by Cassie Cole
“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” I said. “Yours and Max’s.”
Finn winced. “Yeah, about that.” He pointed across the gym, where the manager was arguing with one of the other trainers. Whatever they were discussing, the manager didn’t look happy.
“What’s that about?”
“Max’s points scheme,” he replied. “Our boss isn’t happy with him promising bonus points to members who purchased something at your store. He’s going to honor the points, since it would be even worse to upset all those members, but some of the other trainers aren’t happy about it.”
I grimaced. “I was afraid of that.”
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing Max is leaving soon to train full-time. It’s the only thing keeping them from firing him.”
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you getting in trouble?”
He grinned and lowered his voice. “Thankfully, no. Max is taking all the heat on this one.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. If you had gotten in trouble, or even fired, for helping me… I don’t know what I would have done.”
He cocked his head. “You care more about my job than Max’s?”
“Max knew he would get in trouble,” I replied. “That’s all.”
Finn shook his head and grinned. “Nope, what I just heard is that you care more about me than Max. And I’m totally fine with that.”
He was incredibly sexy while joking around that I wanted to kiss him. But I knew that would definitely get him in trouble.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” I whispered, brushing my fingers on his arm in a sensual goodbye gesture.
He pulled out his phone. “Too late. I’m texting Max as we speak.”
I laughed. “I’ll see you later for my workout.”
I showered, changed, and went to open up the store. I had given Paul the day off, so I had the store all to myself. It felt quiet and peaceful after the chaos from yesterday. It was nice.
For the first few hours.
It was a slow day. Very slow. Even after closing the store for lunch, and returning in the afternoon, things didn’t pick up. We had only four visitors all day—two of whom actually purchased something. I told myself this was to be expected after the blow-out yesterday.
But then Sunday was slow, too. It was a ghost-town. I caught up on inventory and accounting work in the office while Paul ran the register, but every time I poked my head out, the store was empty.
“You can take the afternoon off,” I told Paul when I returned from my lunch workout.
“Are you sure, boss-lady? Sunday is usually our busiest day…”
I swept my hand across the store. “Clearly that’s not the case today. Go home and play videogames or something. I’ll put you down for a full eight hours worked.”
I didn’t need to tell him twice. His eyes widened and he grinned. “Alright! I got the new Call of Duty game and I’ve been dying to put some hours into it…”
The afternoon dragged. One person came in, perused the Heavy Metal section, and then left. I peered out the window and watched them walk down the street to Pacifica. Our inventory was lower than usual, but we still had copies of all the latest Heavy Metal albums. What was the problem?
After a few hours twiddling my thumbs, I switched the store sign from OPEN to CLOSED and went down the street to my competition.
Walking into Pacifica was like entering a college library. It had a high ceiling, giving the store an open, airy feel. The lights inside were warm and inviting. The rows of records were clean and precise, with wide aisles of space between them. Comparatively, my store felt cramped.
No matter how I wanted to feel, walking around inside felt nice. There was a drink bar in the corner. Not only did they serve coffee, but they had four craft beers on tap as well. A handful of people were drinking and chatting about the latest Eminem album that had been released unexpectedly a few months ago.
They weren’t the only customers, I saw with dismay. Plenty of people were perusing the rows of albums. Comfortable leather chairs were spread throughout the store next to tables with record players. Most of them were full of people wearing headphones, listening to music. This was how a normal Sunday afternoon should look.
“Welcome to Pacifica Vinyl!” an employee said in passing. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”
“Just browsing, thanks.” I paused. “Actually, I am looking for something. Do you have the limited edition version Aja, from Steely Dan?”
He narrowed his eyes in thought. “The 1977 version? On gold and orange colored vinyl?”
“That’s right,” I said in surprise. It was an obscure request, one that a customer had asked me about during the Friday sale. I couldn’t believe this twenty-something kid knew what it was.
“I think we still have one or two in the back. Stay right here.”
He ran off, and returned a minute later with the album in hand.
“You’re in luck—this is our last copy.”
“I’m impressed you knew which album I was talking about,” I said slowly. “Do you guys go through training?”
He laughed. “No training on music knowledge, but I sold two copies of this yesterday, so I remembered where it was.” He tapped the price tag. “That price doesn’t reflect the grand opening sale we’re running. Twenty percent off all records.”
I gawked at the price. It was ninety-nine dollars, which was very cheap for a limited edition album like this. Normally it would sell for one-fifty.
“Anything else I can help you with?” he asked.
I frowned. “What about audiobooks? Carry any of those on vinyl?”
His face became a mask of apology. “Unfortunately we do not.”
I felt a moment of satisfaction until he went on.
“Some of our other stores carry audiobooks, and they just aren’t a big seller,” he said simply. “Not worth carrying hundreds of records worth of inventory just to make three sales a month, I’m afraid!”
I winced. So much for that part of my business taking off. I held up the album he had fetched for me and said, “Thanks for the help.”
“No problem!” he said happily.
