by Allie York
“Fancy meeting you here.” I pull the remaining fliers against my chest and greet Officer Collins, hoping I sound flirtatious and not lame. The bruise on his face is slowly turning from red to blue. Awesome, way to go me.
“Well, you sent me here.” He lifts a brow at me. I definitely came across as lame. “Turns out the cameras here point at the lot across the street as well, so we may have some very grainy footage from that angle. Good call.”
So, maybe I’m no flirt, but at least I’m helpful. “Glad to help.” I decide to get out of the situation before I say something else stupid. I learned a long time ago that hot guys and I don’t mix, so it’s best to not overstay my welcome. If I hang around too long, I end up hitting them with doors or worse. “Thanks, Leo. Good to see you again.” I give both officers a smile and hope it doesn't seem like I’m only talking to only one of them. Even though I am. Leo gestures me out with an impatient wave of his hand and he gets a discreet middle finger before I walk out. While Leo is Rae’s brother, he might as well be the big brother I never wanted. I cross the street again and stop at each store in the strip. Most get a flier to hang up, but Waggin’ Tails gets my condolences. I offer to help, but the owner, Mr. Mabry, declines and gives me a quick hug.
“I can’t believe this happened here. I’m glad you are all okay.” I pull away and keep my hands on his shoulders. His employees, Jack and Marci, have been sweeping since I came in. The robber made one hell of a mess. Broken glass, overturned displays, and dog treats all over the store.
“I just feel violated.” Mr. Mabry sighs and pats my arms gently.
“I can imagine. What did they take?” I ask, looking around. Nothing seems to be missing, but I’m not here enough to notice missing items.
“The petty cash box, the whole safe from the back, and our laptop. Probably some poor kid looking for a quick buck for some drugs.” Mr. Mabry shakes his head and reaches for his broom.
“If you need anything, let me know.” I get to the broom before he can and hand it to him.
“I’m glad it was my shop and not yours. You could have been hurt. Thanks for coming by Noralee.” Mr. Mabry starts sweeping before I make it to the door, and I give him one more wave as the boarded door swings closed.
Before I can walk back next door, my phone buzzes in my back pocket. It buzzes four more times before I can get to it which means either we have an emergency, or all of our social media is blowing up about the speed dating. One look at my phone tells me it’s about the speed-dating event. We aren’t in a huge city, but our town of fifty thousand people has a lot of single nerds by the number of shares and comments I’m seeing. We are also right outside a huge city that has more box stores and people seem to prefer our mom and pop shops. Whether it’s locals or out-of-towners, our little speed dating night is blowing up social media.
Now I just need to come up with a waiver and get-to-know-you questionnaire so people can get a quick feel for their date. I walk back in the front door to see Greer on one computer, talking to a client about a pre-order, and Tuesday on the other. A few men are loitering around the manga display and a woman is at the jewelry case looking at our nerd inspired pieces. We have everything from Hermione’s time turner, to the one ring to rule them all, to Spiderman earrings. Greer quickly wraps up ordering comics and goes to help the woman by the jewelry. While I love that Greer works with me, I wish she was out there pursuing her passion. She’s an amazing artist but is so afraid to take the plunge. I don’t know what’s stopping her.
I don’t bother checking my notifications once I see that Tuesday has every social media platform available open on the computer and she’s rapidly typing out cute, catchy phrases about our speed dating night. I watch the tabs at the top of the screen. Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and YouTube are all open as well as Craigslist. I’m assuming the YouTube pulled up is Rae’s because the comic shop doesn’t have a YouTube channel. Each tab has the number of notifications in parenthesis next to the site opened. Facebook (28), Twitter (32), Instagram (39), and YouTube (257). It’s safe to assume that Rae’s notifications are hers, not ours, but the rest is all us. I guess speed dating at a comic shop is a more popular idea than I thought it would be. I figured we’d have a few people turn out and add to those numbers each run, but it could be even bigger than I imagined.
