by Noella Royce
"I'm sure. I just got the feeling she didn't want me in her store, like, at all."
"Oh, don't take it personally. She's that way with everyone who comes in the store she doesn't know. Her employees actually prefer she doesn't work the register as she tends to scare so many customers off. It's really counterproductive for a place that's supposed to be all-inclusive and welcoming. She's just territorial."
"I'll try not to worry, but she's still scary."
"She's also dating Frank," Amari pointed out. "If you want an introduction, he can probably handle it."
That made me pause. "An introduction? Why would I need an introduction?"
They exchanged another one of those cryptic glances. "Oh, she's got tons of influence in this town among those not in government or working at the university."
"Some would say she's the leader of the disenfranchised around here, even." Kristen was being obscure again.
"She's into civil rights?"
"Kinda."
That wasn't a helpful answer at all. I shook my head. "Man, when I lived in LA, I'd thought some of the things there were insanely weird. So far, though, Maywen takes the cake."
"Valid," Amari said with a nod.
"Totally," agreed Kristen. She still had that knowing grin. I was going to have to get her drunk one of these days and pry out what the hell she was always insinuating because, at the moment, I had no damn idea.
"So you guys will warn me of any other bizarre stuff in Maywen that I don't know about, right?"
They exchanged a glance, and Kristen turned, mumbling something about having to straighten the sketchbooks. Amari started shuffling things behind the register. "Some of that stuff isn't ours to share, Veda."
I narrowed my eyes at him. "You understand what you just said is creepy as hell, don't you? Like so much of what you guys say about this place?"
He was silent, and I sighed and moved on.
Both of them avoided me for the rest of my shift, and that meant I was given too much time to stew on my horrific financial situation. I came damn close to bursting into tears while dusting the art markers.
As I got ready to leave, Amari stopped me, expression concerned. "You okay, Veda? Did something else happen?"
I wiped my eyes with my forearm, the show of sympathy making me even weepier. "I'm sorry, Amari, I just found out some bad news about my money and it's got me really down. I'm so sorry for being a shitty employee."
He shook his head. "No, no, you're fine, really." He petted my arm. "I hear you; if it wasn't for my online clothing shop, I'd be living in the street."
"You have an online shop?"
"I do! I design and make my own clothes." He looked very proud. "I'll text you my store so you can check it out. I do custom work too."
There was an opening there for me to tell him all about my costuming and to bond over design and sewing. But I'm a coward running from my past, so I didn't. I simply nodded, told him I couldn't wait to see his designs, and went into the back to grab my things.
Speaking of running, maybe I needed to again, go crawling back to my friends and restart my life.
There was a whisper in the back of my mind, a tickling of laughter that formed into words. No running, my dear. We need you.
I started, looking around for the speaker, but I was alone.
Maywen was literally driving me nuts.
As I headed to my bartending shift at Tangerine, I tried to avoid thinking about money and instead concentrate on seeing my cute coworker, Jordan, again.
I was pondering his very pleasant smile and fine arm muscles when the earth started to shake. "Whoa!" The ground trembled again and the lights flickered, and I looked around in shock.
Was there really just an earthquake in the northeast? Would that make it two in a couple of days?
I was rattled, no pun intended, when I knocked on the back entrance of the club.
Jordan opened it and gave me a wide, devastatingly handsome grin.
"Hey, stranger," he said cheerfully, and I swear he was checking me out. "Feel that crazy shake?"
"Yeah, I did. It's like I'm back in California." I returned the favor of giving him a thorough once-over. Judging by the widening of his smile, he didn't mind.
"I'm sure it is." He tilted his head at me. "Wasn't sure you'd come back after seeing the crowd on Tuesday night. Did I overdo it with the shots?"
I laughed as I stepped in and brushed past him with a little smile. Man, he smelled good, like expensive but mellow cologne and his deliciously masculine hair products that kept that perfect wave in his golden locks. "I survived, but barely, and that crowd is exactly why I came back." I let him walk in front of me so I could shamefully—okay, shamelessly—watch his ass. "I think it says something for the culture in this town that you got fifty- and sixty-year-olds shaking their groove thing on a weekly basis."
