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Fishtown was a nice enough neighborhood. Working class, a little rough around the edges, lots of bars and restaurants. Gentrifying, but slowly. Construction on almost every corner and cars packed along every curb. It was the sort of place I’d consider living if my shop wasn’t halfway across the city.
Or used to be at least. Now it was just a burnt-out husk.
Sander stood behind a half inch of bullet proof glass and smiled. He was an older white guy with brown hair and a pudgy face. His shirt was illfitting and he looked like he was sweating through the underarms.
“Ey, yo Owain,” he said. “Haven’t seen you around in a while. What the fuck’s up? You bring me a new employee?”
“Good to see you Sander.” Owain smiled and nodded at me. “This is Leigh. We spoke about her.”
“Yeah, yeah, we did. Alright, how’s it going, Leigh?”
“Good to meet you.”
“Charmed, I bet.” He laughed, a raspy rumble. “So you’re setting up shop in the back, right? Door’s next to the drinks freezer. Do me a favor, when you’re in there, restock the milk when it runs low, okay?”
“She’s not actually working here,” Owain said. “So don’t make her do shit she doesn’t want to do.”
“I’d be happy to help out. I have nothing else to do.”
Sander gestured at me with both hands. “This fuckin’ girl. She’s already my favorite employee.”
“You don’t have employees.” Owain pointed around them, noting the empty store.
Sander rolled his eyes. “You get what I’m saying, yeah?”
“I get that Leigh can do whatever the hell she wants around here, and if you think about bullying her into stocking shelves or something stupid, you’d better think twice.”
“You got it, boss. I wouldn’t dream of it.” He winked at me and I couldn’t help but smile.
He seemed like every other south Philly guy I’d ever met: loud, charming, obnoxious, but generally harmless. I knew guys like him, grew up with guys like him, and I have a feeling we’d get along fine so long as he kept his hands to himself.
Based on the way he looked at Owain, I had a feeling that wouldn’t be an issue.
“Get yourself settled,” Owain said. “I’ll be back in a little while, alright?”
“Sure. So I’m just sitting around doing nothing?”
“That’s the plan. Maybe go for a walk around the block if you want.”
“That’s dangerous, right?”
“My guys are watching.” He lingered close and put a hand on my wrist. I thought he might pull me up against him. The way his eyes locked on mine, I knew he wanted to strip me down right there and kiss every inch of my skin.
Instead, his fingers fell away and he left without a word. I stood there with a tremble in my legs, berating myself mentally for giving in to his bullshit. He was a pretty face, that was it, nothing more. I couldn’t go all stupid over him because he’s attractive and makes my stomach do weird flips every time he’s around.
I was a captive. I had to keep that in mind. I didn’t work for him, even if he said he’d pay me.
Sander came out from behind the counter and shoved his hand toward me. “Nice to meet you.”
I shook it and gave him my best disarming smile. I didn’t want him to treat me with kid gloves “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Come on this way. I’ll show you around.” He gestured as he walked through the aisles and I followed. “This here is your average bodega. Where you from, by the way?”
“Grew up in Levittown, but I’ve been in the city for a while.”
“Yeah? How you like being a city girl?”
“It’s fine, I guess. Same as anything else.”
He snorted. “Nah, that’s not true. City people grow a rind on them, you know what I mean?”
I laughed a little bit trying to envision Sander with his big stomach and hairy arms covered in a thick tough rind layer.
“I think I hear you.”
“We’re hardy folk. Harder than the suburb people. Anyway, this is the bodega. Groceries and shit. Your pretty standard stuff.’
“You get a lot of customers?”
“Sure, yeah, you’d be surprise. We do okay, actually. Owain doesn’t need to inject cash into this place and I get a nice salary, so it’s not too bad.”
He approached a black door next to the drink refrigerator and pushed it open. A short hall led past a tiny bathroom and into an open stock room. It looked a lot like the back at my shop: desk in a corner, shelves with extra stock. The only difference was the low ratty tartan couch and the old TV set up across from it.
“Tis is your paradise,” Sander said.
“Looks great.”
“TV gets most channels. I sprang for the good shit.”
“I appreciate that.”
He leaned up against the desk. “Help yourself to whatever you want out there, no charge. I’ll take it out of Owain’s account.”
