It's a Wonderful Cover Life #1

There's no Chuck tonight, or in my case 5 am tomorrow morning, Yvonne and friends are depressing us with a countdown of the final days of shooting, a couple of the actors have wrapped already and some of the sets are being dismantled as we speak. At least we still have fan fiction.  Granted, not totally as awesome as seeing the show, but hey, it's something.  So I'm doing my bit and have decided to update my Christmas fic here first.  I'll try to give you two scenes daily, but for today you get three as most of you have already read one of them.  It's also an incentive for me to get my butt moving and finish it so posting on FF can start around 20 December.  Nervert has worked his beta magic on this one and I'd be lost without the awesome ideas of our local ninja librarian, Questie.  Thanks guys, you rock!  Now without further ado, more after the jump. 
   

1. It’s that time of the year

Big Mike scrambled down the aisle as fast as his bulky frame would allow.  Stopping short of the Nerd Herd desk, he doubled over, hands on his knees, and tried to get his wheezing under control.  He gasped for breath and when he no longer sounded like one of the seven dwarfs at work, he straightened and clapped loudly to get everyone’s attention.

“Look alive, people!” he boomed, “Mr. Walker will be here any minute!”  He scanned the store as the green-shirts busied themselves and then groaned as if in pain when he saw Jeff and Lester slither out of the home theater room.  “Patel!” Mike yelled across the store, “Take Barnes somewhere for a nap or something.  Keep him out of sight!” 

Jeff opened his mouth to protest, but while he was stringing a coherent sentence together, Lester dutifully steered him through the back door. 

Big Mike continued his visual search.  “Grimes!  Where the hell is Grimes?”

“Right here, sir.”  Morgan jogged up from the DVD aisle, his green sneakers squeaking on the linoleum floor.

“Go clean out my office.  It needs to be spotless.”

“But, sir…” Morgan whined.

“Now, Grimes!”  Morgan sent Chuck a pleading look but he just shrugged in return.  There was no arguing with Big Mike when he was in this mood.  With a sigh, Morgan turned to go do as he was told.  “And don’t forget to dust Norman!” Big Mike called after him then spun around.  “Bartowski!” 

Chuck’s head snapped back to his boss. “Sir?” he asked tentatively, mindful of the fact that no one had been assigned to diaper station duty yet.

“Why are the customers looking like a bunch of bored sheep?”

“I don’t know, sir,” Chuck replied, barely hiding his relief. 

“Well, do something about it.” 

Chuck gave him a confused look.  He was in charge of the Nerds, fixing computers for eleven dollars an hour.  It was the green-shirts’ job to sell the merchandise and they fell under the supervision of Harry Tang, the current assistant manager.  Not that Chuck minded helping out, but Harry got his back up every time he felt someone was encroaching on his territory, and if there was one thing Chuck tried to avoid at all cost, it was conflict.        

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”  Big Mike rolled his eyes, grabbed the P.A. microphone and pressed the red button.  “Attention.  Attention customers.  For the next twenty minutes all merchandise on the floor are marked down five percent.”  That had the desired effect.  People suddenly looked more interested in the toasters, hair dryers and flat screen TV’s.  With a satisfied smirk, he placed the microphone back on the desk.  “These suckers don’t even realize we’ve hiked prices fifteen percent for the festive season.”

Chuck didn’t how and if he should respond to that.

“Try to look busy, Bartowski,” Big Mike barked a last order returning to the front of the store.

“Actually, I am busy…” Chuck started, but trailed off as Big Mike was already out of earshot. 

With a shake of his head, Chuck’s attention turned back to the cell phone he was fixing.  He was used to the situation by now.  Every time Mr. Walker stopped by for a visit, Big Mike went all in a tizzy, putting up a show to convince the owner of the Buy More that the store was doing great. 

Chuck snorted.  As if the man couldn’t read a sales report, he thought.  Big Mike wasn’t fooling anyone but himself.  He gave the screw in the back of the Intel cell a couple of quick turns and was reaching for the battery cover when he heard the doors whoosh open.  Silence fell on the store, which caused him to look up.

His jaw dropped.

---0---

2.  Who’s your momma?

Chuck had no idea when the Buy More had installed a wind machine, or why, but when his attention moved from the leggy redhead gliding through the doors to her gorgeous blonde companion, he didn’t really care.  His eyes ran down her body, from her golden hair hanging loose around her shoulders to the loose fitting pink blouse tucked into a gray pencil skirt that ended well above her knee, over her shapely legs to her impossibly high heels. 

A clang snapped him from his stupor.  He had dropped the screwdriver he’d been holding.  Flustered, he stooped down to retrieve it and hit the back of his head under the desk on the way up.

“Damn it,” he cursed under his breath, partly because it hurt but mostly because he was disgusted with himself.  He was usually more respectful of women, not eyeing them like a horse on show. 

But damn. 

Deciding to stay hidden to avoid making a fool of himself, Chuck remained crouched on the floor, listening for when they passed.  He heard Big Mike say something only to be cut off with a curt, “Not now, Mark.” 

Chuck’s eyebrows shot up.  He should have expected that.  He’d been around enough pretty girls at Stanford to know how bitchy most of them acted.  Though he prided himself on not stereotyping people, some things were just proven to be true more often than not.

The store noises picked up again and Chuck reckoned the coast was clear.  He crawled out from under the desk and pushed to his feet.  His gaze lifted and met a pair of impossibly deep blue eyes.  It startled him and he let out a girlish scream, jumping backwards. 

