How Not To

by Devin Sawyer

  He laughs as if this was the last thing on his mind as if I am merely a funny and naïve young girl.

  “I don’t want your money.”

  Oh my God, he wants my body. He’s totally about to pin me to a wall and take advantage of me. I’ve not prepared for anything like this. My parents kept saying I should enroll in one of those taekwondo classes or something, but I was always convinced I’d never need to know how to karate chop in real life. I try to pull from my memory the scenes I can of Karate Kid, basically anything with Jackie Chan, like Rush Hour, and even that one scene from Napoleon Dynamite where Kip signs up for Rex-Kwon-Do. I try to wade through the memories of different movies but can’t get past the part where you bow to your Sensei.

  “What the fuck? Bow to who?” he asks.

  … fuck me, did I say that out loud?

  I stumble backward and grab my purse to begin the rummage that I pray will produce my pepper spray. When I finally feel the small tube in my hand, I pull it out and face the nozzle at my soon-to-be attacker.

  “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’ll bow to your Sensei.” He bends slightly in an awkward bow. I’m still kind of a distracted mess “I just want your help. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

  That’s what all attackers say, isn’t it? I leave the nozzle up still directed at him. I take a second to evaluate him. He’s taller than me, and strong and muscular all over, his shoulders are broad and I can see his biceps are tight under his T-shirt. He’s a threat, but I might be faster than him. I’m small and nimble.

  “You’re the accountant girl, aren’t you? You’re good with numbers and shit?”

  “What’s it to you, Sherlock?”

  “I need your help. I saw you in your dad’s office the other day. My brother actually, he runs a business, and it’s shit right now. The numbers don’t make any sense to us, but I was hoping you might be willing to take a look. I don’t have much money, I can’t really pay you.”

  “Hasta la bye bye, then.” I turn toward my bike again. I feel less threatened, my guard is down, and my snark is ramped up by his ridiculous request.

  “Please, I can pay you back in other ways.”

  Surely this cat doesn’t think he’s going to pay me in sexual favors. I mean, he’s good-looking, really good-looking, but I’m a virgin. I don’t even know if I like sexual favors yet. Although, he probably wouldn’t be a bad guy to learn from, but his wrong side of the tracks look has me guessing he’s not going to be a gentle lover. I re-evaluate him really addressing his stature. He looks about my age, maybe a little older but I don’t recognize him. He has dark golden colored eyes, like the whiskey my dad drinks, and his hair is longer in messy curls around his face, but he has a very boyish grin that looks almost devilish and innocent at the same time.

  I turn again, to leave this time, when I hear him yell, “I have a car. I’ve noticed you take your bike every day. I assume you don’t have a car? I can get you one. It doesn’t run yet, but I’ll make sure it does. It’s nothing fancy, an old convertible Chrysler LeBaron. It’s yours if you help me out.”

  This stops me. A car of my own, and I wouldn’t lose any of my savings. I face him straight on again, eyeing him closely.

  “What color?” I inquire as if it matters.

  My engagement in the discussion brings a small smile to his face, but only one side pulls up.

  “Black, like your soul apparently.” He scoffs. “What do you say? You in or you out?”

  “Rule number eighty-two on how not to treat a lady. Don’t stalk down a stranger and ask for free work by scaring the daylights out of her. Not a solid plan.”

  “Wait, there are eighty-two rules on how not to treat a lady?” He’s puzzled.

  “There’s probably more you, nimrod, but I can’t keep up with them all with the boys in this town. It’s a deal, maybe. I want the car, and it better run. I’ll look over the numbers for you and if I think I can help you, then we make the deal official. The car needs to be finished before I complete the file, or I walk with all the numbers.”

  He nods his head. “Okay, deal. Am I going to be expected to remember these rules?” His smirk causes his stubbled face to scrunch to one side. I notice the dark hair causing a five o’clock shadow that makes his young boyish face look a little older.

  “Start a list. I have a feeling you’re going to need it.”

  He smiles back more whole-heartedly this time. If he thinks he’s charming, he’s wrong. He’s trouble. Even I can see that. He’s not fooling anyone. The silence grows awkward.

