Page 87 of Haunt the Mall

I slipped into my office and double-checked security footage from her last few shifts to make sure I was doing the right thing. Customers blurred into trailing ghosts. The sped-up footage melted my brain. That was probably why found footage films used jump cuts to get to the interesting bits.

I shook my head and chuckled at my employees, who’d clearly forgotten they had a camera on them. AJ picked his nose and posed in front of the mirror when he thought no one was looking. Willow barely moved for hours and lurked like some cursed girl in the corner with her hair in front of her face. Bree often sat on the counter and played with her phone. As I suspected, she’d dumped the clothes last night and only sorted a few so she could leave early. But while she hung the last of her stuff, she side-eyed a customer by the costumes. Was she judging them? Or were they being weird? I slowed the footage and zoomed in.

Bree thrust open the office door.

I jumped and clutched my cross. “Oh my gosh, can you knock?”

“You got a delivery.” She dropped a takeaway container on the desk. “I didn’t think we could order food or drink to the store.”

“We can’t.” I frowned and paused the surveillance playback.

“You must be an exception.” She flashed me a vicious smile. It didn’t reach her eyes. She sauntered out of the office and yanked the door shut behind her.

What the hell was she playing at? I hadn’t ordered anything. Was this a prank? Or poison?

I opened the container. Steam curled around my fingers as I took in its contents: chicken fingers and fries and the order slip with a little heart on it.

“For my wife. – V”

Fuck, that was romantic. I took a bite of meaty deliciousness. My heart ached more than my stomach.

Somehow, amid the spider-crash-chaos, he’d remembered me. And my lunch. He probably even reheated it. I scratched the faint bite mark on my collar. This was true romance, wasn’t it? But could it be ‘true’ without the full truth? Why couldn’t he be vulnerable with me?

I crept out of the office, fully expecting him to be standing at the register. All I caught was a familiar hunched silhouette slinking past our window display.

“Hey,” I called.

Everyone else turned, but my Spider-Man couldn’t hear me.

Would it be weird to chase him down?

“Hey, Kat, I need some backup while I’m on register.” Bree stuck her ass out and gestured to the dressing room.

“Yeah, one second.” I wanted to chase down my man, but I supposed my job came first. The curse of management.

I went into the office to grab the dressing room key and stopped short in front of the computer. On-screen, a teen spinning a jewelry display peeked beyond its rails at the empty cashier’s station. I zoomed in on his face and hit play. The teen fidgeted his way around the store, taking more interest in the employees than the merchandise. A chill pricked my skin. I knew that teen. I raced through the footage.

From the looks of it, Sam the Squirrel-boy had been sneaking around Hot Contra ever since my promotional party. Was he stalking or shopping? The fisheye lens warped his head into a flat disc as he tried on a killer clown mask. The villain with a garish smile and rotten teeth would have no problem biting me without any happy ending. I flexed my fingers over the screenshot button. It was time to unmask the men from the cineplex.

37

Staunch the Wound

Teenagers loitered in our store on a regular basis. I figured it was because their parents wouldn’t let them buy our brand. Sometimes they were desperate enough to commit petty theft. The creep-o’s were the ones who tried to hold us hostage in conversation:

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“I bet you’d like to use these chains on me.”

“If I buy you $100 worth of underwear, will you send me the used pairs for another $50?”

No. Fucking psychos. Some of them liked it when we got mad. Dominatrix vibes, I guessed. But if we picked up the phone to call security (and our fake boyfriends), they’d scurry away with their tails between their legs.

One word from Victor should’ve been enough to scare off Sam. Victor said he’d warned him. For what? Something must’ve tipped my Spider-Man over the edge.

Was it the question about other girls?

If I’d asked a fling if they were seeing other people, they’d have admitted it, broken things off (since I’d gotten too attached), or casually denied it. Victor obviously cared more than them. So why wouldn’t he have warned me about a legitimate threat like a stalker?