"I know; it's pretty great." Man, he was cheerful. We reached the bar, passing Trish, the barback, who gave me a little wave. "There's a lot of things that happen around here that have me all sorts of confused and amused."
As we settled in behind the bar, I tried not to watch Jordan like a cupcake I wanted to bite into. He had sandy hair that was shot through with lighter blonde, giving him a beach feel, but without the toasted skin that was common among his California counterparts. Polite, gym fit, and rockin' both a sweet smile and the hint of a tattoo on his hand, Jordan was a straight woman's wet dream.
"So remind me what night tonight is, again?" I asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.
"Tonight, my dear Veda, is a good ol' 80s night." He started to stack glasses, and I stood up and went around the bar to help him. "I actually quite like this crowd; they're not as cranky as some of the 70s night people but not as wild as some of the nights when the students show up. They're largely here because they love the music."
"Excellent. I appreciate not being slammed with craziness my first couple of nights here." It also meant less money, but I was trying to look at the bright side of things. If I didn't, I might do something stupid, and I'd done enough of that in my life.
"That's an excellent attitude," said Jordan as he grabbed a bunch of clean glasses from Trish, and I inwardly preened. The guy liked optimistic girls. I could be that, at least sometimes.
The door from the back swung open as I was cutting fruit and a gorgeous redhead walked in. I recognized her instantly. This beautiful, lean woman with the amazing hair was the same beauty I'd seen making out with Mr. Velvet two nights before. Would it have been creepy if I'd just jumped her to ask what the hell was up?
Also, the Tangerine clearly liked to hire stupidly attractive people, because she was as gorgeous as Jordan was handsome. Her hair was a gleaming copper and fell down her shoulders in wonderful waves, and her makeup was perfectly balanced. I suddenly felt inadequate, although I brushed it away. It wasn't her fault she was a genetic superstar.
"Who's that?" I asked Jordan, who was checking the alcohol stock.
"Oh, that's Erica; she works as a waitress in the VIP lounge." Of course she does; it amused me that this small-town club had a VIP section, one I wouldn't be allowed to work in until I'd proven myself on the floor and behind the bar for several weeks.
Zoning out, I didn't notice I was staring at her in the rudest manner possible until she smiled with amusement and gave me a little wave. Jordan laughed. "She doesn't bite, I promise."
I waved back, sheepishly, and she walked over, hand out. "Hi, I'm Erica. You must be Veda."
"Hi, Erica—I am indeed." I shook her hand firmly, noting how she was even more attractive up close and personal than she'd been from several yards away. Her face had just the right amount of roundness, her eyes were large and green, and the spattering of freckles on her skin just enhanced her beauty. She'd be a dream to dress-up as a fairy tale princess or cartoon character.
"We're so happy to have you!" She shot an impish glance at Jordan. "The last two bartenders were so useless."
He cou
ghed. "No comment."
"Trust me—they were such losers," she said in a mock whisper. I laughed.
"Fine, fine; they were. I'll be right back." Jordan went through the doors to the back, and as he disappeared Erica gave me a look that I could only call appraising.
"You have the most beautiful hair, you know that? I would kill if mine was so dark and thick."
I lifted an eyebrow at her and her false modesty, knowing enough natural redheads to call her bluff. What I could tell about Erica was that she was warm, friendly, and a little insecure, thus the need to fish for compliments for her most prominent, but not only, attractive trait. "Really? You'd turn in that amazing mane of bronzed goodness for this standard stuff?" I looked at a strand of my hair critically. "It's at least clean, I'll grant you that. But nicer than yours? No, I don't think so."
She looked taken aback at first but then giggled. "Alright, alright, you're right. I'd never give this up, but I do think your hair's lovely."
"I appreciate it." I grinned at her. "Are you from Maywen?"