  “Uh, I can’t meet today,” I tell him, filling the void. “I can meet you tomorrow after I get off work. Six work for you?” I wrack my brain for where we can meet. I can’t bring him home or even into Dad’s office without him giving me a full interrogation as if he’s the county sheriff or something.

  “Uh, my house, I guess? I can pick you up here, around the corner when you get off. It’s a little too far to bike.” He awkwardly pulls his hands from his jean pockets and digs through a backpack he had slung over his shoulder and pulls out a piece of paper and a pencil. He jots something down and hands it to me. His hand grazes mine and his touch is soft despite the calluses I feel graze me. An address. I don’t recognize the street name, so I make a mental note to google it when I get home.

  “Yeah, no, stranger danger. There’s a coffee shop down the street. Let’s meet there, at least while I determine if there’s anything I can even do for you.”

  “Alright, Tomorrow at six then.”

  “Yeah, fine, I want to see the car. Bring all the paperwork, all the receipts, your budget and spending, everything.”

  He nods his head. “The car is at the shop, but I can take you to it this weekend.” That’s sufficient, I guess. It will give me time to get to know this guy, to figure out if I trust him or not.

  When I get home, I call Emily. I’m not sure if it’s to process an almost mugging or a new business venture. It will be the first time since school’s out that I’ve seen her.

  She arrived twenty minutes later, stomping through the house and crashing through my door.

  “Thank God you called. If I have to listen to one more stupid thing come out of Tara’s mouth, I’m going to throw her down a well and go all Hannibal Lector on her.” A smile spreads across her face. “I knew I missed you, but seriously she’s had Riley Stanza over every day this week and they’ve been kanoodling everywhere. By the pool, in the living room, in the kitchen. It’s disgusting, just last week she was with Deidrick Norton. I can’t keep up.”

  “Well my my, we have a real Jezebel on our hands. Would you like to stamp a large ‘A’ to her chest or should we take her straight to the stake?” I tease her.

  “This is not funny, A! I have guys from our class, a full two years ahead of hers and she’s all over them. It’s disgusting. I don’t even want to see half these guys at school much less in my home.”

  I laugh at her dramatics. “Why don’t you move into that apartment space thing above the garage then?”

  Her head ticks to the side as if she’s thinking.

  “That might work actually. It has a bathroom and I think we even have a mini fridge tucked away somewhere, but the last time I was in there, it looked like a hoarder’s wet dream. It would take forever to clean out.”

  “I’ll help. Ask your parents, the worst they can say is no.”

  “You da real MVP, A.”

  I roll my eyes at her and thank my lucky stars I don’t have any siblings like Tara to deal with.

  “Sooooo, I kind of picked up a side job today.”

  “Oh yeah? Which street corner can I find you at?”

  “Please, The Layton townspeople would have me jailed quicker than it would take me to put on a pair of fishnet pantyhose.”

  “I’m pretty sure you’d get taken in for questioning if you’re even trying to buy fishnet hose in this town. Fashion violation.”

  “Yeah, well I’m not too keen on the fashion police as it is,” I reply wit
h a gesture to my usual black jeans, graphic tee, and army green utility jacket.

  “Eh, it’s very…you. It works. Anyway, what side piece, I mean side job did you pick up?”

  Side piece probably isn’t too far off. He was hot, probably older, he looked older at least by a few years.

  “Uh, just some dude, that I thought was going to murder me, actually ended up wanting to hire me to help review some of the finances at his brother’s shop, so I agreed.”

  “Wait a minute, one minute you think he’s a murderer and the next you agree to work for him. Is this going to be some black market shit?”

  “NO.” I guffaw. “I mean, after he quit following me, he seemed fairly normal.”

  “Well did you know him or recognize him?”

  “No, I don’t think he was from around here.” I describe him, hoping he might sound more familiar to Emily. I tell her about the plan to meet tomorrow and the concern on her face is clear. Shit, maybe I was second guessing this. I could always just not show up tomorrow, but he clearly knew where I worked.

  “I’ll be sitting at the coffee shop when you arrive. I’ll act as back up if needed, just pick an area that’s easily visible and make a gesture if you need to get out. I’ll come over.”

