by Shade, S. M.
“Of course you do,” he agrees. “I’m the most modest.”
We’re drawn away from our silly conversation by shouts coming from across the street. Two men I’ve never seen are screaming at one another and a crowd is starting to gather around them.
“Do you know them?” Wyatt asks.
“No, they don’t live here.”
Both men are obviously drunk, and no one intervenes when the most ridiculous attempt at a fistfight kicks off.
One man, wearing a white tank and cargo shorts, shoves the other. The momentum sends both of them to the ground and we watch as they take a long minute to get back to their feet. The other man is clad in only a pair of basketball shorts that are hanging too low.
“Was my beer, you chuckle fuck!” white tank guy slurs.
Jani rolls her eyes. “They’re fighting over a beer? There are coolers full of free drinks everywhere.”
“Hush, we’ll miss the show,” Noble says, stepping up behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders. I’m a little surprised she doesn’t shrug him off or kick him in the balls or something, but she just focuses on the fight in front of us. Which only gets funnier and more pathetic.
At least four punches have been thrown, but none connect, and they spend the majority of the time circling each other. The guy in the basketball shorts keeps closing one eye, trying to see straight. It must work because he finally manages to punch tank top in the mouth.
Tank top shoves him down, wobbles on his feet, then grabs a political sign stuck in the yard to steady himself. Too bad the sign is made of poster board. It gives way under his weight and he goes down again.
Pissed off about the punch, the other man gets to his feet and grabs the sign, yanking it out of the yard and coming at tank top with it. That would be funny enough, I mean, what the hell does he think he’s going to do with a flimsy sign? It isn’t until tank top screeches like a fifties woman who just saw a mouse, and tries to run away, that the crowd really erupts into laughter.
“All right. I think that’s enough.” Two officers step up from behind us. I didn’t even notice them pull in. Tank top spews a line of curses and insults a mile long while he’s being cuffed, but the other guy isn’t going to go down so easily. At least he doesn’t think so.
He pivots and tries to run, but the second officer just sticks out a foot and down he goes. He flops hard onto the grass, sliding a bit, which pulls down his shorts, baring his ass to the crowd, that roars with laughter.
“Police brutal, bolice prutality, police brutality!” He yells as the officer cuffs him, stands him up, and pulls up his shorts.
The crowd cheers as the two men are charged with public intoxication and lead away.
The sun is just beginning to set and it won’t be long until the big fireworks show. “Come on,” I urge Wyatt. “I want to get dried off before the fireworks.”
“After I get you wet, you mean.”
“Too late.”
“You’re killing me, woman.”
“Too bad I’m still closed for business. But I might have a little something for you.”
After a very satisfying shower, we head back outside for the fireworks show. The local radio station nearby puts on a big show that’s set to music, and it’s visible from our little circle. Afterwards, the shit really hits the fan when everyone else sets their own fireworks off.
Blankets are spread across part of the park and we find an empty place to sit. Wyatt sits behind me while I curl up between his legs. His arms slide around me, pulling me back against his chest. He’s warm and I’ve never been so comfortable. Someone tunes their radio to the correct station and we watch the flowers bloom in the sky as Bruce Springsteen’s Born in the USA blares around us.
It strikes me how amazing today has been. Wyatt fit in with my crazy neighbors and friends, and I’m learning more and more about him. It never feels awkward or forced. It’s like I can be myself with him, and I think he feels the same.
As the fireworks dwindle, his phone rings and he excuses himself to answer it. His expression when he returns makes it clear something is going on. “I have to take off in a few minutes.”
He hands me a set of keys. “I need to leave town to deal with some issues at my other store. It’ll only be for a day or two, but the store is yours until I return.”
What?
“You want me to run it while you’re gone?”
A smile breaks across his face. “That’s what I hired you for. You have the number to the security firm if you have any additional trouble, and they’ll be there as usual to keep things under control. You can always call me if you need help with something.”