"No, from Seattle, actually; moved here about a year ago with a boyfriend who went to Maywen University and wanted to relive his glory days. The man's gone but I stayed. It's a pretty cool place."
"Except for that whole kidnapped boys thing," I countered.
Her eyes widened and she looked away from me, just for a second. I knew then she was harboring secrets, just like my coworkers at Barnes. "Well, no place is perfect, right? We have very little violent crime!"
"That's good." I looked around to make sure no one was listening to us and lowered my voice. "So, Erica... can I ask you a question?"
"Of course!" She smiled slyly and leaned forward on the counter. "Yes, he's single and straight. No, we're not together and never have been; not my type. He's just as nice as he seems, and from what I can tell, likes brunettes."
I chuckled, not expecting that answer. "Oh, no, no, that's not what I was going to ask, although I have to admit that's pretty great information; thanks."
"Then what?"
"Were you out at the park near the river two nights ago, in a red dress with a hot guy in a Victorian costume?"
Her face flamed up and her eyes darted around. "You saw that?"
"I did, and I know this sounds weird, but I'm really curious about the outfit your guy was wearing."
"I—" Erica stopped for a moment, apparently at a loss for words, and her body language said she was on guard. "Adin's not my guy, not at all. I was just helping him with something. I'm not bonded to him, and we don't do more than that."
'Bonded' was an awfully old-fashioned word to use for 'dating', but okay. "Oh yeah, sorry. Don't mean to presume. But can I ask why he was dressed up so fancy? Was there some sort of costume society meeting or something?"
"I don't know." She stood up from the bar and fidgeted, obviously uncomfortable. "He didn't tell me."
"Huh, okay." Like everyone in Maywen, she didn't want to talk about it. Evasion must be in the town handbook, which no one had seen fit to provide me. "Sorry to pry. I used to make clothes and his just looked really impressive." I tried to soothe her with humor. "There's nothing wrong with some nighttime necking in the park. I've definitely done that and more myself, once or twice."
"Necking?" She looked confused and her green eyes searched my face. "Is that all we were doing?"
"Yes? That's all I saw. If you did more, I missed it, which was probably a good thing." Did she go down on him or something, or climb on his lap? There was something she didn't want me to know.
"Oh no, that was it; nothing more than that." Erica was apparently relieved. "I'm going to go make sure the seats in the lounge are clean; nice to meet you, Veda! I look forward to working together."
"Me too," I said, brows furrowed as she hurried off. What the hell was that?
The door to the back swung open and Jordan hurried out, holding his phone. "Did you hear the news?"
"No."
He held it out to me, and I saw the logo of the local news blog, and the headline "another kidnapping - Maywen University to enforce curfew."
"Oh shit," I said as I read.
"I know, right?" Jordan ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "Man, it's scary; these guys disappearing. The police keep claiming they think they're unconnected, but I sincerely doubt that. They're all pretty close in age, and all three disappeared at night."
"Goddamn it!" I had reached the picture of the kidnapped kid, and, of course, it was the boy I'd seen snatched off the street two nights before. His name was Shawn, and he looked happy and very young in the social media picture they were using. "What the hell is wrong with the cops here?" There was no note of my report, or that anyone had witnessed his capture.
"What's wrong?"
I handed his phone back to him, trying to fight down the rage I felt at Maywen's finest. "I actually saw this kid being kidnapped and I have tried to tell them multiple times that he was in danger, but they kept telling me it was just 'fraternity pranks'."
"Oh wow; that's horrible." Jordan sounded genuinely concerned. "And you're sure he's the guy?" He indicated the picture on the screen.
"One hundred percent. And despite that, I've been utterly ignored, and I haven't heard back from them on getting a statement. I think I'm going to stop by the station to give them a piece of mind and make them listen. If they don't, I'll go to the press."
"The Maywen Register?" He lifted an eyebrow. "I hate to break it to you, but they're famously in the pocket of the mayor and police; I don't think you'll get any help there."
