The shop was bustling with activity, even though I was hearing more and more rumors about Aspirants poking around the various doorways scattered about the floors. It didn’t seem to be stopping anyone from venturing into the storefront—not yet anyway—but that could change if the Aspirants managed to blockade all of the doors in and out. Although I could move the doorway anchors once every twenty-four hours, exiting through any of the given doorways could also drop me or my customers directly into an ambush.
I’d need to do something about those jerkoffs eventually. For now, though, taking down Funtime Frank and establishing a trade partnership with the Delvers of Howlers Hold was still my top priority.
But there were a few logistical issues that needed to be taken care of before we headed back out. With foot traffic picking up, Princess Ponypuff and Baby Hands were having a tough time handling the influx of new customers. Baby Hands was still dumb as a painted rock, and even as capable as Ponypuff seemed to be, she could still only do so much. With the addition of the new concession stand, the simple fact was that I didn’t have enough hands on deck to keep things running smoothly.
I needed to scale up.
There were a few options on the metaphorical table.
I could add one new Cannon Fodder Golem for every 5,000 square feet of claimed space. But even with the addition of the Monolith and the new concession stand, I was still only at 14,291 square feet. Just over seven hundred square feet shy of what I’d need to be able to forge a new minion. There was nothing preventing me from going out and tacking on enough space to spawn another golem, but that felt… irresponsible.
I wanted all of my square footage to count, and randomly slapping on something just for the added space seemed like a bad long-term choice.
My other option was to destroy Baby Hands and craft a new, smarter minion, but I had reservations about that too. Sure, Baby Hands was dumber than a wet blanket. And yes, he wasn’t actually a person at all. But Baby Hands was a hard worker, and I trusted the neckless garbage golem a hundred times more than Ponypuff. Plus, Croc would be devastated if I killed him. The pair of them really were like two peas in a pod, and when Croc wasn’t hanging around with me, he was off playing with the taciturn golem.
I couldn’t kill Croc’s second best friend in the whole world just because it was the smart thing to do. I mean I could, technically, but I wasn’t a monster.
Which left me with one option.
Hire some extra help.
I headed over to the cash register and took the visitor log from Ponypuff.
The pony-headed minion was drinking a 40-ounce bottle of malt liquor, called Alley King Gold, while simultaneously chain-smoking cigarettes. Beside her, an ashtray held a small mountain of crumpled butts. Strictly speaking, Ponypuff didn’t have lungs or internal organs, so I wasn’t quite sure how she was managing to day drink and smoke like a chimney, but I’d given up trying to figure out the physics of this place weeks ago.
She idly bleated at me like an angry goat, but then went back to reading a glossy magazine as soon as she realized I just needed the guest logbook.
I scanned the list of names and saw a few familiar ones as well as a couple of new ones.
I dismissed the newcomers right away.
The level 18 was still here, camped out in one of the tents. According to the log, his name was Michael Bolton, though I was pretty sure he wasn’t the Michael Bolton—’80s pop-sensation superstar with classic hits, such as “How Am I Supposed To Live Without You?” and “Can I touch you… There.”
At least, I didn’t think so. Though upon further reflection, there was a certain resemblance. The Michael Bolton hiding out in a tent had to be in his mid- to late sixties, which put him around the right age, and he had a mane of wild silver hair that cascaded down around his shoulders. Was it possible that the Michael Bolton was sleeping in my storage room?
No. That was crazy.
Probably.
Didn’t matter.
Even if it was the Michael Bolton, the guy was level 18 and as jumpy as a Marine fresh home from an active combat zone. The guy had wicked PTSD and I wouldn’t trust him with a pair of bootlaces. I definitely wasn’t going to trust him to help run the store. Jakob was on the roster as well, but I needed his help to take out Funtime Frank, so that was no good.
That left just two names.
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I headed into the sleeping area and nudged Taylor, the college girl from Oklahoma, awake with the toe of my boot. She was snoring softly on one of the cots, while her friend Stephanie was asleep on the floor beside her, curled up in a thick sleeping bag that had probably come from one of the sporting goods stores. Taylor had managed to crawl her way up to level 7, while her friend had made it to level 6. Not too bad at all, considering they didn’t have any of my obvious advantages.
Taylor startled awake and shot up, eyes wide in a mixture of fear and rage, one hand thrust out while another dropped toward a knife stashed at her hip.
“You don’t need to do that,” I said, backing up a few steps and raising my hands to show they were empty. At the same time, I mentally prepared to cast Sterilization Field, which would neutralize any hostile magic she tossed my way. “Not looking to hurt you. Just wanted to make you and your friend there a job offer.”
She grunted, eyes darting left then right.
Finally, when she seemed certain that I wasn’t about to harvest her kidneys, she lowered her hand and shook her friend awake. She never took her eyes off me, though, which was smart. I mean, I wasn’t going to do anything to her, but she didn’t know that. And not trusting anyone in the Backrooms was survival rule 101.