  I nod my head, grateful for her support.

  “Thanks, Em.”

  “No thanks needed, aiding in the catching of Layton’s first ax murderer is going to be my pleasure. Imagine it now, with my face on the cover of the news next to a Jason copycat killer.”

  “Jason’s the one that wears the hockey mask… I think I have enough common sense to spot him a mile away and refuse any business offers, it’s the Freddy Krueger’s of the world I’m worried about.”

  “Touché. Either way, I’m your girl.”

  Chapter 4

  Torren

  I arrive at the coffee shop on the same street of her dad’s office and take a window seat after ordering a coffee that I don’t really need this late in the day. I took off a few minutes early today to rush home and shower to change into some clothes that aren’t grease covered and raced back to the coffee shop. I can see the door to the office building from my seat and I watch impatiently. It’s only a few minutes past six and I haven’t seen her leave yet. I guess there could be a back door she could slip out of, but her bike is still out front. I forage through a box of receipts and ledgers that Gavin kept, feeling like that was probably a good place to start.

  I tap my foot nervously and look around the place, wondering if I possibly missed her when I came in. I scan the crowd, looking closely at each table and the people at it and don’t find her face anywhere. It would be hard to miss that perky blonde hatred directed at me, I would have felt that when I walked in. It doesn’t even matter that she doesn’t care for me as long as she’s willing to help me and not back out of the deal. The LeBaron is all hers if she fulfills her part of the deal. I glance around again and wipe the sweat beading around my temples, it’s hot in the Texas heat and even the air-conditioned coffee shop feels sweltering. My nerves subside when I look back up to see the petite little blonde I’ve been waiting for heading this direction. I watch her as she walks by the glass window I’m perched next to and I flick my wrist in the friendliest wave I can muster. She looks less than enthused. It’s cool though, I’ll win her over. She walks in and comes to place her messenger bag in the seat across from me.

  “Hey, thanks for coming.”

  “Yeah,” she says curtly. “I’m going to get a drink. I’ll be back.” I watch as she gets in the line for the barista and I gaze around the shop feeling immediately at ease that she showed. I watch her as she orders her drink and makes her way back to me.

  “Alright, show me what needs to be done and I’ll let you know if it’s something I can even do.”

  “Well aren’t you a little ray of sunshine?”

  “If rays of sunshine are dark, twisted and pissy, then yes, yes I am a ray of sunshine.”

  I smile at her sarcasm even though she doesn’t mean to be funny. “Well dark, twisty and pissy, can we abbreviate that? I brought the last box of financial records. My brother owns the shop and has been steadily losing money. According to him, he should be coming out on top, only minimally though, so every cent counts. He’s only owned the business for a little over a year, so I’m not entirely convinced he knows what he’s doing. Now that I was helping, I was hoping you could spell things out for me and maybe in the future, I would be of some use to him.”

  “To answer your question, No, you can not abbreviate that, you can call me Ari, short for Arianne.” Aha, a name finally.

  “I’m willing to take a look at what he’s got but no promises that I’ll find a fix, and even if I don’t… I still get the car. Deal?”

  “Deal,” I agree and reach my hand out to the middle of the table. She scrutinizes it as if checking my hands for a flesh-eating bacteria, I see her eyes shoot to the corner of the shop and I stifle a laugh as she then returns her gaze to me and puts her own hand in mine as we shake on our deal.

  “Don’t go being a little bitch and backing out on me. I need that car to work and run and I want to see it this weekend.” She thumbs the threads of a black choker tied tightly around her neck. A small silver “A” hangs from it.

  “Done. Not a problem. I promise I can fix it, that’s not a problem, but can you tell your friend over behind us to play it cool? She’s scaring the crap out of me.”

  She looks stunned for a minute, her eyes racing over to the dark-haired girl in the corner and I huff out a laugh seeing I’ve got her off guard.

  “What? You didn’t honestly think you guys were being sneaky, did you? She’s been staring at me since I walked into the place. Before you got here, I wasn’t sure if I had a secret admirer or ax murderer following me and from the second you walked in her focus changed to you. Unless of course she’s here to pick up a threesome and we are her targets of desire, in which case I think we should oblige her.”

