My prayers were answered and time ticked by. Five o’clock, and on a Friday, to boot. I was free for two whole days.
Well, almost. There was one thing I had to do that night.
I followed the hurried flow of my fellow office workers out of the building and into the crisp air of the early fall. The leaves were just starting to turn and the evening cold nipped at my nose as I wound my way through the crowds.
As they thinned, I started getting a bad feeling at the back of my mind. I paused beneath a freshly lit streetlamp and partially turned around. A few dozen people strolled up and down the street, but no one stood out. My heart pounded in my chest as I continued on my way, but at a faster clip.
That’s when I heard them. Footsteps that matched my pace, or were perhaps a little faster. I stopped and spun around. A shadow ducked behind a garbage can. I reached into my coat pocket and wrapped my hand around the pepper spray. So armed, I inched toward the can.
“W-who’s there?” I called out as I neared the hiding spot. “Come out, or I’ll shoot!”
A barking laugh came from behind the trash. “That’s not a threat to anyone who knows your aim.”
My shoulders drooped, and I rolled my eyes. “Timothy Larkin, you get your ass out from behind there.”
A tall, broad-shouldered fellow stepped out from behind the trash can. He sported short hair and a mischievous smile. “Can’t an older brother tease his younger sister?”
“Only if said brother wants to give said sister a heart attack,” I scolded him as I patted my chest over that same organ. “It’s the weekend. The old ticker is supposed to get some rest.”
“I thought I’d walk you to the club. You know, keep you safe and stuff,” he told me as he strolled up to my side. “Shall we?”
I snorted, and we walked together down the sidewalk. “With a protector like you, I think I’ll have to think about getting life insurance.”
“So we’re still hanging out this weekend, right?”
I sighed. “Yes, but first I have to get to the club, and I’m late enough already.”
He clasped his hands behind his head and studied me with a soft gaze. “You really need to find a better gig than singing in that dirty joint.”
I snorted. “I know what you’re going to say, and the answer is still no.”
“But why not give a recording a chance? I’ve already written a half dozen songs for you!”
I stopped and turned to face him, forcing him to do the same. A sigh escaped me as I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Listen, Mark, I appreciate you doing that for me, but I’m a dime a dozen. There’s nothing special about my voice.”
He frowned and set a hand over mine. “You sell yourself short, Rose. You have the best voice I’ve ever heard.”
I laughed and drew my hand away. “Is that why I finished in the middle of my class in college?”
He wrinkled his nose. “That’s because they made you sing those crappy songs they wrote. You do a lot better with my songs. Speaking of which-” He rummaged through his pocket and drew out a folded piece of paper. “I have a new one for you. You could try it out on the audience tonight.”
I took the paper and unfolded it to read the bars and lyrics. “Wow,” I breathed as I hummed the tune to myself. “I think this is your best work yet.”
He puffed out his chest and grinned. “Nice, isn’t it? I can’t wait to hear you sing it tonight.”
I pursed my lips. “You know Mr. Bumstead doesn’t like you hanging around. Your glares of death scare off a lot of the male customers.”
Tim scoffed. “That’s exactly why I do it. They’re not good enough for you.”
“No, but their money is,” I pointed out as I brushed my hand down the front of his coat. “Thanks for the song, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
He sighed. “Alright, but be careful.”
I tucked the music into my pocket and patted the cylindrical bulge. “I have old faithful here to help me.”
Tim leaned down and pecked a kiss on my cheek. “See you later.” He turned and strolled away.
I watched him go for as long as I dared before I hurried down my own path. That path took me to a dingy old hole-in-the-wall pub where the floor was stained and the walls were weathered. I slipped in through a side door, which had a clear shot of the bar.
