Page 6 of Haunt the Mall
I rapped my nails on the counter. “Hey.”
He inhaled sharply and flinched, soda foam ricocheting off the extra-large cup rim.
Geez, I didn’t mean to scare him. “I want to see The Widow, but it won’t let me buy a ticket for the current showing,” I said.
He fumbled for a napkin. “The Widow?”
“Yes.” I smiled, all teeth.
He glanced at his register as he wiped off his shirt. “Uh, you can’t buy a ticket once it’s past a certain point.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ll miss the movie.”
I already did—and I wasn’t about to again. “What if I’m fine with only seeing the second half? I can pay full price for a ticket. Or buy one for another movie as long as your scanner-person lets me in.”
“Uh…” This guy was out of his depth. And obviously trying not to look at my tits.
I had to expedite this situation. Bracing my palms on the counter, I leaned forward. “I hate to ask, but can I speak to your manager?”
The kid tensed. Why was he so scared? I wasn’t gonna yell at him. This would take two seconds. Maybe hanging out under the watchful eye of that spider animatronic had gotten to him.
I twisted my shoulder in an unassuming pose and chuckled. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna hassle him. I’d just love to solve this quickly so I can get my monster fix.”
“Oh, okay. One sec.” He dialed out on an ancient handheld with a few degrees more confidence and stuttered through a greeting and explanation to his manager. Flushing, he glanced my way. “Um, yes.”
“Yes, I can go in or—”
He shook his head and gestured to the phone. “No?” he said to the person on the other line. After a beat, he handed it to me. “He wants to talk to you.”
Cradling the receiver, I put on my sweetest customer service voice. “Hello. I’d love to see The Widow within the next forty-five minutes. Can you help me?”
A cool, graveled voice dripped from the other end of the line, scraping my insides from sternum to groin. “Do you like scary movies?”
Did I also like breathing? I twisted the curled connective wires on the phone, not sure if he was quoting the Scream film franchise villain or legitimately asking. “I guess you could say that, Ghostface.” Any horror buff would get the reference.
He chuckled. “Why would you pay full price to only watch the second half?”
“That’s when all the fun stuff happens.” Presumably, with the climax.
“And what do you consider fun, Miss…?”
“Silver.” I smirked. Was this guy flirting with me? Normally, I’d roll my eyes, but something about his calm, mysterious timbre kept me going. “I like all kinds of things.”
“Oh really?”
“Really.” My thighs chafed as I leaned on the counter. Was he going to ask me to suck his dick for a movie pass?
Squirrel-boy shuffled away from his station to grab a mop, which was probably a good idea, considering how wet this conversation was making me.
“Here’s the deal, Miss Silver: I suggest you enroll in our preferred program,” the manager said.
Did those customers get to sit on his lap while he whispered dirty nothings in their ear? Because if so, I was in.
I stroked my neck, my imagination tingling with his phantom breath. “What does that entail?”
“A modest annual fee. You get complimentary tickets. Any time frame,” he said.