I’m not worried about the store. I just don’t want him to leave. The thought flashes in front of me like a big, red warning sign, and I swear I hear a loud buzzer in my head accompanying it. Abort! Abort! Feelings are being caught!
“Sure, no problem.” I shrug. “I hope everything’s okay at your other store.”
We walk back to my place together where he kisses me goodbye and promises, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
* * *
It feels strange to be the one opening Scarlet Toys. This is how it’ll be when Wyatt leaves town for good. I hadn’t really thought of the responsibility I’ll have when that day comes.
“Hey Boss Lady,” Clarence says, approaching me as I unlock the door. “Wyatt messaged to let everyone know you’re running things.”
“He’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“There seems to be fewer protesters today,” he remarks, clocking in.
“I noticed. It’s still early, though.”
“Do you want me on the register?”
I’ve never been in a manager’s position before and it seems weird to give orders. I suppose I’ll get used to it. “Yeah, I’ll set up the new display.”
Everything is quiet for the first hour or so until one of the security guys asks me to walk outside with him. The protest is back in full swing, but that isn’t what he wants to show me. He walks me to my car, and I freeze. My passenger side windows are shattered. The front one is completely gone and the back is barely hanging in the frame.
“What the fuck?” I exclaim.
“I’m sorry. I’ve already called the police and messaged Mr. Lawson. He wanted to know if there were any problems.”
Of course, it was one of the self-righteous assholes who did it, but I don’t know how. “How did they get past your guys to get to my car?”
He sighs. “They didn’t.” He reaches inside the car and produces a pellet. “They shot the windows with a pellet gun. One of my guys got the plate number, so I’m sure they’ll catch them. I’m sorry. This happened on my watch.”
I look up at the large man who seems genuinely stricken. “It’s not your fault. You can’t predict crazy and these people are definitely one banana short of a fruit salad.”
My phone starts ringing and I’m not surprised to see Wyatt’s name appear. “Cassidy, are you okay?” Wyatt asks, not even giving me a chance to say hello.
“It was just my car windows. The store is fine.”
“I was asking about you, not the store.”
“I’m fine. The cops are on their way and your security got the plate number.”
“Good, I’m arranging for a garage to pick up your car and a rental will be delivered before the end of the day.”
“My insurance doesn’t cover a rental.” It doesn’t cover vandalism either, but I’m not telling him that. “I’ll bum a ride from Jani until I get it fixed.”
“This happened because you work for me. I’m fixing it. End of. If you want to close up for the rest of the day—”
“No,” I interrupt. “We’re fine, really. You put me in charge so you need to trust me to handle this.”
There’s a pause before I hear him chuckle. “I obviously chose well. Call me if anything new comes up.”
“I will.”
The cops show up and take my statement, but t
hey’re more interested in talking to the security guys since they witnessed what happened, so I head back inside.
The sight of cop cars in the parking lot doesn’t deter customers, if anything, it seems to bring them in as everyone wants to ask what happened and pass around the gossip. I’m actually glad when we hit a lull in the afternoon.
The bell on the door dings, and in walks some familiar faces. “Hey Cass,” Noble calls. “Jani working today?”
“Not until four.”
“Cool.”
Noble is accompanied by a few of the other Frat Hell guys and they all browse around, laughing and teasing each other. “Do people still buy porn on DVD? Don’t they know Pornhub exists?” Denton laughs.
“You’d be surprised. They sell pretty well,” I reply.
Denton is the only one to purchase anything, and the other guys laugh when he places a giant box of condoms plus our biggest bottle of lube on the counter.
“Trying to keep your Fleshlight clean?” Noble taunts.
“Nope, I like to leave my own special sauce in there so I know you assholes won’t touch it. These are for the house.”
“Community condoms aren’t a bad idea, but community lube? No way,” Kenny says.
“Like you ever get laid,” Denton scoffs.
