kayleigh said, the pangs of guilt turning into a full-body invasion.
“First, though, please allow me to take over from Sheila in comforting Lyle. This theater has a policy of hiring developmentally disabled kids to help around the place. I fear that he may be a little frightened at the moment.”
“Of course,” Kayleigh said. “Please tell him that I’m sorry for yelling.”
She watched as Clark trotted over to Sheila and Lyle, daintily skipping around the fallen popcorn that littered the threadbare carpet. Kayleigh felt totally miserable then and was full of apologies when Sheila handed over a crisp new uniform and a plastic bag to hold her wet clothes. “Do I get a nametag, too?” Kayleigh said, trying to lighten the situation.
With a roll of her eyes, Sheila disappeared through a door marked “Employees Only,” but not before spearing Kayleigh through the heart with one final death glare.
Considering that the theater was old and a little run down, the restrooms were remarkably well maintained. The tiles and chrome sparkled under the neon glare, and the mirror that Kayleigh looked into was as smooth and clear as a mountain pond. Her reflection was a blight on an otherwise spotless space. The front of Kayleigh’s shirt was soaked and looked like an inkblot test, and while her jeans had escaped most of the soda splashdown, they showed spots where the liquid had dripped off her shirt.
Stepping into a toilet stall, Kayleigh stripped out of her wet clothes and tossed them in the plastic bag that Sheila had provided. She was more than a little surprised to find that the theater uniform fit quite well. She was not a fan of the color of the polo shirt, a shade of aqua blue that April would have cooed over, but the slacks were more stylish than she would have expected.
While her phone screen was covered in cracks that looked like the tributaries of the Amazon, it still functioned well enough to take a selfie. Typing anything was impossible, though, so she saved the picture so that she could share it on her Instagram feed later. Kayleigh was sure that April could come up with some great hashtags for the snap and was beginning to convince herself that getting drenched was a bit of a blessing in disguise. That was a much better story than trying to feign enthusiasm for what was almost certainly going to be a pretty awful movie.
Kayleigh tucked the phone back in her purse, snatched up the plastic bag with her clothes in it, and stepped back into the lobby. Clark was there waiting for her, while Sheila and Lyle were nowhere in sight.
“Ah, you are all cleaned up, I see. On behalf of the Hollywood at Sugarmill Theater, please allow me to apologize once more,” Clark said with a little bow.
Fighting back the urge to call him a peasant and tell him to arise, Kayleigh instead said, “Thank you.”
“We pulled your rewards car number from your previous transaction and have funded your account as promised. I called Peter at Fix-Your-Phone and made him aware that you are on your way. He is aware of the issue and will have your phone repaired within the hour. The uniform is yours to keep.”
“I’ll cherish it forever,” Kayleigh said, instantly regretting the words as soon as they passed her lips.
If Clark was annoyed at the sarcasm, he didn’t show it. Professional as ever, he said, “We hope that this experience does not taint your view of Hollywood at Sugarmill. I also hope that we see you again soon, Miss Barnes.”
“Thanks. Where can I find the phone place?”
“Ah, yes, it’s on the opposite side of the food court, just around the corner from the coffee shop.”
With nothing else left to say, Kayleigh mumbled another thank you and bolted for the exit, looking to escape before Sheila or Lyle showed up again to compound her misery. Stopping to take a couple of exterior shots of the theater and the upcoming movie posters, she headed back in the direction of the food court, the music from the carousel calling to her and making her feel like one of the Pied Piper kids.
Skirting around the edge of the food court, Kayleigh rounded the corner by the coffee shot and almost ran into a young man holding a clipboard. “Excuse me,” she said, skipping around him, hoping to avoid being asked to sign a petition or do a survey. She thought she had escaped, but then heard him say, ”Creepy Kaylz, am I right?”
Stopping in her tracks, Kayleigh wheeled around and saw the man with the clipboard grinning wildly. He would have been easy on the eyes were it not for the goofy gap-toothed grin that was spread across his face.
“How do you know me?”
“I’m a faithful Instagram follower. No wonder you get to see so many cool movies. I didn’t realize you worked at the theater.”