Least Likely to Fall in Love

by Cheryl Harper

  “Liberty.” When she realized she’d said her name slowly and pointed at herself like she was communicating with an alien, Liberty shook her head. “My name is Liberty. Smith. It’s nice to meet you.”

  Ty added nothing to his previous statement. No last name. No pleasantries. No discernible reaction. One syllable that might be a first name or part of a last name or maybe his word for the day.

  She wondered who his people were. Knowing which god was in the family tree might mean the difference in friend or foe.

  Stumped, she turned to Frank who nodded like everything was perfectly normal. “Nice to meet you. Don’t know if Shorty had a chance to explain, but we’ll be taking over the day-to-day operations here.” Ty neither confirmed nor denied. And Liberty had the overwhelming urge to ask what Frank meant by the “operations” comment. New owners. How hard was that to say?

  But Frank was in motion. Liberty cleared her throat, and Ty lifted his chin in acknowledgement. Before Frank could push the door open, someone came flying through it to land on the sidewalk in a pile of fleece and curses. “You can’t throw me out like this. I got business to do. Get Shorty now.” The pile slowly unfolded to stand on the sidewalk in the form of a tall, thin man with no hair and three eyebrow piercings.

  A petite woman with bright blue hair paused in the doorway, her feet braced like she was ready to launch herself if she had to. “Beat it. He’s not here. No, we don’t know when he’ll be back, and no, we don’t want to stare at your ugly face until then.”

  Liberty glanced at Ty. He seemed bored with the whole conversation. The guy took one step toward the woman who narrowed her eyes. That was enough to convince the man who had at least a hundred pounds on her to step back, turn around, and leave, muttering under his breath.

  “Just another day at Titan Pawn,” Ty drawled.

  Liberty raised her eyebrows at Frank. He opened the door. Bells over the door jangled as they stepped into a junk pile. Maybe it was called a pawnshop by kindhearted individuals, but jumbled piles of stuff stretched every direction. Every pawnshop Liberty had ever had occasion to enter had followed basic merchandising rules: put similar stuff together.

  Shorty obviously used a different system. Chaos.

  She’d never make it two days in this mess. Already her fingers tingled with the need to move the three small radios onto the same shelf. Order. Her life had always been crazy at the edges, but her own space, her time, had been planned, organized.

  Liberty turned in a small circle and barely caught the whimper that bubbled in her throat at the idea of living in such a nightmare. Or worse, what might be living in there with her.

  Distraction. She needed something else to focus on.

  If the small woman standing near the door had been twice as tall and covered in two hundred pounds of muscle, she might be Ty’s twin sister. Their expressions were so similar. But no. She was petite, strong, and beautiful. Her head-to-toe black clothing showed no weapons, but there was still something about her stance that said she could be lethal. Another someone on the jagged edges diet.

  She also had more initiative than Ty. “Cindy. Nice to meet you.”

  Liberty shook her hand and tried not to let her surprise at such a sweet name show on her face. Murder. Rue. Stiletto. Something like that would have made perfect sense at the time, but Cindy?

  Liberty pasted on what she hoped was a friendly expression as she surveyed the complete lack of weapons on Cindy’s person. “Are you the manager?”

  “Security.” Cindy’s flinty stare convinced Liberty there might be more than what met the eye. “Manager’s Hannah. She’s in the back.”

  The back? The thought of how the back might be disorganized sent a roll of uneasy indigestion through Liberty’s stomach, and she glared at her brother. “It’s all becoming clear what my role is here, Fink.”

  Clean up. As usual.

  He squeezed her hands. “You love this stuff. As soon as I saw the place, I thought of you. So much to organize.”

  That was the absolute truth. Liberty didn’t even have to weigh his words. She’d been straightening his messes for a long time. In the beginning, she’d been hunting lost shoes or school books. Now it might be car keys or…something bigger. She’d gotten pretty good at finding lost things. Sometimes the impulse was too strong to ignore.

  In her new, boring, completely uncriminal life, she was going to have to practice ignoring it.

  “What can I help you find today?” The cultured tone did not fit Titan Pawn’s atmosphere.

  Liberty and Frank pivoted to see a regal woman with stark white hair and very high heels squinting at them over hot pink reading glasses. Her hands were clasped in front of her and the weak sunlight that made it in the dirty window lit her impressive collection of rings like a sparkling disco ball.

  “Hannah, I’m guessing?” Frank smiled like he couldn’t imagine being more pleased to meet anyone ever. “Franklin Smith. And this is my sister, Liberty. Maybe Shorty told you we’d be by.”

  Hannah immediately wrapped her arms around Frank’s neck like they were reuniting after war. Then did the same with Liberty. For a second, Liberty was reminded of her mother, the only person who’d ever made her feel safe. When Hannah stepped back, Liberty had to force herself to stand still to keep from following in her wake.