“You are being productive, but not at your actual job.” I squeeze in next to Tuesday and bump her hip. “What’s up?”
“I saw the cops go in across the street after you. Leo freak out?” Tuesday clicks the Facebook tab and starts liking comments and replying to questions.
“He did freak out a little, then he put on his big boy panties. I guess he has cameras pointing this way so I’m sure they will be asking him for footage. Here, let me do that and you go start a pot of coffee so people will smell it.” A group of early twenty somethings come in and go straight for Second Breakfast. Tuesday looks up from the screen and blinks rapidly to clear her vision. When she gets on a marketing project, she goes black-hole deep.
“I’ll go feed the Hobbitses.” Tuesday hops off the stool. “Keep the same perky vibe going, you can get a little dreary.” She gives me a pointed look.
“I am not dreary,” I throw back as she leaves me at the computer. I do what she says and try to be as perky as possible. She’s right, I can be a little dreary, but it’s not like I try to be. So, I keep up Tuesday’s perky energy for the next four hours. I ring customers up, pull pre-orders, and help other customers all while running back to the computer and updating our social media. It takes until around lunch for the phone to start ringing.
“Thanks for calling Words for Nerds, this is Noralee, how can I help you?” I tuck the phone against my shoulder and shift on the stool to ring up a woman with a stack of graphic novels.
“Speed dating gonna have plenty of women? I went to one last year at a bar, it was a sausage fest.” A nasally voice hits my ear and I cringe.
“Our feedback has been positive from both men and women.” This is what I was afraid of from the beginning. It’s no secret that women in our world are not exactly plentiful, which is only partly true. There are tons of us, but we are either made to feel unwelcome, or we are harassed to the point that we just leave the community.
“So, there will be women at the speed dating?” The man sounds skeptical.
“Yes, from what I can tell, there will be women at speed dating.” I may be lying, but who knows.
“I need a woman who will let me play video games,” the man continues, “If she wants to play with me, even better. I’m sick of not being happy because women think adults don’t game.” He hesitates, “So, I guess I’ll be there. Maybe it’ll be worth the five bucks.”
“Okay great! We will see you there.” I wait to let him hang up first, then press the button on the phone. It’s actually a pretty common complaint. Women tend to not like men with hobbies outside of worshiping them. I have never understood this mindset, but I’m a pretty avid gamer myself. Having a friend like Rae means you have to let her kick your ass at the game of her choice whenever she wants.
“That’s the fifth call like that.” Greer bumps me out of the way to look up the release of a request on the computer.
“I hope it’s not the case. Surely there are other women like us out there that will come, right?” I’m honestly concerned at this point. What would we even do if no women show up?
“Every retweet has been a woman.” Tuesday types frantically on the computer then spins the monitor to show me. Sure enough, every single one was retweeted by a woman.
“That makes me feel a little better. Maybe we aren’t the only amazing women on the planet.” I pick up my trusty Swiffer and decide to be productive instead of sitting and worrying. It’ll work out or it won’t, and we will move on to something else.
“Amazing and single.” Tuesday gives me finger guns as she moves away.
“And shit like that is exactly why we’re single.” I shake the feather duster at her
and start at the other end of the store. With D & D tonight, speed dating in two nights, and a burglar on the loose, I’m a little stressed. The door opens, letting in a short blast of cold air and my stress level hits a new high. A certain super-hot cop is in my shop again and I am done for the day. I tuck behind a rack of comics and watch him swagger over to the counter like a man on a mission. I get a nice back view when he gets to the counter and spin to stop staring when Greer points him in my general direction. I quickly start dusting. I have no idea why him walking in again has my hands sweaty, but it does. I can feel him coming up behind me and I know he’s watching me, but I keep dusting.
“Miss Reynolds.” I didn’t realize how deep his voice was before, but I was also half freaked out by a robbery that I may have witnessed, and half freaked out by how his hotness affected me. I peek my head around the rack. “Miss Reynolds, I need to ask you another question.”
