Charlie watches me for a minute and then disinfects thecounters I’ve cleared up.
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve missed this?” she asks, nudging me out of the way with hip bumps.
“I have,” I admit to myself as much as her. “It’s only been a couple of days, but I’m already lost at sea. There was almost too much to do most days, and it was overwhelming but, I’ve gone from everything to nothing in a blink.”
“But you’re not accounting for all the new shit pulling you from stern to aft.”
“True.” But thinking about that, even just recalling what happened with Trainor this morning seems like a bad idea. “I’ve got to keep pushing forward. I can’t overload myself with things I can’t change. If I stop to think —”
“You might capsize? Run aground? Spring a leak?” She scrutinises me. Her words are a tease, but only so she can dig at the truth without confronting it directly. She’s trying to help, and she’s right. If I stop, I’ll fall apart. It’s probably why I fought a small war with Dax just to get back on my course.
I asked for the improbable, and he surpassed it with the impossible.I should think of a way to thank him.
“Jules?”
“Sorry. Is all the above a reasonable answer?”
“It’s an honest one,” Charlie praises. “Just remember to deal with things a little at a time, Jules. If you keep shoving it all into the periphery, it’ll hit you like a tsunami the instant you make a sharp turn.”
“Aye, Captain,” I retort, hefting the sacks of flour back into dry storage.
The storage room is like a mini freezer with its thick floor and walls. The door is like a bank safe—whether that is to stop thieves stealing the goods, or keep the Vale vermin out of the produce, I don’t know. It’s usually my job to keep it tidy, and already I can see signs that Charlie needs me here. She’s shoved the empty sacksback against the wall to deal with later rather than rolling them up and recycling them with Eskin Mill. It’s the only place in Harrison that still uses the old, natural woven sacks. They like the tradition of it all. Admittedly, it was my suggestion to hand them back each time we got a new delivery, and Charlie has a thing about teasing me and Gordy, the delivery driver. Is she saving these up for me?
I hear steps following and I spin to ask if she’s meddling again.
Except it’s not Charlie.
Ben shoves a large hand over my mouth and raises a finger to his lips. I obey without question. He quietly closes the heavy door without shutting it completely and scans the room fast. I’m not sure what he’s looking for, but a grim determination falls over his panicked expression as he eyes the empty sack in front of me.
“Take off the apron,” he whispers. I shuck it fast and hand it to him. He slips it over his own head. “Get down low. Tuck in, cover your mouth, and close your eyes.” He points to the back corner of the room. I’m not sure what his plan is, but when he pulls the empty sack out of my hands and shakes it, I get an inkling. He quickly rubs the loose flour that falls between his hands and smudges a little across his face. He mumbles an apology and then slips the sack over my head and pushes me a little lower until it covers my feet.
I hear him drag things around and am bumped twice as he presumably blocks me in with real sacks.
Noise swells from outside, like someone flipped a switch. I catch Charlie’s indignant shout, “You can’t go in there!” and then her sharp hiss of surprise.
“You said to put the flour away. Where else would I put it? Oh! Who are you?” Ben slips straight into role. No hesitation. His smooth, natural delivery suggests this isn’t the first time he’s tricked his way into or out of a situation.
“Are you the only one in here?” A bad-tempered, gritty voice demands.
“Do you see anyone else, mister? There’s barely enough room for all the flour this place uses, let alone me. Hey!”
A big sack of flour falls onto my side. A full one from the sheer weight pushing against me. I take the impact and go with it, settling into a new position as steadily and naturally as possible. Did the stranger throw it? Kick it? Whatever it was, the result seems to satisfy him as he grunts, “Clear!” to someone outside.
“Who’s in there?” another voice asks.
“Some kid.”
“He’s our new employee. Jules’s replacement,” Charlie snaps. “I told you goons before that she wasn’t here, and now you’ve seen for yourselves. Get out of my shop before I let my husband loose on you all.”
“The bigger they are…” the one still in the storeroom threatens. He’s in a shitty mood, and you can tell that he’s hoping for a fight in the slick way he’s talking. I’ve no doubt the only thing stopping Koko from cutting out his tongue is Charlie.
The other guy clearly knows better too.
“Don’t be stupid, Al. He’ll cut you up before you even raise your fist.”
Al grunts in a huff. “You’re going to let him think you’re scared? Let her threaten you like that?”
“We don’t mess with Koko. Boss’s orders. Just check the freezer and we can get out of their way.” Reason from one of Franz’s men is unexpected, but his fear—or is it respect?—for Koko is a complete surprise. Heavy footsteps retreat, but I know better than to move until it’s safe.