  Blinking back tears was ridiculous, especially over a stranger. One she’d know for only a month.

  “Of course he did.” Hannah waved her hands vaguely toward the back. “I was straightening up a little.”

  Only Frank’s tightening grip on her arm kept Liberty from whimpering out loud. This mess was the neat option?

  “You’ve met Cindy and Ty. They’re security. We have a few part-time employees, but Shorty and I split the days.” Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Never know what these kids’ll take to pawn or sell if you leave them in charge.” She slipped gracefully behind the counter. “But we’re all ready to make whatever changes you like.”

  Liberty opened her mouth to explain they’d burn the place down to get a fresh start, but Frank’s hand on her shoulder tightened so she bit her lip instead.

  “We enter every pawn or sale here, take fingerprints, run our daily reports for the police from these computers. Everything we do take in is carefully researched.” Hannah motioned at the computers set up behind the counters, a stack of heavy books that had to be guides, and then waved an old-fashioned business card file in the air. “Have a whole bunch of experts to help out as needed, but the biggest thing you’ll need to know is jewelry. Well, that and paperwork.”

  The diamonds in her ears flashed brilliantly as she carefully took stock of Frank and Liberty, both completely unadorned. Liberty was gauging her chances of slipping one of those rings off without anyone noticing. Of course, they’d have to find another pawnshop to turn them into money.

  Hannah cleared her throat. “Not big on fine jewelry. I’ll show you the scales first. We have a guy who comes in to make repairs one day a week. He’ll help.” Liberty fought the urge to hit the door running. As she expected, this was going to be a lot harder than Frank knew. They’d either fail and get in trouble with the gods, steal something and get in trouble with the gods or the Fourteen or the police, or…succeed. And if she somehow managed to carve order out of this chaos, would she be able to leave it behind? The thundering rush in her ears didn’t seem to disturb anyone else, but catching her breath was hard.

  Inhaling slow and deep, like she’d learned in prison to deal with panic attacks, Liberty trailed behind Frank and Hannah through the swinging door to the backroom. “These are things we’re holding for pawn. We hold everything for three months, as long as the payments are made. After three months, we can put things out on the floor.” She motioned vaguely at shelves covered in a mishmash of items.

  “How do you know what’s where? Or when?” Liberty wasn’t sure she even knew what she meant or that the other two could understand her. Her voice had been choked. Breathless.


  “Everything’s on computer. And this is arranged by…age, I guess. Newest to oldest.” Hannah shrugged like it made perfect sense. Liberty tried to convince herself it did, at least as much as the large taxidermied buffalo staring back at her from beneath a bright turquoise sombrero.

  “Yeah, that’s Herbert.” Hannah shook her head sadly. “Shorty occasionally gets these…whims. Herbert was a whim that now we’ll have forever.”

  Liberty wondered if this chance at running Titan Pawn was another of Shorty’s whims.

  When it passed, what would happen to Frank’s big plans? And how far could they trust a guy like that? Did he float in and out, causing trouble when he went?

  Liberty didn’t need another man like that in her life. She already had her father. Her mother had been the family’s anchor while her father floated in and out. He and his buddies, the “uncles” who’d introduced her and Frank to the more exotic skills like hot wiring a car, pickpocketing at street fairs for walking-around money, and running illegal card games in the park, had taught her enough about whimsical men. They could be fun.

  But when she needed them to bail her out, they were a lot harder to find.

  Just like her father had been missing when her mother was shot.

  Just like he was nowhere to be found now when she’d been released from jail and could have used a hand.

  Meeting a man who didn’t run from trouble had changed her life.

  Then he’d put her in jail.

  Before Hannah could breeze on to the next part of the tour, Liberty closed her eyes, the old familiar scratchy intuition telling her to seek and find. She slowly walked down one aisle, vaguely aware of Frank saying, “No sense in trying to stop her now. She’s in the zone.” The jumbled aisle of laptops, small appliances, and school band instrument cases was a black blur. Bright lights above stung her eyes. The cold chill down her back slowly warmed with each step. Ignoring the pull in the past had meant headaches and sore muscles. Giving in was easiest.

  At the end of the aisle, she paused in front of an old bank vault door.

  When she touched the door, nothing happened. Normally she could feel…something when she located whatever it was that drew her. Had being separated from the real world, locked away in a small spot filled with the bare minimum, erased her skill? Liberty couldn’t decide whether that would be good or bad news. She wouldn’t be who she thought she was anymore, but maybe that would be okay. “The pawnshop has a vault?”

  “Well, not really.” Instead of slick polished metal of today’s high-tech vaults, this one was bronze and covered in artistic icons: trees, flowers, woodland creatures. It was beautiful, clearly one of a kind. Hannah pressed her thumb against an intricately engraved rose, then stepped back. “I guess you’re ready to see this. Whatever you do, don’t touch the spindle wheel. The alarms you would not believe.”

