Page 10 of Zodiac Monsters

She glanced at the sales floor, her eyes moving subtly from one rack to the next, then she dipped her chin and looked at herself. “I don’t know if any of these styles suit my body type.”

I tilted my head to the side in confusion. I was fairly certain I had plenty of clothing in her size, and I could see at least four different dresses, blouses, and pant combinations that would complement the contour of her wide hips and soft waist line exquisitely. Perhaps the current selection simply wasn’t to her taste. It didn’t matter how well suited the clothing was for her shapes if she didn’t like how she looked in it. If I’d learned anything from long arguments with mother in my early apprenticeship, it was that fashion was entirely a sport of opinion. “If that’s how you feel, then I’ll be happy to work with you to improve the inventory. It’s best to be at least a bit hip and modern.” Maybe I would discover a new style working with her. I could learn a lot from a feminine perspective.

Lila laughed, and it was a soothing sound. “‘Hip’? You sound like an old man.”

Oh no.Did that make me sound elderly? Devil have mercy, why was interacting with people my age so difficult? What was I supposed to say? My parents always said ‘hip’ to describe the clothing we sold, but I was out of touch with my classmates and how they might describe the same thing. The folly of being too introverted, I suppose. I wanted to ask what it was that the youths would say, as my grandmother had often asked me when she was struggling to connect with young customers, but it fortunately occurred to me before I said it that such a statement would reflect even more poorly. I was going to ruin this friendship before it began if I couldn’t get this down.

I noticed my jaw had locked and my teeth were clenched. I concentrated on relaxing the muscles before I attempted to come off as normal again. “An inside joke. My parents always say that. I’m only twenty-four.” That felt smooth. Acceptable. It was much easier to interact with her in the library when she was simply asking questions about magic-kind. History and lore were my expertise, while social faux pas was not.

“You’re older than me.” She said with surprise. “It seems like most of my classmates are people who went to college straight after high school, so I’ve been a bit self-conscious about being older than everyone else, even though I’m only twenty-two.”

Interesting. Twenty-two was a very appropriate age.

For… what exactly? Why does her age in relation to mine matter? My head was in so many strange places today.

“I should have done the same, but my grandmother fell ill in my last year of high school, so I was working here full time until she recovered. After I’d been running the family business successfully for a few years, I no longer planned to go to college at all, considering my career path was well established, and I was quite good at it. But my parents insisted I get an education before I take over. It would be disgraceful for the son of the Arya line to be uneducated, I was told.” I pursed my lips, uncertain why I was telling her all this. And yet, I felt compelled to continue. “I started at Graves last year and switched to working part time here. I’ll admit it hasn’t been the worst decision.” Not now that I’ve met you anyway. I shook my head, like the physical action would throw out that intrusive thought. “But sometimes I still struggle with relating to your average person my age.”

Lila’s smile lit up the room, and it seemed I’d gotten that answer correct. “You’re about as cool as I am, I’m gathering.” She approached and stood beside me at the register. Her demeanor was impressively disarming. “So how can I help? I’ve worked in retail, but it wasn’t for very long. Most of my job history was as an assistant at an observatory.”

Interesting. “It’s nothing difficult. Considering we share a calculus class, I assume it’s safe to say you can handle basic math.” I nodded toward the old fashioned and straightforward cash register, then tipped my head, signaling for her to follow me around the counter. “The layout will change occasionally as we introduce new designs for different seasons, but in the general day-to-day, all you’ll need to do is straighten out and refold clothing, or reorder some hangers as customers disrupt the space. Otherwise, it’ll just be dusting, wiping down surfaces, and simple manual labor.”

“Seems easy enough.” She followed along as effortlessly as I’d expect.

I tipped my chin next towards the backroom, as our small boutique didn’t require much more of a tour than a basic glance. She’d shopped here before anyway, so she already had a feel for it.

“And back here we have over stock, among other things.” She followed me into our small staff area, containing both storage and the workshop. It took little more than a two second survey of the space to notice the obvious. The employee bathroom, the safe, the boxes of fabric, buttons, zippers, and other such materials, the shelves of completed, ready-to-wear merchandise, and the wall of raw sketches. Though I couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes lit up as her gaze landed on the sewing area.

“Wait, do you…” She paused, like she was trying to decide if her question was valid or offensive. Then she concluded with, “Does your family make all of the merchandise?”

I blinked a few times, trying to parse the meaning behind what must have been a rhetorical question. “Yes, of course we do.” I didn’t understand what she was asking at all. Where else would we get our clothing? What was the ordinary expectation? Had I missed something? “Some of the designs are my mother’s, some are my father’s, and some are mine. We have a range of tried and true classics, but even those are modified and customized on some level to react to current trends and market demands.”

“Really? So you can sew?” Her eyes were saucers as she moved her surprise from the sewing room and back to me.

“My family owns a clothing boutique.” I repeated this clear and definitive statement, not sure where I’d gone wrong. “Do humans own clothing stores without having the ability to provide and modify the merchandise?” A cultural difference. That was the only explanation for her confusion. I’d admit I’d not been outside Graves in many, many years, so perchance I wasn’t the most worldly. Lila hadn’t struck me as particularly more travelled and cultured though. In a way, we might be on similar levels of sheltered existence. It was difficult to travel when your family owned a local business, and any vacation in my youth had been to meet with suppliers.

“I don’t think it’s a human versus magic thing.” She rubbed her neck sheepishly. “A lot of our stores just buy their clothing from distributors and sell whatever is fashionable or inexpensive.”

“How impersonal.” I immediately chose to forget that human world fun fact as soon as I’d learned it. Such depressing information wouldn’t serve me, and I’d rather not waste the space in my mind bank with something like that. Instead, I chose to segue this into something more interesting. “Do you know how to sew, Lila?”

She scrunched up her button nose. “Kind of. My mom taught me the basics of the basics, but I don’t know if I’m good for much more than re-attaching a button.”

I crossed my arms and tipped my chin in acknowledgement. “We can fix that.”

I was about to return to the front room to resume my usual shift, when she turned to look at the closed doorway just beside the rear exit.

“Where does that lead?” Her tone implied that there was something ominous about the door, and her dramatics were adorable.

“My apartment.” I tipped my head to the side slightly. “My parents live in the suburbs, but I took over the second floor of the shop to shorten my commute. Would you like a tour of my room as well?”

“N-no, of course not.” Her cheeks lit up with a warm red, as beautiful as freshly spilled blood. “We should probably go check on the storefront and make sure there aren’t any customers waiting,” She said in what I assumed was an attempt to change the subject.

She was quite cute, indeed. I wouldn’t admit that her reactions had my own heart racing a few extra beats per minute. Whatever she was picturing as a result of touring my room, I probably would be best to not ponder on any further. After all, I still didn’t know what she was, and I couldn’t let her drag me into her pace. She was charming, and I was interested in knowing more, but she was also a dangerous unknown right now for someone like myself. It might be best I start trying to get some answers out of her sooner than later if my physical reaction to her presence continued to be so strong.

We returned to the front of the shop, where I let her shadow me for a few simple transactions as customers came in and purchased their goods. A young woman bought a lovely dress that my father had designed, a man picked out a birthstone necklace for his girlfriend with a little help from my extensive knowledge of Zodiac based gems. When the store had been empty for long enough, Lila finally breached the subject I knew she’d been waiting to talk about.

“So you’ve lived in Graves your whole life?” She started organizing the selection of earrings like a nervous tick.

“My whole life.” I confirmed.