It doesn’t hurt that Jethro’s makes great shrimp tacos and has the best corn tortillas. Having Celiac disease keeps me on my toes, but I’ve made it my business to learn what restaurants are safe for me to eat at.
The gluten-free vegan place around the corner is my go-to, but I’m not vegan. I like most foods, obviously, and I like meat just fine.
Jethro’s is another of my local haunts, and flirting with Jason, the bartender, always boosts my spirits. He is funny and kind. A nice clean-cut guy who matches my five-three height. I'm not attracted to him, but sometimes I feel like I should at least give him a chance.
As great as his personality is, though, the zing just isn’t there, no matter how much I tell myself to make it be. He is the antithesis of my preferred morally gray antiheroes and the beefcakes I can’t help but be attracted to.
Closing time is here at last, so I wrap up the spreadsheets I’m working on and collect the cash from the drawer. I don’t keep much in the antique register because most of the transactions go through the little plastic gadget next to it. But as valuable as a lot of the shop’s contents are, cash would be the most tempting target for a thief, so I deposit it regularly for safety.
I place the money in the bank bag and toss it in my enormous vintage tote. It is one of my favorites, but the thing is like an abyss, and I could probably lose a small child at the bottom. I remember to put my phone in the smaller pocket, so it doesn’t get lost.
With keys in hand, I step out the door. I lock up Grimm and zip down the alley to my rear apartment door. This time, I don’t run like I’m being chased by the devil himself. Instead, I walk like a normal person, and once inside, I take my time getting ready to go out.
I leave my hair up in its retro do but I swap the jeans for high-waisted sailor button black shorts. I dress them up with large hole fishnet stockings and a red halter top to match my bandana. The shirt looks polka dotted at first glance, but on closer inspection, it has small bats on it.
The warmer weather is just starting, and I am excited about wearing some of my summer clothes. I pop in a pair of dangly bat earrings to coordinate with my copper pendant I had picked up at an art show.
The bat is crafted from copper reclaimed from a church downspout. It holds onto the black cord with its little clawed hand, so endearing.
My Death’s-head Hawkmoth ring goes onto my index finger. It is one of my favorite finds from the last steampunk convention. I love shopping there and can’t wait to be a vendor at this year’s event.
I touch up my makeup and add a bold red lip to match my shirt and wing out my cat eyeliner a little more. Despite being tired, I look surprisingly good, if I do say so myself.
I head to my closet and peruse my shoe collection, trying to find the perfect complement to this outfit. It is only a few blocks to the bar, so I contemplate a pair of heels but at last go for ease of walking and choose my cherry red Chelsea boot Docs.
Sensible footwear really does make sense, since I have to walk an extra few blocks out of my way to make the bank deposit. I swap my wallet from the bottomless pit tote to my red leather coffin-shaped backpack, adding the deposit bag to drop off on the way.
I took my time getting ready, so by the time I leave, the sky is a little darker than I expected. I put a little hustle in my step and head out.
As I walk to the bank in the early summer evening, I realize I was a little too enthusiastic about breaking out my warm weather wardrobe. The slight breeze wraps chilly fingers around my legs to caress my skin. I’m thankful I wore boots. At least my toes are toasty.
The stars’ feeble attempt to compete with the light pollution from the city while the fingernail moon plays peekaboo with the clouds leaves little natural light. The streetlamps start to space out as I walk, allowing pools of inky darkness to form between their warm glow.
I speed up, wanting to get this errand out of the way so I can get to my end goal a little quicker. The spooky shadows tease me, making a hot meal and a drink to warm up my insides seem even more welcome now than they did earlier.
In a quick ten minutes, the fluorescent glow of the bank’s lights welcomes me. My feet hit the empty parking lot and I again get a prickling sensation at the back of my neck. But this prickle is different and uncomfortable, not at all like the McHottie prickle I’ve started to become accustomed to, even craving it. I can’t believe I still don’t know his name.
My gut starts to churn, distracting me from my thoughts of the enigmatic stranger, and this feels like trouble. Not the good kind.
I roll my eyes at my overactive imagination, telling myself to just hurry and get the deposit done. Perhaps I should switch to some sweet romance and quit feeding the dark parts of my brain. I contemplate that for a second but then snort out loud at the thought. I love my morally gray book boyfriends.
I straighten my spine, square my shoulders, and widen my stance, trying to appear larger than my five-foot-three frame. I’m again thankful I chose reasonable footwear, but rather than for warmth this time, in case I need to run.
Despite my assurances to myself that I’m being silly, I still want to be sensible and won’t totally ignore my intuition. I lift my chin and breathe deep, channeling confidence.
I listen in to the night sounds around me, filtering out the traffic on nearby streets and the other myriad noises expected in any suburb, like distant honking and, further out, church bells. Hopefully, my guardian angel is close, even though it’s been ages since I last thought I saw him.
I don’t hear any footsteps or an approaching car, but keep scanning my surroundings, looking for the perceived threat setting my instincts off. Swinging my backpack off, I grab the deposit bag and the bank key, then settle my backpack securely back on my shoulders.
I try to unlock the night deposit box, but my hands are shaky and sweaty from nerves, which makes gripping the key and turning it difficult. I feel like this is taking forever.
At last, I get the lock open, drop the deposit in, and close the drawer with a large exhale. Relieved, I try to keep up the charade of confidence, despite my pounding heart. As I turn to walk away from the bank, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
Turning back toward it, I see a large shadowy figure emerge from the bushes by the alley behind the bank. In the dark, I can’t make out anything other than size. Large. Or maybe even extra-large. It looks like they are coming this way.
I take a deep breath and prepare to make a run for it. There is no way I can take on an attacker who is so much bigger than me. I will fight like hell if I get caught, but running to a more populated area seems the safer bet. My heart pounds in double time.
My hand drifts to my back pocket to grab my phone from its usual spot when I remember I purposefully stashed it in the little pocket of my other bag so it wouldn’t get lost.Damn it, Lieshe,I curse myself for forgetting to grab it. A low growl interrupts my self-flagellation.