  Instead of opening out, the door swung soundlessly in. Liberty took two steps forward to see another immense bright white room lit by fluorescent lights and filled with more shelves. “Here we’ve got one big safe filled with special pieces. There’s another computer system for these.” Hannah tapped a beat-up laptop perched on a stone table. “Before you start exploring back here, you might want to… Well, I should come with you the first two or three times, until you’re comfortable. Some of these items can be unpredictable.” Hannah smiled encouragingly before she shifted Liberty back and closed the door. Immediately, the ache building behind Liberty’s eyes and the faint nausea calmed. She wiped clammy hands on her rough jeans. Living with this every day would be a misery. And so dangerous. Nothing the gods wanted to keep hidden could be anything but danger.

  Before Hannah could lead them to the next stop, Liberty yanked her arm out of Frank’s hold. “What have you gotten us into now? Why don’t you seem amazed by this magic vault and hidden room with ‘unpredictable’ items, Frank?” Fear and anger made her heartbeat loud in her ears. Their whole lives, their father had warned them to keep away from the gods. Hide from the gods. Hide from police. Stick together. All she wanted was normal. This was a whole collection of crooked waiting to happen.

  It would be a tossup to see whether she and Frank stole something too tempting to pass first or failed miserably to keep someone else from doing the same. She didn’t want this responsibility either way.

  He blushed a little. “Shorty had to make a…quick exit. Before he left, he gave me the highlights: pawnshop front for a special collection of items.” He shrugged. “They belong to a god. This place is a front. For this stuff.” He motioned toward the vault door with his thumb. “I don’t know what’s in there—”

  “But it’s a good plan to have two thieves guarding it, I’m sure,” Liberty interrupted with a bite of sarcasm that was impossible to stifle. Then she turned to Hannah. “How dangerous are these pieces? And why? What’s the punishment for losing one?”

  “Some of them are just silly pranks, like the gods have always been known for, dear. For entertainment at human expense. I’ve made it my goal that they’ll get none from me. But some of them… Well, they’re useful but the prices are high. As long as you understand the game, you have no cause for concern.” The dangerous glint in Hannah’s eye matched her cold tone, and Liberty swallowed hard, her mind swirling with a hundred questions.

  “You know I don’t want this,” Liberty whispered to her brother. The sinking desperation that had lightened with a little freedom settled over her shoulders again. She’d never keep Frank out of trouble if he was the fox guarding the henhouse. Dealing with human police was one thing, but answering to an angry god who’d lost his magic…whatever would be infinitely worse. “I can’t stay, Frank.” One hand pressed hard against her stomach kept the nausea contained, but the prickle of tears behind her eyes was hard to control and nearly impossible to explain. Walking away now, getting some space away from Frank and the vault that was almost sure to take her somewhere she didn’t want to go, was the best choice.

  “Just stick it out until you have a real job, Libs. Okay? You don’t have to stay. Help me settle in and then go on, do what you want, knowing I’m set. Please. You know I need you.” Frank didn’t meet her eyes as he made the promise. Then he asked Hannah, “And what about the apartment?”

  “Oh, are you planning to take over the room upstairs?” Hannah asked, her voice milder, friendly again, as she led them to a door marked “Private.”

  She keyed in a code and the lock popped. “Shorty’s office is here, of course, but there’s a nice apartment he never used.”

  “Liberty should take a look,” Frank said.

  Liberty paused on the stairs to get a handle on the emotions ripping through her. She wanted to go, but she’d be starting with so little. This apartment, a place of her own, and a paycheck could make that new beginning easier. Just once, she’d like to try easy.

  “It’s a studio. Needs a good cleaning and some better furniture.” Hannah unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch.

  After they stopped coughing and sneezing and the choking cloud of dust settled, Hannah and Frank turned to her.

  Free rent, Liberty. Concentrate on free rent and a place to stay without the threat of Frank’s cronies popping in.

  The place wasn’t big, but had more space than a cell and a nice window that overlooked the street. She could imagine the crate under the window filled with her books. And more than anything, it would be nice to have some space of her own, a Frank-less oasis where logic could breathe.

  Hard work. That’s all it would take. And no matter how well things were going or when they took a turn for the worst, that was one thing Liberty could always count on. She might be a thief, an occasional liar, and the most responsible person in the Smith family, but she’d never been afraid to do the hard work.

  Whether it was the jumble of the pawnshop or pulling Frank’s fat out of the fire or building a nice nest out of a dust bowl, she could do it. She’d done it before. Knowing Frank, she’d have to do it again. Might as w
ell make the best of a dirty situation. At least this time, it was only actual, from-the-ground dirt. Nothing illegal. She hoped.

  “I’ll take it. Got a broom I can borrow?”

  AVAILABLE MAY 2015