By Clara Bayard
Chapter One
"He didn't really say that."
"He did. The words 'keep up, chubs' actually came out of his mouth."
"Did you punch him?"
"Of course I did. You're my one phone call from jail. Do you have bail money?" I laughed, relieved to discover I still could. For all his hard work at it, The Slug hadn't managed to completely destroy my soul yet.
"I'm broke as hell, but I will sell anything you need if it means that jerk finally gets what he deserves."
"Don't I wish. And you know what the worst part is? Aside from the rudeness and insults? Five minutes later when we were in the storeroom, he was calling me 'sweetheart' in that gross way he does and staring down the front of my shirt."
Anna giggled. "Did he say 'nice jugs, chubs?'"
I cackled in response, my whole body shaking with laughter. I knew my best friend would cheer me up, and Anna had obliged wonderfully. It was a shame we didn't work together any more. Two years slinging pizzas together had been a blur of laughter and fun that was sorely missed since I got a so-called real job that paid slightly better and made me five times as miserable.
When I could finally speak again, my voice was wistful. "I miss you, A."
"Silly, I saw you two days ago."
"I mean I miss spending all day with you, shooting the shit and everything."
She snorted. "What is it you think we're doing right now? Stop being so sappy."
"Fine, fine. But you know what I meant. I'm tired of being the only girl here. Most of the guys are impossible and don't get me started on the smelly locker room."
"Nasty. Note to self: do not visit Carly at work."
"I don't blame you." I looked around the room, frowning. The tiny reception area held my desk, a pair of threadbare chairs and stacks of dusty boxes I'd spent most of the morning lugging up from the aforementioned storeroom. My boss, Mitchell Douglas, or "The Slug" as I usually thought of him, had sneezed after the first trip and bailed, claiming he had an urgent appointment.
"Tell me again why I took this job?"
Anna's sweet, bell-like voice sang over the line. "No more pizza burns and sore feet. Health insurance."
"Oh, right. I'm not sure it's a good trade-off."
"Girl, come back then. Angelo has your apron still hanging on your hook."
"Don't tempt me. I swear, if-" My sentence was interrupted by the door slamming open. A short, scrawny man stomped in with a weirdly dragging gait, scowling. "Gotta go, someone's here. I'll call you later." I hung up and pasted a wide fake smile on my face.
"Welcome to Courier Express. How may I help you?"
The man's scowl deepened as he approached the desk, his arm swinging against a precarious pile of boxes that swayed ominously. "Where's Mitchell?"
"Mr. Douglas is out of the office at a meeting. Did you have an appointment?"
"No." He sneered at me over the high back of my desk that served as a counter. "I was in the neighborhood and figured I would drop in on my old buddy. Will he be back soon?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm happy to take a message for you."
He shrugged, his gaze sliding over the room and back to me. "I'll wait."
"Um, okay. Have a seat. Sorry about the mess."
He didn't move, but nodded at the boxes. "What is all this shit? Ain't it a fire hazard or something?"
"Probably." I tucked a lock of hair that had come free from my ponytail behind my ear. "Just some things from storage."
"Uh-huh." He stared at me a little too long. "So, you got coffee or something?"
"Oh, sure." I stood up quickly, sliding my feet back into the too-small shoes I always kicked off as soon as I sat down. "Cream and sugar?"
"Black's fine, honey." He grinned, and it was somehow worse than the scowl.
I nodded and scampered over to the kitchenette in the hallway. It was rare for someone other than employees to be in the office for more than a few minutes, and something about this man made me uncomfortable. He had a similar greasy, slimy look as The Slug himself, but with an undercurrent of something even worse.
I noticed there was only a thin layer of tar at the bottom of the coffeemaker and groaned. "Sir, I'll need to make a fresh pot, I hope you don't mind waiting a-" I turned and saw the man was now behind my desk, scrolling through the calendar on the computer screen. "Hey!"
I dropped the packet of coffee into the sink and rushed back over. "Sir, you can't do that."