I shopped around the store for another ten minutes. The prices for all of their albums were competitive with mine. Cheaper in many cases. I ended up buying the Steely Dan album because I was too embarrassed to tell the salesperson that I didn’t want it. The check-out person told me that I would receive an additional five percent discount if I signed up for their email newsletter. I numbly typed my email into the screen, then left with my album.
When I returned to my store, I had an email confirmation waiting in my inbox. Attached to the email was a coupon for another twenty dollars off my next purchase over a hundred dollars.
Discounts upon discounts upon discounts. How could they afford it? Did their number of stores allow them to make larger purchases with better bulk prices? Or were they intentionally undercutting my prices to establish market share?
The email scheme was a good idea, too. I should have been collecting emails yesterday in conjunction with my sale. Every email address was a direct way to contact a customer without paying for advertisements.
I felt down on myself for the rest of the afternoon. Pacifica knew what they were doing. Compared to them, I didn’t have my shit together. The Friday sale might have been a momentary victory, but it was quickly becoming clear that it was just that: momentary. Pacifica was like a freight train, steadily moving forward with too much momentum to stop.
Long-term, there was no way I could compete with them.
When I closed up that night around eight, I intended to go to the gym and work off some stress on the treadmill. But it was a beautiful April evening, cool but not cold. Perfect running weather.
I changed clothes in the store and then went jogging down the sidewalk. It was tougher than running at the gym, I quickly realized. Different muscles were required to push the body forward, compared to just
running in place on a treadmill. For the first few minutes I felt out of shape again.
I slowed my pace and fell into a groove. One thing I noticed was that the breeze outside helped me stay cooler than in the gym. Sweat beaded on my face and neck, which sucked the heat away from my skin. It was refreshing.
Running outside made me feel free.
As I ran down Magnolia Street and into one of the adjacent neighborhoods, I zoned out and let my mind drift. Max and Finn were the first things that came to mind. I was so happy with both of them, happier than I ever thought I could be. I was still anxious about their plan to share me. Surely it wouldn’t last forever. One of them had to eventually want me all to themselves.
But until that happened, I was excited to see where things went. I loved the possessive way they acted around me, vying for my attention and affection. During the sale, they both tried to one-up each other to see who could be the most helpful. They made me feel like a woman, sexy and desirable. It had been a long time since I felt that way.
Yet as satisfied as I was with both of them, I couldn’t stop thinking about Brody. His betrayal was still fresh in my mind, especially now that Pacifica was open and thriving. He had helped orchestrate all of it. Without him, Pacifica wouldn’t be there.
Would it have been better if he told me back in January, I wondered? I couldn’t decide. But at least then I wouldn’t have gotten my heart broken.
Because that was the most frustrating part of the entire thing: I missed him. His presence in my life, and at RMF, had pushed me to work harder. To win the points contest. Without him, I wouldn’t have become a better version of myself. That was a fact I couldn’t ignore.
Worse, I had begun to think about a possible future with him. I could have moved to California with him when his contract ended, especially if my store was on the decline. I could have started fresh. His betrayal stung most of all because it meant that possible future was now gone forever.
It was a good thing Max and Finn had agreed to share me. Without them, I don’t know how I would have gotten over Brody.
I ran through the neighborhoods adjacent to Magnolia Street, up and down the rows of early century Craftsman houses. I ran for an hour and headed back to the store. When I was two blocks away, I stopped to walk as a cool-down. Everything was dark and peaceful, which was very different than running in the brightly-lit gym. I liked it. I would have to do this more often.
I rounded the corner toward Vinyl High, then stopped dead in my tracks.
One block ahead was a dark figure in front of my store. A hood covered his face. He pulled something from his pocket, then inserted it into the door. Keys.
The door opened, and he disappeared from view. Seconds later, I got a notification on my phone that motion was detected inside my store.
“Mother fucker,” I cursed. The burglar was back!
I immediately pulled out my phone and called the police. “We have a cruiser two miles away,” the woman on the phone said. “Did it appear that the suspect was carrying a weapon?”
“No idea. I was too far away to see.”
“Do not engage until our officers arrive,” she told me.
I thanked her and hung up. Like hell I’m not going to engage.
I approached my store slowly, ducking down underneath the windows. When I reached the door, I peered through the glass. He wasn’t in the main room. I turned the doorknob slowly, then silently swung the door open. I left it ajar for the police, then crept through the store toward the back room. I could hear a rustling sound inside.
On the counter next to the register was a box cutter. I extended the blade and held it out in front of me, took a deep breath, and then stormed into the back office.
“Don’t you fucking move!” I shouted.
The burglar was bent over my computer keyboard when I caught him. He stood up straight and put up his hands cautiously. Up close, I saw that he wasn’t wearing a hood—he was wearing a ski mask, just like in the video Paul had shown me. The ski mask was brown, with little white splotches on it. It was vaguely familiar.
I was confused by it, until I realized what it was.
