. I remember wandering around the sumptuous confectionery wishing I had the whole store to myself.
And now, after eight years of writing, revising, querying, two agents, and countless submissions, I've made the decision to make this dream come true on my own.
Having published three books the traditional route, (with a fourth out this July,
) and the wonderful support from Wattpad readers, I knew this was the best time for me to take the plunge into self publishing.
The first thing I did was contact the editor who had worked on my other books—lucky for me she was available. Next, I hired the artist who had done the cover for
. Emma Dolan was able to give NIGHT SHIFT a slick new look.
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Emma Dolan was able to come up with this design simply from the query letter. She has no idea how intuitive she is! I love the colour scheme and of course the one tiny light on at the top.
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CHAPTER ONE
he gray-haired security guard narrowed his eyes, taking
in Daniel’s faded pea coat over the hoodie, and his worn out backpack. Months
of travelling had left its mark; his clothes were dingy, he hadn’t shaved in a
few days, and even his skin was pale and tired-looking.
Daniel caught his
reflection in one of the video monitors that lined the opposite wall, tracking
all the movements inside Willard’s department store. No one from school would
recognize the zombie he’d become.
The man’s wrinkled fingers
drummed on the antique wooden desk beside Daniel’s pathetic, half-page resume.
“You left the education section blank,” he said curtly.
“I’m a few credits short of
graduating from high school.” A few plus some more, Daniel thought to
himself. Then he added quickly, “I’m hoping to finish by correspondence in the
next few months.” A lie. A diploma was the last thing on his “to do” list.
“You dropped out?”
“No.” Daniel’s cheeks grew
warm. He faked a cough, hoping to disguise the blush. He hadn’t anticipated
having to explain his circumstances. “I just didn’t finish the last semester.”
“Any trouble with the law?”
“No, sir.”
“You can call me Mr.
Oliver,” he instructed. His eyes barely stayed on Daniel before his attention
returned to the paper.
“Okay…” There was an
uncomfortable pause, then he added, “Mr. Oliver.”
“Daniel Gale,” he read, his
finger going over the resume as if reading it by brail. “Not a very common
name.”
Daniel stayed quiet, unsure
how to respond. He didn’t think his name was all that special.
The questions started
again. “You’re a long way from home. Why?”
“I’m eighteen,” Daniel
answered, slightly put out by the insinuation he was a helpless kid. “I’ve been
travelling.”
“But not anymore?” One
white eyebrow arched, but Mr. Oliver didn’t look up.
Daniel was struck by a
heavy gloom. He needed this job; it was his last hope.
The thought of getting on
another plane made him sick. Long ago, he’d made a game of trying to guess
which of his fellow passengers had someone waiting for them. A woman with an
infant would more than likely be embraced by anxious grandparents, waving a new
teddy bear. The middle-aged man wearing a baseball cap was always picked up by
his brother or sister. And the girl who checked her makeup just before the
plane landed was meeting a boyfriend.
But there was never anyone
waiting for Daniel.
Before he could put a spin
on his situation, Mr. Oliver spoke again. “Next of kin is your lawyer.” It
wasn’t a question, but he paused, waiting for an explanation.
“My parents are, um…gone.”
Daniel looked down at his scuffed loafers, taken from his father’s closet the
day he left home.
“Ever work in a department
store?” Mr. Oliver asked. Clearly, the fact that Daniel was on his own didn’t
concern or interest him. Daniel guessed if he’d been purposely going for the
sympathy angle, it wouldn’t have worked on this tough crank.
“No,” he answered.
“Any experience with
security?”
“No.”
“How long have you lived in
the city?” he asked suspiciously, as if trying to catch Daniel in a lie.
“Just arrived.” Daniel felt
like he was in his school’s state hockey championship all over again, but this
time, every slap shot was missing the net. His fingers slipped inside his
jacket pocket and found the small round object. He managed a half smile—feeling
the Magic 8 Ball keychain always made him relax.
“I see,” Mr. Oliver said,
studying him. He smoothed out his royal blue tie, letting his fingers pause at
the golden W on the clip.
Daniel squirmed, making the
wooden chair squeak.
“Do you believe in
ghosts?”
He cocked his head to one
side, unsure if he’d heard correctly. “Um, ghosts?” Daniel didn’t dare crack a
joke; in fact, the old guy was creeping him out. Why was it important for a
night security guard to believe in ghosts? He shifted his weight in the chair
again, trying to buy time to think. He was totally unprepared for this
interview. The silence grew painfully long; he had to say something.
Daniel took a deep breath. He knew all about the finality of death. “No,” he
said. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Good. Willard’s has a bit
of a reputation—unfortunately. The store goes through a lot of night guards.”
“Oh,” Daniel said. His gaze
flicked around the room, wondering if there was a hidden camera on him. Maybe
this was some psychological component of the interview? “Excuse me, but by ‘go
through,’ what do you mean?”
“They quit.”
“Oh,” Daniel said again.
Mr. Oliver folded his hands
on the green blotter and stared back. “Why do you want to work here?”
Daniel’s fist squeezed the
keychain inside his pocket. He met Mr. Oliver’s gaze and told him the truth.
“Because it’s just what I need.”
Mr. Oliver let out a long
breath, and then added Daniel’s thin resume to a pile of more substantial
hopefuls, making the outcome of this disastrous interview obvious. Daniel’s
last bit of hope faded, and the disappointment weighed on him like a wet
blanket.
“Thank you for your
interest in Willard’s,” Mr. Oliver said, nodding toward the door. “Come to the
office tomorrow, half an hour before the store closes. We’ll get you fitted for
a uniform.”
Daniel almost fell out of
the chair. “I got the job?”
“Don’t be late,” he said,
then paused, and his voice dropped a few notes. “Daniel Gale.”
“I won’t. Thank you!”
Daniel was stunned for a moment, unable to move. Mr. Oliver frowned at him, and
then motioned impatiently to the door again.
Daniel left the security
office, shouldering his backpack, suddenly giddy with his change in luck. He
leaned against a long glass counter and grinned. He was finally getting closer
to finding an answer.