“I…uh…” he stammered, raising the hand that held onto the screwdriver for dear life.  “Do you need something fixed?” he spoke the first words that popped into his mind, waiving the tool in the blonde’s direction.

“Actually we just need some privacy for a meeting,” the redhead answered.  She tilted her head in the direction of Big Mike’s office.  “Somewhere out of the public eye.”

“Yeah,” Chuck’s voice was a pitch higher than normal and he cleared his throat, “Of course.”  He noticed the screwdriver was now pointed at them like a dangerous weapon and quickly lowered his hand, aiming for his back pocket.  He misjudged the angle and nicked himself in the butt with the sharp end.  He grimaced and a pair of green eyes glared at him when he didn’t immediately assist. 

“Um, you could use the cage,” he suggested.  “Nobody ever goes there.”  He pointed to the doors behind him.  “Through there, make a left after the break room and it’s at the end of the hallway.  You can’t miss it.”

Without further acknowledgement the redhead turned, but the blonde paused. 

“Thank you…” she leaned slightly forward to read his pocket protector, “Chuck.” 

She raised an amused eyebrow and Chuck was frantically searching for one of his witty comments he normally used when someone found his name unusual, but he drew a blank, the only thought running through his mind a warning to not look down. 

He opened his mouth, but was saved from having to reply when the redhead called from the door.  “C’mon, Sarah, we don’t have all day.”

Sarah shot Chuck a small appreciative smile before disappearing through the double green doors.

“What did she say?” Big Mike asked anxiously from behind Chuck, causing him to jump for a second time in as many minutes.

“Nothing.  She just…” he trailed off absentmindedly.  Finally able to tear his eyes away from the door, he turned to Big Mike.  “Who was that?”

Big Mike scratched the back of his neck.  “It seems Mr. Walker has retired.  That was his daughter,” he paused and shook his head in disbelief.  “She’s our new boss.”

---0---

3.  All is fair in love and acquisitions

Sarah paced the small space that, much to her surprise, really was a cage.  Outside the framework and wire boxed appliances were stacked ceiling high.  Inside was a desk and chair, surrounded by several dismantled computers and spare parts.  She briefly wondered if the employees were actually locked inside when they were doing repairs.  She made a mental note to check with the manager, as that was not standard business practice and certainly contravened the health and safety regulations.  Then again, soon it wouldn’t be her problem.

“Go ahead, say it,” Carina prompted when Sarah turned back to face her.

Sarah folded her arms across her chest and glared at her best friend and corporate attorney.  “Have you completely lost your mind?”

“It’s a small price to pay to get rid of this place.”  Carina looked around, her nose wrinkled in disgust.  “What’s the big deal, anyway?”

“The big deal,” Sarah enunciated, “Is that you told the buyer I have a husband and a child.  And then you invited her to my house to meet my ‘family’.  Why would you do that?”

“I had to sell it,” Carina argued, mimicking Sarah’s stance.  “Look, Beckman is eccentric.  She’s big on family and she will only do business with people who share the same values.” 

“That’s absurd,” Sarah countered.  “Buying a business is about dollars and cents, not my morals and principles.”

“You want to get rid of this place and I don’t see buyers lined up around the block.  You’ve seen the statements.  This store is a money pit.  No sane businessman will touch it.”

Sarah knew Carina had a point, but she was not about to concede.  One of the few characteristics she’d inherited from her father was his stubbornness.  “Which begs the question: why is Beckman even interested?”

“It’s a Christmas gift for her son, Emmett.  I ran a background check on the guy.  Total moron.  Beckman Enterprises lost two major Japanese contracts because of him.  She probably figured if she gave him something that was shit to begin with, he couldn’t screw it up any further.”

“Great, just what I need – another sentimental fool.” 

Carina opened her mouth to say something, but Sarah stopped her with a raised palm.  She didn’t need to hear it.  She was well aware of the reasons her father had hung onto the store.  He had worked here one summer when he was in college and it was where he had met her mother.  Though Emma Walker had packed her bags and left over fifteen years ago, her father had been unable to let go.  When he finally realized he was waiting in vain for his true love to return, he’d thrown himself into his work, building an empire.  Now that he’d decided to retire early, he had turned over the reins to her, bought himself a yacht, and set sail to heaven knows where. 

“Have you told him yet?” Carina asked quietly.  All she got in response was another glare. 

Sarah had been systematically selling off all the companies in the group, depositing the proceeds into a trust fund.  It already had enough resources to sustain six generations of Walkers, or at least in Sarah’s mind, keep her and her father in a very comfortable lifestyle for the rest of their lives.  After that, a couple of animal shelters in the California area would be funded for a very, very long time.  She was the last Walker, and she always would be.  She had no desire for a white picket fence future, which brought her back to her current predicament.

“And where, pray tell, am I supposed to dig up a husband and a child before Thursday?”  She wasn’t keen to go through with the charade, but she was desperate to get rid of the Buy More, the only thing standing between her and getting on the first plane out of the country.  Though deep down she knew she couldn’t run away from herself, she was hell-bent on trying.

“This is L.A.  We’ll hire a couple of out of work actors,” Carina suggested with a shrug, then raised a menacing eyebrow.  “Unless you want to rekindle things with Bryce…”

“Call an agency,” Sarah instructed, leaving no room for argument.