by Jenny Wood
“We have two of the house computers in use and three tablets checked out. Two for the week, and one for an hour.” Claire tells me, as she makes two cups of French vanilla, iced coffee.
“Great, thanks. Mary Henley turned hers back in, I assume?” I asked, knowing Mary Henley was always a day late and a dollar short, every time she came in here. She never turned anything in on time and always tried to haggle my book prices, even though most of them were way too cheap as it was. Still, she was one of our best customers so, I didn’t give her too much trouble about it. Plus, she was only 13.
“She did and her mama came in and paid the late fee.” Claire rolled her eyes but then smiled. She knew how challenging that girl could be. I almost felt sorry for her mama.
“Hey, do you know that kid over there? Tall, black hair, big hoodie? I see him in here from time to time but he never checks out with me and I never catch him leaving.” I asked her quietly; wanting to at least know the kid’s name.
“Mmmhmm.” She huffed. “That’s Douglas Perry. He’s a punk, alright. I caught him trying to walk out of here with a book last week. I dang near had to chase him down. I told him no more of that stuff or I’d have to call his folks. He rolled his eyes and got a card, so, I reckon he hadn’t done it again, since.” She says while now entering new books that we’d just gotten from the thrift store, into the computer.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I stopped digging through the boxes and asked.
“I thought I had it handled. He didn’t actually steal anything so I didn’t want to get him in trouble.” She answered, staring back at me with wide eyes
I sighed and agreed, I guess she had a point.
It wasn’t minutes after we’d brought up that the kid in the oversized hoodie, passed by me at a shelf I was rearranging; when his shoulder slammed into my shoulder and made him drop the tablet from his front pocket. He scooped it up and continued to walk out.
“Sir, you didn’t turn in your tablet!” Claire called out to the kid but he just kept walking. “Excuse me! Douglas!” She yelled again and tried to go after him but I held up my hand to stop her. I didn’t know this kid but if he’s taking something that doesn’t belong to him, right in front of us, he’s not going to listen to her if she follows him outside. So I do.
“Excuse me, Douglas is it?” I try, following him out the door. “If you want to rent that for the week, you’re more than welcome. It’s cheap and you already have a card. Just go in there to Claire and she’ll set you up.” I try again, but he doesn’t turn. I put my hand on his arm to stop him but wasn’t expecting him to turn as quick as he did or for him to tower over me in anger.
“I know you didn’t just put your hand on me, faggot.” He snarled loudly; spittle flying from his mouth into my face. While it wasn’t the first time someone had called me that, but again, I wasn’t expecting it and it stopped me up short.
“I just wanted to tell you that you could rent that tablet, but taking it out of the building without renting it, is stealing. Cl-Claire tried to tell you but you weren’t listening. I need you to hand it over or go back in and rent it.” I tried to seem unfazed but he was towering over me and if I was being honest, it was scaring the shit out of me. I really should have thought this through a little better, but I’ve never had a problem like this before, not like this.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He backs up and looks around.
“The tablet, in your jacket. It belongs to the bookstore.” I tell him unnecessarily; he knows it does, he’s just trying to steal it.
“You accusing me of something, Cho-Mo?” He crowds me again, trying to intimidate me and it’s working.
“I called Sherriff Lang, Con; he’ll be here in 10,” Claire called to me from the door. That seemed to piss the young man off, because, without warning, he reared back and hit me square in the nose. I doubled over in pain, hands holding my face. I could feel the warmth of the blood pouring down my lips and chin and making my shirt stick to my chest. I couldn’t help but cry. Seeing people on TV get punched in the face and snap back like nothing happened was crazy. This hurt so bad, I thought I was going to throw up, the pain was so intense. I couldn’t open my eyes or seem to stop them from watering on their own.
“Hey, man. Hang on, let’s sit you down here for a second.” I hear a baritone voice beside me as he helps me to the sidewalk to sit. I look up through the blur of teary eyes to see tatted up, Kayson Kennedy- the man I’d been watching from afar. His golden brown eyes are all I see while he’s gripping my chin and turning my face this way and that. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen up close and I curse not being able to see him in all this inked up glory from across the two-lane street on a daily basis.
“Here, take this rag.” Claire is suddenly at our side, shoving a towel at Kayson.
“What the heck were you thinking, Conner? You should have let him go! Look at your face!” She squeals, frantically. I’d actually forgotten that I just got punched in the face, while I was getting lost in the golden depths of Kayson’s eyes. It’s then that I notice my shirt is covered, my hands are covered and from sitting here with my knees bent up to my chest; even they are getting covered with thick, sticky, blood red, splotches. It’s more than I can handle and the next thing I see… is nothing.
If you’ve gotten this far; I hope you enjoyed my story of Kingsley and Morgan! I absolutely loved writing them both. Everyone’s patience and support has been one of the best parts of writing such emotional characters and I love everyone’s kind words. If you haven’t yet; you should “like” my Facebook- author page, or follow me on Goodreads and Amazon. It’ll let you know when I have a new release and sometimes teasers and first looks at what’s coming up next. *You won’t want to miss Jody and Cameron*
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American Brain and Tumor Association www.abta.org