“I’m not the one resorting to plastic pussies.”
They keep up the back and forth until Noble asks why the cops were here earlier. After I explain, he steps back. “Fuckers! Don’t worry, we’ve got your back.”
It’s sweet, but it’s also not what Wyatt would want.
“We have the cops dealing with it, but thanks.”
Noble peeks out the front curtain at the yelling, marching crowd. “They don’t give up, do they?”
Clarence laughs. “Not with the sin of masturbation running rampant. At least that’s what they like to yell.”
“Fucking ridiculous,” Noble grumbles.
Clarence regards me after they leave and the store is empty. “They’re going to do something stupid.”
“Probably,” I sigh. This manager shit might be harder than I thought.
True to his word, my car is picked up and a rental left in its place before the end of my shift. I end up staying until close because I don’t want to leave Jani and Martha alone after what happened. By the time I get home, I’m exhausted. Twelve hour shifts suck.
Wyatt calls and promises to be back by the following night. We chat for a few minutes before I turn in for the night.
Tomorrow has to be better.
Chapter Five
The protesters seem to be emboldened by the events of the day before. There are more than usual, yelling and carrying their signs, and security has to keep them away from the building.
This shit is really getting old.
Clarence is opening with me again and we spend the first hour arranging a new shipment of lingerie. Jani shows up early and bursts inside, laughing too hard to talk.
“Cass! Come on!” she struggles, yanking open the front curtains. “You have to see this!”
My first thought is that I told those idiots not to retaliate. It’s quickly replaced by a feeling of pure bliss as I burst into laughter. The Frat Hell guys are out front and they’ve brought friends. A lot of friends.
The whole group of boys are shirtless and most have some kind of saying written on their chests and backs. They also carry signs like the protesters, but with vastly different slogans.
They’ve just joined in the protest like they belong there and tears run down my face from laughing, not just at their antics, but at the expressions of the protesters.
I spot Noble, his chest smeared with red paint and Masturbation is Murder. Every sperm counts! scrawled on his back. He’s marching beside a guy holding a Smut Peddlers Burn in Hell sign, and the guy doesn’t look pleased. Maybe because Noble’s sign is drawing far more attention.
Hugs not Butt Plugs! is printed in solid black letters and is apparently the slogan of the day since Noble and the Frat Hell guys are chanting it, drowning out the others.
Denton is a few feet behind him, chanting and carrying a sign that reads, Dildos are a DilDON’T.
“Oh my god!” Jani exclaims. “What the hell is that?”
A person jumps out of a car in a T-rex costume. A sign dangles from one of the little arms that reads, Fappy the anti-masturbation dino says hands off!
It’s a damn mad house out there. The original protesters are going strong, only stopping to give dirty looks to the newcomers who are mocking them. The guys’ chant of Hugs not butt plugs is growing louder by the second. I need to do something.
Carl, one of the security guys, meets me just outside the door. “We can’t stop anyone from protesting,” he explains, chuckling. “As long as no one is getting hurt, we have to let it continue. Maybe they’ll actually run some of them off.”
A scream of “Real men don’t fuck plastic cooter!” rings out. Carl’s gaze meets mine and we both lose control. My sides ache from laughing.
“I know who the ringleader is.” I point out Noble. “Can you ask him to come in and talk to me?”
As fun as this is, and no matter how much they deserve it, we aren’t going to get customers with all this going on. I need to put an end to it.
Noble enters with a huge smile on his face. “Fappy the dino has a crowd twerking with him! You’re missing it!”
Crossing my arms, I try to suppress a grin. “Didn’t I tell you not to antagonize them?”
A smirk raises his lips. “Antagonize? We’re just joining in. Masturbation does a lot of damage, you know.”
“To your palms, maybe,” I laugh. “Look, Noble, I appreciate the effort, really, but I’m in charge for the next few days and I need to keep this shit under control.”
“Fine, I’ll call off the guys.”