"Oh no? Who's gonna stop me, you?"
"Please. If there's some information, you need I am happy to provide it."
"Settle down, little mouse. I'm just checking to see where your boss is. Won't be a minute."
I bristled at the comment but pushed it away and tried to slide between him and the computer. "I told you, he's out at a meeting."
The man crossed his arms in a gesture I figured he thought was intimidating, but was actually kind of funny. His arms were really short, like T-Rex short, and could barely cross correctly in front of his body.
I stifled a giggle, but felt my muscles relax and my heartbeat returning to something closer to normal. "Please, if you'll just go sit back down, I'll make the coffee and you can wait for Mr. Douglas."
We stared each other down for a long moment before he relented. "Fine. Whatever." He brushed past me and shuffled back around the front of the desk. "Ferocious little mouse, aren't you?"
I bit back a retort. In size or temperament, I was no mouse, but he was finally getting out of the way, which was all that mattered.
"Thank you, sir." I backed up towards the coffeemaker, wanting to keep an eye on him and put some distance between us.
"So polite, little mouse. What are you doing working for a scumbag like Mitchell?"
I'd often wondered the same thing myself. "This is a good job, sir."
"Sir, sir, sir. I like that, little mouse. A girl with good manners and big tits is a rare combination these days." He chuckled and leaned against the counter, clearly enjoying the look of horror on my face.
I didn't know what to say to that. He seemed to be calming down from his anger a bit, so if crude comments was what it took, I'd let him say whatever he wanted. But I did take a moment to turn around and tug the top of my blouse up. It was impossible to hide my cleavage completely in anything but a turtleneck, but showing a little less skin felt suddenly important.
After getting a pot of coffee brewing, I turned back to the man and found his hand digging through a pile of files on my desk.
"Sir, please! If you insist on rifling through my desk, I'll have to ask you to leave."
His hands froze and he grinned at me evilly. "You do that, little mouse. I'd like to see that."
"I…if you refuse to leave, I'll call the police."
He laughed at this and dropped the files. "I'd like that even better. Explain to your boss why the cops are crowding into his office. Here's the phone," he continued, pointing. "Have at it."
My legs felt watery. I'd expected my false bravado to work, send the guy out the door. But now that he'd easily called my bluff, I wondered if he wasn't an even bigger threat than I'd feared. In my experience, the only people unafraid of threats of police involvement were either perfectly innocent or guilty as sin, and I was pretty sure he'd left innocence behind long ago.
"Please," I nearly whispered. "Please just go. I don't want any trouble."
"Oh, I like how you beg, little mouse. Why don't you come over here and ask me again. If you're real nice, I might do it."
One look at his leering face told me getting any closer was the last thing I wanted to do. Whether it was anger or fear, he seemed to like getting any reaction from me, and to be no hurry to leave. I hated feeling powerless like this, intimidated. Every flash of fear fueled my anger and it was getting hard to control. The world probably, and certainly the city, was full of jerks like this guy. Losers who got their rocks off scaring good people just trying to live their lives. It sickened me. But I wa
s smart enough to know not to do anything about it when I was stuck alone with him. Indignation only went so far. And so, blood boiling, I just stood there, ignoring the way his beady eyes bored into me and the smug look on his face.
Finally the man sighed, stood up straight and started to walk towards me again. "I'm getting bored, little mouse. How about a little entertainment while we wait?"
"No," I said lightly, even as my hands shook. "It's time for you to go."
"Now why would I do that?" He grinned again, revealing a mouth full of mismatched teeth, shape and color varying widely.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood up and I curled my fingers into fists, trying to prepare for whatever came next.
The man sniffed the air as if he could smell my fear. He lowered his head and continued his strange, slow walk forward.
My hand reached back and grabbed the still-filling coffeepot without looking away from him.
Our eyes met, intent translating wordlessly from one to the other and back again. The time for playing was over.
