2
Megan
The guy dressed in biker leathers peers out the door again. The door rattles like something is banging into it. He scowls. “Is there another exit?”
I step behind the counter like it’ll offer me some protection. I have some fairy statues I can throw, but I’m pretty sure any breakages will come out of my pay. There are scissors under the counter…but to use them I’d have to get close to him and I don’t want to do that. He's giving off a very dangerous vibe that is making the hair on my arms stand on end.
“We’re closed, so I need you to leave.” My voice isn’t as stern and hard as I’d hoped for.
He glances out the door again, and then back at me. “Yeah, that’s not going to be possible.”
Is he being chased by the cops? Or a gang? While he’s wearing a leather jacket and boots, there are no patches to indicate he’s in a club.
“Whatever trouble you’re in, staying here will only make it worse.” I’ve already put the money in the safe so I can’t give him anything. I rock from one foot to the other, not sure what to do. I should call the cops, but I’m not sure they’ll help the situation. Guns don’t usually make things safer.
There is another exit out the back and into the alley, but I don’t want to tell him that. I need him out so I can lock up and go home for another exciting evening in front of the TV, making the earrings and bracelets that I sell online to supplement my income. Being a fairy princess doesn’t pay very well.
The windows rattle, but I can’t see anything out there. That doesn’t stop dread from turning my blood cold. “What’s going on?”
He gives me a cool once over. “I’m not sure you’d believe me even if I told you.”
“Try me.” I cross my arms. “What have you got to lose?”
He lifts his eyebrows, and my heart gives a rather stupid flutter. I vowed no more bad boys who need taming. I’ve managed to stick to that promise for almost six months—mostly because I haven’t been on any dates.
Just because he’s pretty doesn’t mean he’s trouble. But he looks like trouble incarnate. If we sold fairy statues for negative traits instead of the positive like grace and tranquility and such, he’d be the one for trouble. Because of his clothes…I shouldn’t be so quick to judge.
“This shop sell anything real?”
“What do you mean? Everything is real.” I tap the counter to make my point.
Keep him talking. Maybe I can find my phone and call the cops. While he’s checking out the window, I reach under the counter and grab my handbag. I swipe the door keys off the counter like I’m ready to push him out the door and leave.
“You have a lot of fake fairy junk; do you have anything actually from faery?”
Ah…it's drugs, that’s what his problem is. He’s hallucinating. Definitely trouble. I should trust my instincts more.
The window shakes like something is hitting the glass, and it’s about to break, but there’s nothing there. The mall is empty. My stomach knots, but he has to be hallucinating. And the window? There must be a storm coming, and the wind has picked up.
“Well?” he asks.
“Most of it is made in China.” I hold the keys, so they are like claws between my fingers. “I need to lock up, and you need to leave.”
“You can’t go out there.” He puts a hand on the door.
If we fight, he’s going to win. He’s taller and stronger.
“Are you keeping me hostage?” I reach into my bag and grab my phone. This has become a call the cops situation.
“No, I’m protecting you.”
“From what?” I glance out the window, there’s nothing to see. But I can hear something.
The wind, that’s all. You’re just freaking out because you are scared.
“If you had a faery stone, I’d show you.”
“A what?”