“Hot chocolate… marshmallows… That’s my ski mask!”
I gasped.
“Brody?”
41
Katherine
I didn’t believe it was him. My mind couldn’t accept it, even after the words left my mouth. There was no way this could be Brody, in my store right now. It couldn’t be Brody who broke into my store last time.
He slowly removed the ski mask, which also removed all doubt. His blond hair was messy and his face was redder than normal, but there was no mistaking those crystal blue eyes. Now it did make sense. The burglar hadn’t been walking slowly out of caution: it was because he had a stress fracture in his foot.
The man breaking into my store was Brody. Someone I had been vulnerable around, and had slept with.
“Kat,” he said carefully, “I can explain.”
The computer screen was black with white text, in some program I had never seen before. A thumb drive was plugged into one of the USB ports on the front. It looked like data was being copied.
“Are you stealing my data?” I demanded.
“I need it,” he replied. “I wanted to see the results from your sale, so I can analyze it and compare it to Pacifica’s grand opening…”
“It wasn’t enough that you convinced them to open in the first place?” I spat. “Now you’re helping them by stealing my sales data?”
He took a step toward me. I tried to back up but I ran into a stack of album crates. “Kat, if you give me a few minutes I can explain everything.”
“A few minutes? The truth should be simple,” I shot back. “I don’t want to hear your excuses or your lies.”
His eyes shimmered as he touched my arm. I slapped it away. Suddenly, alone in the back room, I didn’t feel safe.
“I am still in love with you,” he said softly. “I can’t get you out of my head, Kat. I feel like I ruined everything.”
“You did! You ruined everything when you kept the truth from me!”
He grabbed my arm and kissed me.
I’m ashamed to admit that for a few short moments, it felt good. I melted into his lips and his embrace and forgot everything that had happened. As we kissed, I started to think that maybe we could just pretend like nothing had happened and go back to where things were two weeks ago.
But then the feeling ended, and I shoved him away.
“How did you get into my store?” I demanded. “When I slept with you, and you woke up in the middle of the night. Did you steal my keys?”
He swallowed hard. “I had to make a copy, so I could get in without you knowing…”
I made an upset noise. “That was before I learned you were working for Pacifica! Even when I was blissfully ignorant, you were plotting against me!”
“I didn’t want you to know,” he insisted. “Not until it’s over. I’m trying to help you, Kat, you just have to trust me!”
I laughed in his face. “How could I ever trust you again?”
There was a noise out in the storefront, and a loud knock. “This is the Denver PD!”
“We’re back here,” I called. “He’s unarmed.”
“Please, Kat,” he pleaded with me. “Give me five minutes to explain…”
The police entered the room swiftly. One of them pushed Brody against the wall and began cuffing him. The other turned to me and said, “Are you Katherine Delaney, the store owner?”
“I am.”
They asked Brody a few questions, and he admitted to breaking into the store with a key he had stolen off me. They led him back through the store to the police cruiser, which was bathing the street in blue and red lights. They opened the back door and lowered him into the cruiser.
A large figure came jogging down the street toward us. “Kat! What’s going on!” Finn called.
“Sir, please stay back…” one of the officers sai
d.
“He’s with me.” I turned to Finn. “It was Brody. He was breaking into my store.”
Finn’s normally easy-going face twisted with rage. He pushed past me and pounded on the cruiser window with his open palm. “You motherfucker!” he shouted. “I swear to God if you ever come near Kat again…”
I tried to pull Finn away, but it was like tugging on a brick wall. Only when the officer pushed Finn away and threaten to taser him did he finally back off. But his hands were still balled into fists at his side, and he exuded strength and anger.
He glared at the cruiser as it drove away.
I had to admit: seeing Finn go ape-shit was a huge turn-on. I wasn’t the kind of girl who wanted to be protected by her man, but it was like a primal switch had been flipped in my brain as soon as Finn appeared. Having someone like him around made me feel comfortable. Safe.
I wanted to jump his bones.
Max came running up next. “You guys okay? What happened?”
Suddenly I was overwhelmed with the situation. As the adrenaline left my body, I began to shiver and feel like I was going to cry.
“Let’s go get a drink,” I said.
The three of us walked a block to a sports bar. The Colorado Rockies were playing on the massive television, but we chose a booth in the back corner by ourselves. Finn got a beer, and I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. Max abstained with a comment about training.
As soon as I took a sip of my drink, everything crashed down on me at once and I started crying.
“Kat, what’s wrong?” Max asked gently.
Finn rubbed a palm on my back. “Brody. He’s the ass-wipe who broke into Kat’s store. He was stealing her computer data.”
“That’s… Not… Why…” I tried to say, but I was in the throes of an ugly-cry, and it was tough to breathe.
Both of them comforted me for a few minutes while I let it all out and got a hold of myself.
“Brody broke into my store, stealing my sales data for Pacifica. But that’s not why I’m crying.”
Darkness fell across Finn’s face. “What else did he say to you? I swear, the next time I see him…”