But just as I braced to defend myself from an inevitable attack of some kind, the door slammed open and a pair of young men strode inside. I gasped with relief, amazed that the bike-riding slackers were, for the first time ever, a truly welcome sight.
"What's up?" asked Braden, tall and skinny with sandy hair that was always falling in his eyes.
"Boss man bail again?" This was from Darius, Braden's opposite in appearance. He was small and dark with a shaved head and, from what I'd seen since he started, an empty one too.
"Yes," I replied, voice a lot steadier than I felt. "This gentleman was looking for Mr. Dougla,s but I explained I don't know when he’ll be back."
"Sorry, man," Darius said, clapping the stranger on the shoulder, oblivious as usual. "Ole Mitch never tells us shit. Just comes and goes like a fart in the wind."
I watched the stranger's eyes widen in confusion, unsure what to do in the face of the pair of men. In their work gear(t-shirts and shorts that displayed their lean but well-muscled bodies), either one was more than a match for him physically. Together, they could do a lot of damage. I saw every stage of his thought process happen, and sighed a little when he clearly gave up.
"Tell Mitchell I'll be back and he better be here."
"Of course, sir."
He clomped over to the door, glaring at all three of us. "Fucking bullshit."
Once he was gone, I took a deep breath and sagged against the wall, relieved but shivering as adrenaline drained from my bloodstream.
"Nice guy, huh?" Braden shrugged and walked around me to grab a cup. "This fresh coffee? We're just in time."
I nodded. He had no idea how right he was. "You guys need something?"
"Nah, we just left our stuff in the back. Take a load off."
"Okay." I sat down at my desk and dialed Anna's number.
"Carly, thank goodness. I thought you were going to have to actually do some work."
"Sorry about hanging up like that. Something came up."
"No worries. Hey…are you okay?"
"Uh-huh." I twirled a lock of hair around my finger nervously, not wanting talk about it yet.
"You're the worst liar ever. What happened?"
"Nothing. Um…I'll tell you all about it later. I need to get out of here."
"You sound weird."
"I feel weird."
"Carly, you're scaring me. What's wrong?"
"There was just a creepy guy here. He just spooked me a little."
"More than a little, I'd say."
The familiar sound of my friend's worried voice was soothing.
"It wasn't a big deal. Just another asshole."
"Look, I don't like how you sound. Why don't I come over to your place?"
"Don’t you have to work tonight?"
"I'll call in. Tell Angelo it's a female problem."
I smiled. "Does that still work?"
"Every time. Say yes."
I didn't want to admit how much I needed just that, a night of fun with the person who knew me best in the world. "Okay."
"Excellent. I'll meet you there."
"We can order something and watch a movie or whatever."
"Or whatever. Don't you worry about that, I have the perfect evening planned."
"Planned? You just thought of it."
"Oh, honey, I've always got a night of fun working in the back of my mind. You know that."
"Yeah, okay. See you at my place in half an hour."
"I'll be there with bells on, as they say."
I shook her head. It wouldn't surprise me if Anna did show up at my door wearing bells. The girl was out of her mind in the best way possible.
Chapter Two
I stood in my bathroom wrapped in a robe, frowning. "I changed my mind. I don't want to go."
"Too late. You've showered and I laid out something for you to wear," Anna said sternly from the doorway.
"How did I let you talk me into this?"
"Two beers and dinner. You're easy like that."
I giggled. "Shut up. And don't change the subject."
"I'm not. And if you're a good girl and put some makeup on without whining, I'll give you one of the little bottles of tequila in my purse."
"Tequila? I'm in." I rolled my eyes and unzipped my makeup bag with sarcastic speed.
"Carly Chase, you will go out with your best friend and have a good time tonight." Anna crossed her arms and glared, about as intimidating as a sleepy kitten. "Or else."
"Fine, fine. You win. Open that bottle and I'll be out to shoot it in a sec." I shook my head and retreated to the bathroom. I applied eyeliner, mascara and lipstick before working on my still-damp hair until it hung in dark, soft waves over my shoulders and down my back. A careful glance at my face showed it was still pale from the scare at work. A little blush hid the evidence, but left the knot in my stomach.