  “You’re disgusting,” she quips and quickly pulls one of the files from the box, refusing to meet my eyes.

  “She can come over here, if she wants, or if that would make you feel more comfortable.”

  An audible sigh escapes her and she reaches for her phone in her bag and types out a quick text. “Alright.” She starts digging through the box. “How are these organized?”

  “What do you mean? They’re organized by box. He takes the receipts and he sticks them in a box until it’s full and he starts a new one.”

  “You’re shitting me. Please tell me that’s a joke.”

  “Uh, no? I mean this is the most recent box so for the most part they should be the most recent receipts.”

  “I guess I’ll start with basic organization then…”

  I nod my head at her. “I’m Torren, by the way. We didn’t really meet yesterday.” I attempt to introduce myself formally to Ari, but about that time mine and Ari’s secret lover joins the table, or Ari’s friend, whatever.

  “Hi, Torren. I’m Emily. Where ya from?”

  She man-handles me by grabbing my hand and shaking it a little too firmly.

  “Glennville, but I moved here last year.”

  “Oh, so you’re new. Welcome.” A knowing look enters her eyes as if I just told her I’m from trailer trash USA. Glennville really isn’t all that bad, most people are just trying to get by, but there’s a slew of criminals in the area that give it a bad rep.

  Emily proceeds to grill me, asking me question after question. I tell her I graduated last year, I work with my brother, I’m not a felon, I’m currently single, I still visit Glennville, I played football, baseball, and track before graduating, Gavin’s my only sibling, basically anything she asks. I’m pretty sure she’s asked just about everything and all I have left to give her is my social security number and a copy of my driver’s license - which I totally would because she scares the crap out of me - before the two of them run off together with any money I have and I’ll be sitting
here even more penniless than before. Ari is distracted by reviewing the paperwork and is only minimally listening to Emily slaughter me.

  “And your parents, what do they do?” Because that matters in Layton, what your parents do is the reflection of your own future.

  “Well, my mom ran off when I was six…” Ari’s eyebrows tick up at this, as if it surprises her and I know she’s listening more acutely than I had realized. I become a bit insecure in this moment. I don’t exactly put myself out there to look like a well-rounded frat boy so my own surprise mirrors hers.

  “…and my dad works over at the Anderson plant. It’s why we moved to be closer last year, he didn’t want to deal with the traffic.” Sudden silence sweeps through our table and I eye both the girls attempting to figure out the cause. Neither of them makes eye contact, Ari keeps her eyes on the papers, and Emily suddenly seems very interested in her macchiato.

  “What? Is the questioning over?”

  Ari looks over the top of the file in her hand and sighs. “Emily is Emily Anderson, daughter of the Anderson franchise.”

  “But you don’t, I mean, I’ve seen Mr. Anderson, you don’t look anything like…” Shit. How do I say this?

  “I’m adopted. Their eldest. I was born in the Philippines, but they adopted me before I was even a year old.”

  I nod my head with understanding. “Okay, well no big deal.” They both nod their heads and seem to let relief wash over them. It doesn’t bother me that my dad isn’t a head honcho somewhere, he seems to respect Mr. Anderson and he likes his job, so all is well in the world.

  I chat comfortably with Emily and we let Ari focus on the paperwork in front of her. Emily talks about their school and some of the other students, which she expresses a large dislike for, and it sounds just as hoity-toity coming from her as I imagined it. Emily and Ari are both beautiful girls, but Emily makes it sound like they are a part of the outliers at their school, which I have a hard time believing. She tells me that Ari and her don’t really hang out with too many others due to their introverted preference, but since meeting Emily she hasn’t stopped talking for more than two minutes. I seriously doubt that she’s introverted and am willing to bet it has more to do with the fact that rich pricks aren’t always the easiest people to get to know. I watch Ari carefully as she studies the paperwork, rarely looking up or contributing to our conversation unless she has something sassy or sarcastic to add. After an hour and a half, she finally starts picking up all the papers and organizing them back into the box I brought them in.