I thought it a strange thing to say. Aside from the other side of the mountains, where I assumed the hikers went missing, what else was there to be concerned about? I opened my mouth to ask what or who she meant when a crashing noise came from inside, followed by a shattering of glass.
Summer yelled, “Obi! Now look what you’ve done. You’re such an idiot!”
“Am not.”
“Are.”
“Am not!”
“Ouch, don’t hit! MOM!”
Cindy excused herself with a sigh but turned back at the top of the stairs. “Come see us if you ever need anything, okay? Anything at all. Our door is always open.”
As I headed home, an unease clutched at my chest and wouldn’t let go.
Chapter 17
The Bookstore
It was amazing to me how quickly time passed. Given I wasn’t busy, each day blurred into another. Wednesday seemed to come around before I knew it, and then I was opening the door to the bookstore for my first shift. The first few hours flew past, and Bob enthusiastically explained everything in minute, painstaking detail. Things like how to use a cash register, which was really just a glorified calculator and looked as old as he was. How to use a credit card machine, I knew of course, but he explained anyway. How to use the computer, thankfully it was newer than the register and was as basic as putting in the name of the book, the author if you knew it, and poof! “Just like magic,” Bob had said grinning, as if it were a thing of amazement, “the computer will tell you if we have it in stock.”
The bookstore was surprisingly busy, with an array of people filtering in and out. Two older teenagers, a boy and a girl, caught my eye. They roamed the aisles for a bit, stopping in the fantasy section. Both were dressed in ripped black jeans and heavy-metal T-shirts. The boy’s greasy black hair hung past his shoulders. The girl’s was dyed black with a tinge of blue licking through the ends. She wore black lipstick, which contrastedagainst her alabaster face, making her look like the dead summoned to life. But it wasn’t their looks that concerned me. It was the fact that they kept glancing up to see if I was watching them. I was. I’d already asked them if they needed help, which the girl declined, with a balloon-sized pop of bubble gum.
Bob had slipped out to grab the ingredients to make relish, that he had explained in remarkable detail how to make. Which, if I ever felt the urge to whip up my own batch—I wouldn’t—would be invaluable. Aside from a few kids in the library area who were here to study, but weren’t, if their noise was any indication, and one older lady looking for a gift for her grandchild, the shop was empty.
I glanced back up as the boy slipped a book underneath his T-shirt and tucked it in. I couldn’t understand why, if they were going to steal, they would announce their arrival by way of popping gum as they strolled casually past and spoke about how fucked up they were going to get on the weekend. Not a fucking brain between them, as my dad would say.
There wasn’t much that annoyed me, but theft did. If they wanted something, work for it, assholes.
They ducked behind the far end of the rows of books and headed toward the door. Seething, I marched over and cut off their great escape. I had no clue which book the boy had under his top, but the shape on his weedy frame stuck out more than the outline of his physically challenged cock in those skinny stretch jeans.
They halted. It was either that or barge through me. The girl ran her eyes up and down my body casually, like she was the ice queen. The boy, king of greasy-haired cool, gave nothing away in his expression. I knew their type; I’d met their kind a hundred times before. They acted tough, but underneath they’d have about as much bravado as the size of the boy’s cock. Theydidn’t realize they’d just met the queen of heat, albeit it was a self-awarded crown.
“I think you owe me sixty dollars before you walk out the door,” I said, looking pointedly at the rectangular shape. Sixty dollars was probably way above the cost, but fuck them, they needed the lesson.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, lady,” the boy answered, chomping on gum like it was made of nails. The girl smirked.
“The outline under your T-shirt says you do.”
He sneered, “Prove it.”
To prove it, I would need to wrestle the book out from under his top, which I didn’t mind doing, but I didn’t know Bob’s policy on physical assault. The girl muttered something under her breath, it sounded like a foreign language. Behind me, the doorbell rang, not once, but five times. I didn’t take my eyes off them.
The body smirked. “Looks like you have customers you’d better go help.”
“This is how it’s going to go. You’re going to give me sixty dollars for the book you just stole and hand it back. Or if you protest, you’re going to give me sixty dollars and hand me back the book, and I’m going to call Matt. Or you could refuse, of course—it’s your choice. But you will be spending the next week using the hairs from your balls I’ve just jammed into your throat as dental floss, then I get the book, and then I call Matt.”
Ghost girl muttered something else foreign and clenched her poltergeist hands like dead spider’s legs. The boy smirked. A sudden, sharp pain sliced through my head, and I winced under the pressure. For a brief moment I felt like she’d caused the pain, but that was ludicrous. It was just a headache. The girl looked at me with a tight, perturbed expression, likely debating what to do. The door chimed again, three more times. The shop wasfilling up, and I needed to help others. I felt my temper begin to flare.
I gritted my teeth. “You’re running out of time. I’m going to count to three, then your scrotum chokes your throat.” I paused for effect, then said, “One.”
Mr. Cool smirked, but I noted he swallowed. Definitely uncomfortable. He was busy doubting his talents and wondering if I could back myself up.
“Two.”
Ghost girl glared, her lips thinning like shriveled worms. I could see her rolling the threat around in their heads, scrambling for the perfect obliterating response that would magnify their god-like coolness. Obviously, they came up with nada, it was no surprise given they didn’t have a brain between them. Mr. Cool yanked the book out from under his top, threw it at me, and they darted out of the store, the door ringing in their wake.
I turned around. Bob was behind the counter, and I couldn’t see any other customers. Perhaps the doorbell was faulty, or it was a hoard of kids now in the library section.
