Page 86 of Haunt the Mall
I guessed this was it.
He was on the clock, after all. We had an audience and a spider carcass to contend with. I took the first impossible step away from him.
Most flings ended in a whimper. Ours went out with a crash. Maybe one day, I could pull my broken heart from the wreckage.
“Bye,” I said softly.
Victor bowed his head. My gentleman. My protective spider man. His actions spoke louder than his words. But what and who was he under this facade? A territorial predator or a sweetheart with teeth? The beast in my chest gnawed on my ribcage. Whatever he was, he’d hurt me. I supposed I might’ve hurt him too.
I staggered to Hot Contra in a metaphorical fog. This wasn’t how today was supposed to go.
Bree slid off the counter as soon as I walked in. “Shouldn’t you still be on lunch break?”
“Yeah, I have to…” Think.
Bree snorted. “Did his dick scramble your brain?”
“What?” I blinked.
She raised her eyebrows. “Look in a mirror babe. He left you with sex hair and smudged lipstick. Must’ve been a quickie if you’re back this early.”
Bile crept up my throat. “Shut up, Bree.” I swiped my fist under my lips and glared into the mirror by the jewelry display.
God, she was right. I looked like a mess, and not just because Victor had ravaged me.
“A spider fell on me,” I said, half numb with pain.
She laughed and leaned on the counter. “Who are you, Little Bo Peep?”
“What?”
“You know, the nursery rhyme,” she said.
I smeared the mussed makeup off my skin. “That’s Little Miss Muffet.”
“Oh, yeah. Peep had the sheep.” She propped her chin up and gave me a wry smile. “Must have been a big-ass spider.”
“It was the widow.”
She shot upright, her eyes alight. “No way. It fell? You could sue the theater. Say you got a back injury or something. Kat, you totally won the lottery.”
“I didn’t win the lottery,” I snapped, and the acid floodgates within me poured open with a violent surge rivaling the power behind that blood elevator in Kubrick’s The Shining. “The manager there took a hit for me. He’s hurt. I’m hurting. But you don’t care about that. You don’t care about me, or Victor, or this job, or anybody. Maybe you should just leave.”
She recoiled and blinked. “Are you serious?”
I sucked in a sharp breath. I didn’t want to overreact like Victor had with Sam. Sure, she didn’t care about anything. She was always late, always lying, always slacking, and always shitting on somebody. But I was angry. Plus, security would be busy, and firing her meant working an open to close again. “Take a ten, please,” I said.
She held her hands up and scoffed. “Fine by me.”
Working alone made it easier to think. Or not think. Once she left, I turned off my brain and put up a Join the Contra Crew placard in the window. Inevitably, we’d get teens who could last anywhere from two hours to two years. Some came back during school breaks and others stayed indefinitely. That was true for any relationship, not just employees. Some people were in our lives for a reason, and others for a season. At least Victor and I had Halloween.
I dragged my fingers through the silver necklace display. The chime of chains reignited bright memories of pulling Victor in for our first kiss at the theater. Of dancing with my coworkers. We'd been brilliant. Happy.
Bree waltzed in but avoided my gaze. Maybe she’d be on her best behavior for a few hours again. She probably worked better when I wasn’t here, reminding her we couldn’t goof off as much as we had when we were teens. We had responsibilities. Now, I owed it to my team to make sure they could grow.
I had to let her go.
Pain pulsed behind my skull. It probably didn’t help that I hadn’t had anything to drink since this morning.