Noble follows me back to the sales floor, and I peek out the front window where a few outraged shrieks reach my ears. Fappy the Dino is now marching with a giant super soaker and spraying random protesters. One of them—a middle aged man—shoves him and knocks him onto his back where he lies, legs cycling in the air as he tries to get up.
Noble smiles at my giggles. “Those tiny hands are a bitch. I’d better go. Don’t come outside for a bit. That’s not just water in the super soaker.”
Oh shit.
“What’s in it?” I ask, pulling the curtains shut again.
“The poison ivy leaves from my backyard may have found their way into a bucket of water and soaked overnight.”
Jani approaches from behind us, a horrified expression on her face. “You didn’t!”
Noble shrugs. “I wasn’t sure it would work, but Denton poured the water into the guns this morning and dripped a bit on his wrist. He had a rash within an hour.”
Jani gazes at Noble with what I could swear is awe and admiration. Apparently, she’s impressed. “Damn, I’m gonna start calling you Ruth,” she says, shaking her head. “Cause you’re ruthless.”
“You can scream whatever name you like when we’re in bed,” Noble replies, and Jani scoffs.
“All right. Go call off your friends before things get any uglier,” I order. Noble nods and heads for the door, turning back when I call, “Hey, Noble! Thanks.”
Grinning, he nods again and disappears outside.
I can’t resist watching out the window as Fappy proceeds to mess with one of the older male protestors. Sneaking up behind the guy, he grabs the sides of his No Smut! tee shirt and starts to hump him. The man spins around and shoves him, dropping his sign, and Fappy snatches it up, chasing him with the stick end, as if he’s going to plant it somewhere really uncomfortable.
Noble grabs Fappy’s tail and holds him back, yelling something at him. Fappy drops the sign and lowers his head, plodding back to the van they came in. The whole thing is complete chaos, and I see a few people filming with their phones, so I have a feeling I’ll be seeing this scene again.
A few minutes later, the crowd is gone
, other than the original protesters. I can’t help but watch from the front window while more and more of them start scratching at themselves. Within an hour, there are only a few people left and all of them have bright, angry welts on their skin.
Customers have come in pretty regularly throughout the day, despite the turmoil surrounding the building, and I’m happy I’ll at least be able to give Wyatt a good sales report, even though everything else hasn’t exactly gone to plan.
It’s late afternoon, and we’ve hit a bit of a lull when an older man charges through the door and demands, “Who was in that dinosaur costume?”
“Excuse me?” Jani says, putting on her fake, customer service voice.
The man has a poison ivy rash on both of his arms, and by the way he’s scratching, I’m willing to bet there’s more under his shirt. “What he did was assault! Everyone who got sprayed has a rash! Who knows what he had in that squirt gun!”
Clarence approaches and pretends to study the man’s arm. “It’s poison ivy, or maybe poison oak. Either way, you need to wash it and get some cream or it’ll keep spreading.”
“Assault!” the man shouts again.
Carl steps in the back door. I nod toward the guy, and Carl approaches him. “You need to leave the premises,” he warns.
The man jerks away from him. “I’m not going anywhere! Look what they’ve done to me!” He sticks out his arm and gestures towards us.
“They haven’t left the store all day thanks to your little group. If you’d like to lodge a complaint, I suggest you contact the authorities. Right now, you need to leave or I’ll remove you.”
Carl is not a little guy, and the man must hear the truth in his voice because he huffs and stalks toward the door. “I’m calling the police! I know you know who was in that dinosaur suit!”
After he slams out the door, I turn to Carl. “Thanks for coming to the rescue.”
“That’s my job.” He grins and drops his voice. “Any idea who the t-rex was?”
“No, but he has my thanks.”
“Crazy protesters, a dancing t-rex who sprays poison ivy water on them, young guys chanting about butt plugs. This may be the most entertaining assignment I’ve ever had,” he says with a chuckle.