“Here you go.” Another staff member, Jenni by her nametag, brushes past me and places a paper cup of water in front of Zirconia. “Oh, my God, Zira, are you okay? You look dreadful!”
Zira doesn’t speak. She’s transfixed, staring at me with a mix of shock and horror flittering across her rather beautiful face. With her mouth open and her eyes wide, she looks seconds away from passing out, so I clear my throat to direct attention away from her.
“I was just explaining to her that I was here last week, during the robbery.”
Jenni glances up at me and her eyes widen. “Oh, my God, I remember you! You were looking for a watch for someone and then… wait, the robbers took you from the store, didn’t they?” She throws a glance back at Zira. “Zira, you should have seen it. He was so brave protecting Mrs. Weatherly, and then he left without a fuss. I can’t believe they didn’t hurt you!” Jenni’s hand lands on my arm, and her eyes widen as she feels the tight muscle underneath. “I suppose they weren’t much of a hassle for a man like you.”
Just like that, the charm is on. Jenni cocks her hip as she tucks hair behind her ear and smiles warmly up at me.
“They were all talk,” I assure her. “They let me go not long after they escaped, and I’m sure it won’t be long until they’re apprehended.”
“I hope so,” Jenni agrees. “Scum like that deserve everything that’s coming to them.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Zira’s mouth snapping closed.
“Anyway, I’m sure we can secure you a discount after what happened. Are you still in the market for a watch?” Jenni asks.
I let my attention wander back to Zira. “Actually, Zira here was just telling me about a new collection that arrived this morning. Something about emeralds and white leather?”
“Zira!” Jenni scolds quickly. “Those haven’t launched yet. What on earth are you doing telling customers about them!” Her hand remains on my arm.
“I have insider information,” I reply warmly. “I’m friends with the owner.”
“Oh?” Jenni all but purrs. “Well, I’d be happy to show you?—”
“Actually,” I cut in gently, “I’d like Zira to show me, please.”
There’s a beat of hesitation and Jenni’s smile wavers at the corner, then she nods quickly and removes her hand from my arm. “Zira, what are you waiting for?”
“Right.” The word squeezes out of Zira like air escaping a balloon and she finally moves away from the counter. “We… we keep the private p-pieces in the back, so if you’d follow me.”
As Zira leads the way through a white door at the back, I catch a snippet of hushed conversation between Jenni and another employee as she complains that Zira’s acting like she’s lost her marbles.
I hardly blame her. Given the nature of her shock, she probably thought I was dead.
Keeping my distance, I follow Zira’s wobbling steps down a long hallway to a cluster of doors at the end. She leads me into thefarthest one and holds the door open for me, her gaze at the ground. Every second that passes, I expect her to run and make a break for it, but for some reason, she goes through the motions of closing the door and walking toward the wall of lockboxes situated at the far end of the room. I follow and as soon as she’s close enough, I have her by the neck and I lightly shove her up against the wall.
She stumbles on her heel and hits the wall with a yelp, then spins to face me so quickly that her hair whips against my cheek like a thousand tiny lashes. As she presses against the wall, I lean fully into her and brace one arm on the wall above her to cage her in. The other presses to the wall near her shoulder, and our gazes lock as a look of sheer horror flashes across her face.
“A–Are you here to kill me?” she gasps out, trembling so violently that the looser metal doors behind her click slightly.
“Why would I do that?” I ask, my voice as level and as calm as it always is.
Her forehead glistens with sweat and her eyes dart back and forth between each of mine as if she expects to see something more horrifying within each pupil. A bead of sweat rolls from the sheer scarf around her neck and down to her cleavage, straining against the buttons of her blouse. From this angle, the bruise she’s hiding with the scarf is visible near the seam. I breathe in, and soft floral soap and sweat flood my nose.
Every detail tells me something about her. She’s scared of me and likely of whoever gave her that bruise. There’s a dullness to her hair and eyes and a slight gauntness around her cheekbones that’s barely hidden under hastily applied makeup. Given how beautiful she was in her ID photo, it’s clear she’s barely holding herself together.
“I don’t know,” she gasps hoarsely. “I don’t even know who you are.”
“Let’s not lie to one another.” I glance down her body and glimpse her hands clasping together while her fingers twist themselves into knots. “I want to know what you’re playing at.”
“Huh?” Her voice gives out completely, leaving her with nothing but a whisper.
“You shot me. Twice.”
Her eyes dart down to my chest where she scans every inch of my body, looking for hints of where she shot me and where I’m hurt. When she finds none, she glances back up at me with a whimper.
“Then you threw me in the river. Now you’re back at work, acting as if nothing happened. Mingling with the co-workers you terrorized and placing yourself right back into the store you robbed. I’m not a psychologist, but even I can tell that’s a really fucked up thing to do, wouldn’t you say?”