"Jordan." I took a deep breath, stepped up to him, and grabbed his forearms. He started, and if I wasn't wrong, blushed a little. To have such a good-looking single guy that affected by my touch, despite my lack of makeup and polish, was very gratifying. "You've been in this town for two years or so, right?"
"Yes."
"Okay." I leaned in closer. "What the everflippin' lovin' hell is going on around this place?!" I hissed. "People say the strangest things, evade my questions, give me odd looks, and it's driving me absolutely nuts."
He blinked those big blue eyes at me and I braced myself for another bizarre answer that would leave me gnashing my teeth and pondering catching the first Greyhound bus out of this insane burg.
Instead, Jordan put his hands on mine and moved so our foreheads were almost touching. "God, Veda, I'm so glad I'm not the only one!" He looked relieved, his boyish Captain America face showing surprise and delight. I was used to good-looking dudes after living in LA since I was eighteen, but rarely were they also this genuine. "This place is so bizarre, and I can't talk to anyone from home about it because I'm not sure they'd believe me. It's subtle, and it's hard to describe, and yet there are all these flashes of things I can't explain at all."
"That's exactly it! Like people muttering to me about 'undead' and how 'safe' this town is when I have witnessed firsthand how completely unsafe it is. How can it be secure with cops like that?"
"There is an awfully low amount of crime."
"Is that because crime isn't happening," I countered, "or because no one's telling us about it?"
Jordan laughed. "That's a really good question. But yeah, it's such a relief to know you see it too and I haven't just been having an extended fever dream for the last two years. I love this place; it's beautiful and the stores are nice and the kids are rich and good tippers, but I can't shake the feeling there's more going on. Have you been to Agrimony River, just north of main campus?"
"No! I keep meaning to since that bridge is all famous and beautiful and all that, but haven't had the time."
"Yeah, well, don't do it at night." He leaned in again, and the low, blue lights of the bar caught the planes of his face. "I was taking a walk after work once, not ready to go to bed yet and just thinking, and I swear I saw figures underneath the water. Like, glowing shape, just moving around like massive fish. They had faces and everything, and it was absolutely terrifying."
"How many s
hots did you have that night?"
"One! Three hours before! I promise you, it wasn't the alcohol, Veda. And the worst part was," he shuddered, and unless he was an incredibly good actor, he seemed genuinely spooked, "I think they were reaching for me. I'm not easily scared, but that was horrific. When I tried to mention it to a couple of people, they shut down on me, and my roommate told me never to go to there after midnight again. What the hell does that mean?"
"Nothing good," I said. Our faces were very close, and I wondered if the second night of knowing someone was too soon to kiss them.
"Dudes, come on, it's not even nine o'clock yet; no necking."
We sprung apart and turned to see our manager, Jake, standing there, his eyebrows almost to his hairline. A near-forty dude-bro who came to the club in a baseball cap and preferred to be left alone all night to play video games in his office, he seemed like he'd be an insulting but easygoing overseer, as long as we didn't make his life hard in any way whatsoever.
"Sorry, boss. I was just telling her some of the secrets to getting good tips from the clientele, that's all." Jordan's smile was conciliatory. I got the sense he used that smile a lot, to great effect.
Jake squinted at us. "Yeah, sure. That's totally what it looked like. And if you want more tips," this was directed at me, "the answer's pretty simple: wear some damn makeup and open that there shirt a bit lower. You're real pretty, Veda, but you won't get next-level cash unless you work your natural assets. Know what I mean?"
"Yes." If I said anything more I'd probably get fired, and I couldn't afford that.
He nodded smugly. "Good. Let me know if anything happens. I'll be in my office."
I didn't let myself snarl until he'd disappeared in the back, and Jordan put a soothingly large hand on my shoulder. "Don't let him stress you—he's like that with everyone, and an equal opportunity sexual harasser. Last week he called me 'mancandy', which really pissed me off. You look amazing just the way you are, and there's nothing wrong with not wearing makeup."
Note to self: never call Jordan 'mancandy', at least within earshot.