“Sure.” I try to stand casually but end up leaning too hard against the display and it shifts. Not a lot, just enough for me to feel like I’m going to fall backwards and die. I flail my arms, let out a squeal, and stumble trying to catch myself. My fingers catch one of the shelves and an entire row of Justice League hits the floor, my foot lands on one and it slides. My foot goes out, my ass heads to the floor and Officer Collins grabs me around the waist before I actually hit the ground. “Fuck” is the only word I can manage when I dare to open my eyes.
“Dumbass!” Rae just happens to be walking to Second Breakfast and I’m in her direct line of sight. I know she’s walking in our direction, but I’m too busy looking at the man in front of me who’s trying not to laugh. His blue eyes crinkle at the edges and I almost don’t notice the bruise on his face anymore.
“You okay?” He makes no move to let me go, so I get my feet under me and shove off of his bicep to stand up. I may give it a quick squeeze and hope he doesn’t notice.
“Fine. You startled me I guess.” I adjust my shirt that’s ridden up to my chest, nearly showing my bra, and I realize his hand is still on my bare hip. Someone kill me now.
“She’s just awkward!” Rae yells again and I flip her off.
“You had a question?” I try to disengage myself from his grip, but he waits until I’m completely on my feet to very slowly unwrap his hand from my waist, he holds his other hand out to make sure I don't spontaneously fall over. It’s a valid concern apparently.
Officer Collins bends to pick up the comics strewn about and I stoop to help him. “I have several questions now.” He smirks.
“Can we start with the most pressing?” I stack a dozen comics in my hand, including the damaged one I slipped on.
“Do you fall like that often, or was that just for me?” I look up at him, crouched on the floor and realize he may be flirting with me. Then he chuckles and it’s clear he’s making fun of me.
“I plead the fifth. Next question.” I take the comics from him and stand to stack them back on the now crooked rack.
“At any point yesterday did you take notice of the cars outside?” He hands me the last few comics from the floor and slips back into cop mode.
“I went out to my car yesterday morning, but not really. So many cars come and go that I don’t pay much attention. Why?” I organize the comics while I talk. My cheeks are still on fire from embarrassment so I can’t stand to look at him too long.
“We watched the video your friend Mr. Stewart provided, and it looks like a dark blue Mustang was here three times yesterday. We think it’s the car from last night.” He looks over at the front of Words for Nerds. It’s pretty clear why we don’t notice the cars outside. The entire glass front of the shop is covered in comic art. Everything from posters, to life-sized cutouts, to fan art. The only blank space is the front door, which is why I noticed the car since it parked directly in front of my door.
“I never noticed any particular car, but we stay pretty busy.” As I say it, a crowd of about nine teenage girls come in and goes straight for the counter and Greer. “I need to go help her.”
Officer Collins nods. “I’ll leave you to it. If you think of anything else, even something small, don’t hesitate to call. My cell number is on there.” I nod and take a step toward the counter.
“And try not to fall on your way to the counter.” He calls at my back and I hear Rae snort giggle. I throw a glare at him over my shoulder and he smirks. At the front counter, I watch him leave and realize that I’ll probably never see him again, unless something gives them a clue about the break-in next door. I get to see him shoot me a look over his shoulder before he disappears though, which is nice. Odds of seeing him again are slim considering it sounds like a few of shitty people looking for a quick buck broke in next door. I’m just glad it isn’t us cleaning up a mess.
4
Noralee
Dungeons and Dragons night always goes pretty much as planned. There’s a cover charge that pays for food and everyone is welcome to buy a drink from Second Breakfast. Between thirty and fifty people show up around seven, most in costume. We pull a pretty impressive D & D crowd, if I do say so myself. Our oldest regular player is sixty-three. Mr. Hallbert is always in robes and a wizard hat when he comes to play with his two granddaughters. They’re thirteen and fourteen and one is always dressed as a cat, the other is a goth chick, way too cool to dress up. Our youngest player to date is seven-year-old Kayden who comes once a week and plays with his mom. We have tables set up for different levels and a video playing on repeat as a ‘beginner’s guide’ but everyone pretty much plays together and if a new player needs help, there are plenty of seasoned D & D enthusiasts to help them. It’s three hours of good time and ends with us having to kick people out at ten so we can get the store closed. Rae records most nights and takes on the role of Dungeon Master in the game with the most experienced players. I rarely play because I’m too busy, but I love Dungeons and Dragons almost as much as I love my graphic novels.
