While Dom pays, I wander to the back of the store, my camera hanging around my neck. The light coming through the dirty windows is perfect, it’s unforgiving, showcasing the ruin of the building, casting everything into sharp effects. I raise the camera and shoot the empty shelves, the dust motes floating in the air, the way the fluorescent lights flicker and hum.
Death doesn't always look like bodies. Sometimes it looks like this, places that are dying slowly, fading into nothing, forgotten by humanity.
"You taking pictures of my store?"
I lower the camera and turn. A man has appeared from a back room. He’s tall, maybe fifty or older with a receding gray hairline, clothes that are covered in what looks like old food and coffee and teeth that have never seen a dentist. He also has those mean eyes that you would see on the TV shows when showing a suspect that was being hunted, the kind of eyes that linger too long, calculating what they can take. I've seen eyes like that before, many times on the road. Every town seems to have at least one creepy dude.
"Just the light," I say, keeping my voice neutral.
"That right?" He moves closer, and I can smell him instantly and I want to gag. It’s sweat, alcohol and something sour. "You one of those artsy types? Passing through?"
"I guess so."
"Where you headed?"
"Nowhere in particular."
His gaze drops to my chest, and hovers there. With tits this size it’s hard to hide them, so I accept them. Today I’m in a yellow tank and they look pretty fucking amazing. "Pretty girl like you shouldn't be traveling alone. It can be dangerous out here."
"I'm not alone."
"No?" He glances toward the front of the store, where Dom is still at the counter. "That your boyfriend?"
"Yes."
The word comes out harder than I intended, and his manner switches from chit chat to annoyance.
"He know you're back here talking to me?"
"I'm not talking to you. I'm leaving."
I move to step around him but he blocks my path. He’s not touching me, but close enough that the threat is clear. This isn’t his first time cornering a girl. Perv.
"Don't be rude," he says, his voice dropping lower. "I'm just being friendly."
I’ve learned that every guy that says that, means to be a disgusting pig who can’t accept the word ‘no’. I’m pissed right now. My pulse kicks up, but I don't let it show. I don't let him see the impatience or the anger that’s building. Nor the way my hand is already reaching for the knife in my pocket, the one Dom gave me three days ago and made me promise to carry.
"Move," I say.
"Or what?"
"Or I'll make you."
He laughs, actually laughs, and reaches for my arm, but he doesn't get to reach me in time as Dom's hand closes around his wrist, stopping him mid-reach, and the man's laugh cuts off abruptly. I didn't even hear Dom approach, didn't see him move,but like he has dropped from the sky, he's there, his grip tight enough that I can see the man's fingers turning white.
"She told you to move," Dom says, his voice flat and gravelly. Oh shit, that look does things to me.
The man tries to pull away, but Dom doesn't let go and continues to hold him there, his eyes locked on the man's face, and I can see the exact second the man realizes he's made a mistake.
"Hey, man, we can all get along fine, I was just…"
"Just what?" Dom's grip tightens. "Just threatening her? Blocking her path? Just being a piece of shit?"
"I wasn't."
"You were."
The woman from the counter appears, her eyes wide. "Carl, what the hell is going on?"