Her friend blinked and sat up after a moment, rubbing the sleep from her eyes with one hand.
“Everything okay?” Stephanie asked groggily. She didn’t seem to be nearly as alert as her friend. Then something seemed to click inside her head and her eyes opened comically wide, gaze swinging back and forth between me and Taylor. “Hey, you’re the guy, right? Discount Dan? Like, this survival tip brought to you by Discount Dan?”
“One and the same.” I took a few steps back and lowered my hands. “Like I was telling your friend, I’m not here to hurt you. Just the opposite. I’m wondering if the two of you might be interested in doing a little work around the shop?”
“What kind of work?” Taylor growled, swinging her legs out over the edge of the mattress. She looked like she was actively preparing to bolt if this conversation went sideways. “We’re not doing weird sex shit, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“What? Weird sex shit?” I asked, brow furrowed. “No, I don’t want you to do weird sex stuff. I want you to work the new hotdog stand…” I faltered.
“You want us to work a hotdog stand?” Taylor repeated, voice flat and dry as the Sahara.
“Yeah, you know what?” I replied. “Hearing myself say that out loud, I can sort of see how you could get the wrong impression, but I can assure you that working the hotdog stand is not in any way a euphemism for weird sex stuff. It’s an actual hotdog stand, though it has more than hotdogs. There’s pizza, nachos, fries, and also hotdogs. The food gives slight buffs and comes premade. I just need someone to work the stand. Deliver the food, accept payment. That kind of thing.”
“Why don’t you get one of your weird trash monsters to help?” Stephanie asked, standing from her spot on the floor. She looked a little more relaxed than her friend, but her hand had come to rest on the pommel of a hunting knife, dangling from a belt slung around her hips.
“It’s complicated,” I replied, “but the long and short of it is that I can’t make another for a little while yet, and the store is getting too busy for the two golems I do have to handle everything. Point is, I need some extra hands to help around here. It’ll come with pay and perks.”
“What kind of pay and perks?” Taylor asked.
“You can share a cot on the house,” I replied, “plus you can take as much food as you want from the concession stand. I’ll also give you a ten percent store discount on anything else, including Relics and Artifacts.”
They shared a quick, subtle look between each other, but neither made a move to leave.
“Look, if you don’t want the job, it’s no sweat off my back.” I hooked a thumb toward one of the tents. “I’ll just go ask Michael Bolton. I bet he’d be more than happy to take me up on the offer.”
“Wait,” Taylor said, “Michael Bolton’s here? Like the “My Secret Passion” Michael Bolton?”
“No, not that Michael Bolton,” I said, shaking my head. “At least, I don’t think so,” I amended after a moment.
Finally, Stephanie reached over and squeezed Taylor’s wrist. The motion was subtle, but I caught it out of the corner of my eye.
“Yeah, okay,” Taylor offered, finally pulling her hand away from the dagger at her belt. “Show us what we have to do.”
Before I could get the girls set up, I needed to do a little rearranging. When I’d added the concession stand, it had randomly attached itself back by the pharmacy, which was no bueno. The placement made no sense, and once we got the pharmacy up and working, having both things shoved back in the corner would create floor congestion. Using the Blanket Fort Interface, I moved the electronics section, which had been located not far from the front checkout counter, and relocated the concession stand.
The stand fit neatly between checkout and the photo booth. It was the perfect location. Good foot traffic and excellent visibility. Plus, Ponypuff would be able to keep an eye on Taylor and Stephanie without having to actively leave checkout.
I had the two girls help me move a couple of plastic folding tables, previously stashed in the storage room, along with a couple of folding chairs. We set the two tables up in front of the stand so folks would have a place to sit and eat. It wasn’t fine dining by any stretch of the imagination, but it was a damned bit better than eating a blistering hot Magma Calzone on a cot in the storage room.
Once that was done, I spent a half hour or so walking the two college girls through the concession stand, showing them around and laying out what they would be responsible for. I had Baby Hands shadow me so he could act as their direct supervisor. I didn’t have a lot of faith in the golem, but he seemed to pick up most of what I was laying down. The girls would work in eight-hour shifts, with an overlapping four-hour break between, so they could still go out and grind levels together for a few hours each day.
The concession stand operations were extremely simple, and the stand itself generated the food without any need for cooking. Mostly, they would be there to serve the food and collect cash. Well, Shards anyway.
Taylor still didn’t seem like she entirely trusted me, but free food and housing was hard to say no to.
By the time we were done, the food stand was already starting to draw a small crowd of hungry Delvers, all clamoring for a bite. Since Taylor and Stephanie had a handle on things, and I was dead on my feet, I slipped away to grab a bit of shut-eye.