With this D & D being two nights before the first big speed dating event, I’ve posted a huge flier with a sign-up sheet and the agreed upon questionnaire/waiver for speed dating. We learned the hard way that you need a waiver for literally everything. We once had a grown-ass man get mad that he didn't win a prize during a D & D match that didn’t even give out prizes. Our waivers include the agreement to be featured on Rae’s channels if she so chooses. No one has ever turned down the chance at fifteen minutes of fame on Rae Gun’s channel, but we ask anyway. By the end of the night we have a sheet and a half of sign-ups, and a whole stack of forms are gone.
Greer ushers the last of the players out and locks the door. “How many people was that?”
“Forty-eight.” Rae is already on her phone, headphones on and mic to her mouth. She blows a pink bubble and sucks it back in before it pops. “Good turn out and a lot of interest in dating. I had at least three men ask if I was participating.” Rae blows another bubble. “I had to break a few hearts.”
“Same.” Tuesday picks up the last Second Breakfast cup and tosses it in the trash, then starts on the dice and other odds and ends. “I finally started telling them that no employees were participating, but we were expecting a good turn out.”
“Any women on that list?” Greer flips through the pages and I mentally cross my fingers while she studies the list.
“A lot.” She waves the clipboard at me. “Not half, but most of the players are men, so it makes sense.”
“We need more.” I start to worry. A lot is good, but half is kind of essential. “How can we appeal more to the female demographic?” I toss a wadded napkin toward the trash can.
“Let me work on the social media and play it up a little for the ladies.” Tuesday sits at the computer and puts her talent to work. The woman is a social media guru.
Once Tuesday is satisfied with her posts, we shut off all the lights and I let Rae and the twins go home. We have a big day of comic books and pushing our speed dating nights ahead of us. I hold the door and watch them all go to their res
pective cars across the lot. Rae gets in her black Prius, Tuesday gets in her red cruiser, and Greer gets in her dark green pick up. They pull out of the lot one at a time. I notice a police car in the lot and give whoever is in there a thumbs up before closing my door, locking it, checking it with a hard push, and giving Katniss a salute before I get to the stairs.
I almost make it to my door before the banging comes. I drop my head and wait a bit for it to stop, hand on the stair railing. It happens again and I relent. It happens about once a month. A player forgets an inhaler, or glasses, or a wallet. Another knock and I trudge back down the stairs. I expect to see a familiar face pressed against the glass of our front door, but I don’t expect that face to belong to Officer Collins. I jog past the front desk and weave through a couple of racks, careful not to trip again, and unlock the door. I ease it open after he steps back so I don’t hit him in the face again. As soon as it opens, I wrap my arms around myself to keep warm.
“What’s wrong?” It’s the first thing that pops into my head. Why else would a cop show up at a business after hours?
“I just wanted to let you know that one of us will be sitting out here tonight,” he answers, scanning the shop.
“I saw the car, I assumed that’s what you were doing. But why? Did something else happen?” I understand wanting to catch a burglar but sitting outside a strip mall seems excessive when there are bigger crimes.
“Someone reported seeing the car in question so we’re being cautious. You should head home.” He turns and watches a car pull into the lot, turn around, and pull out.
“I am home.” I hug myself tighter when the wind picks up and blows through the shop. January is cold and he’s holding my door open. “I live upstairs. Can you either come in or out? I’m going to freeze.” He looks over my clothes then down at his coat covering a long sleeve shirt. He even has on boots that look much warmer than my Converse sneakers.