Anna knocked on the open door and placed a pile of clothes on the counter before retreating without a word. I grinned, knowing that for all of our bickering, we shared a deep bond that always made me feel better. I rifled through the clothes and rolled my eyes again. Anna had even selected my underwear. How could such a small person be such a big, bossy pain in the butt?
But I still put on everything she'd selected. Once dressed, I had to admit my friend had picked well. My curvaceous form looked sexy and casual without crossing over into slutty. The black tank showed a hint of lacy bra if the light caught me right. And the jeans highlighted the roundness of my hips and rear-end while holding in the corresponding jiggle.
I sprayed a tiny bit of perfume, picked a piece of lint off my right thigh and left the bathroom.
"Damn, C, you look hot." Anna, now clad in a miniscule dress that wouldn't fit on one of my legs, bounced in her chair with happiness and pride. "Let's go make the men of this city drool."
Her enthusiasm was infectious, and after a shot of the promised tequila, I was ready to do just that. Thoughts of the day's stress faded into the back of my mind as we finished preparing for the night, gathered jackets and purses, and left.
After the short bus ride and walk down to the club, I was still a bit on edge, but glad Anna had insisted we go out. At home, I'd be spilling the details of the day and wallowing. Shuffling forward slowly in the line outside the door I was freezing, but happy.
We finally got to the front and handed over their identification. The bouncer looked both of us over once and then shined a light on the cards in his hand. He passed my ID back quickly, but spent a longer moment scrutinizing Anna's driver's license.
"You'll be getting carded at fifty," I muttered.
Anna flipped her hair and cocked a hip, flashing her most flirtatious smile at the giant wall of a man in front of us. "Damn right."
The bouncer laughed. "Have a nice time, ladies."
I had to drag my friend inside after that performance. "Come on. You can throw yourself at someone inside."
The tiny blonde grinned. "
And I will. But he was pretty sexy."
"He'd crush you."
"It would be worth it."
"Oh boy. Let's get a drink before you make me sick."
We both giggled as we pushed through the growing crowd to find a spot at the bar.
"Do you think he gets cold out there all night in just a short sleeve t-shirt?"
I shrugged, waving a twenty-dollar bill to get a bartender's attention. "Probably. But I'm sure they switch off."
"Hmm. Maybe I should go rub his massive biceps to keep him warm."
"Pace yourself, A. And no more tequila. I forgot how slutty it makes you."
"That isn't the booze. It's the lack of hot man in my bed for weeks."
With a snort, I gave up on getting a drink and turned around, looking over the club's first floor. There was a small stage across the back wall, but instead of a setup for a band, there was a set of turntables for a DJ. The space in front of the stage was in use as a dance floor, though so early in the night there were only a few people out there. Most were in corners or at the bar, getting the night started and scoping out possible partners. A few trailed upstairs, where I knew from reading about the place that there was a more lounge-like atmosphere.
"Hey, why do they call this place 'The Cellar' anyway? It's on the first floor and there are windows."
"How should I know. Maybe it's supposed to be ironic?"
"If so, that's moronic."
"Ha-ha. Who cares. Quit analyzing the place and let's start dancing."
"Okay. Doesn't look like we're getting drinks right now anyway." I took a couple steps to the left while looking over my shoulder back at the bar. Which took me just long enough to run right into someone. My head whipped around as a wave of cold liquid spilled down the front of my shirt and the man I'd collided with.
"Fuck," he said, at the same time I yelped.
Our gazes met and we both burst out laughing.
"Sorry." He swiped a hand over his broad, well-muscled chest where a wet stain was spreading. "Wasn't paying attention."
"No, it's my fault," I insisted. "I was complaining about my inability to get a drink and now I have one." I looked down and sniffed. "I believe it's a stout of some kind."
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