Page 50 of All Fall Down

Chapter Seventeen

Pawnography’snewest sales associate waves to me from behind the counter. There’s something comforting about knowing that she’s here to keep the store in check. The shop is swarming with customers, which is its new normal following the media storm that is my life Suddenly, my impulse to retrieve the Venetian mask I bought ages ago feels foolish. Tugging the tie from my ponytail I let my hair fall like a curtain over my face. If this keeps up, I’m going to have to invest in a wardrobe of over-sized sunglasses and wide-brimmed hats. I ninja through the crowd, careful not to make eye contact with any of the patrons. Most of their attention is on the items under the glass and the girl behind the counter.

I blend in, so no one notices me, but I stop in my tracks when a woman bustles up to Josie at the counter. She’s dressed in a Las Vegas t-shirt that screams tourist. Judging from her mom jeans, she’s a Midwesterner. In my experience Kansans love a good souvenir shirt and a pair of high-waters. I suspect that if she turns around, there will be a fanny pack buckled around her ample waistline.

“Where’s the girl?” she demands.

Josie blinks innocently, but I can tell by how forcefully she stares the woman down that she knows exactly what she’s asking. “I’m sorry?”

“The girl they keep talking about on television and the world-wide web.” The customer twirls her hand impatiently as if a nondescript gesticulation will help clarify her point.

“She doesn’t work her.” Josie smiles as she delivers the bad news, and I want to hug her.

“The television said she works her.” The woman pulls out her phone and I groan inwardly. “Look at this article. That’s this shop.”

“Yes, it is,” Josie confirms.

“So, where is she?”

“I’m sorry, but if you would like to make a purchase—”

“I came all the way from Nebraska…”

Nebraska. Kansas. What’s the difference? I lose interest as the woman continues her tirade. After a few minutes a weary looking man retrieves her with an apologetic look to Josie.

“The internet said she works here,” the woman reminds him angrily.

“I know.”

“She needs to repent for her sins. I came here…”

I’m saved from hearing exactly why she came here as the couple exit the shop without their prize.

“Didn’t want to give them an autograph?” Josie whispers conspiratorially. She tugs at the hem of her green tank top self-consciously and I do my best not to look. “That was conspicuous.”

“What?” I hold up my hands.

“The baby bump check you just did. I’m not showing. Mom just shrunk this shirt,” Josie explains.

“I wasn’t looking.” But I guess I can’t lie to her.

“I have an appointment.” Josie keeps her voice low so that no one can overhear. “It can’t get here fast enough.”

On the outside with her stylish, dark curls, and fuchsia lipstick, Josie plays the part of a grown woman, but I can see the fear she’d trying to hide. I can’t blame her. If it were me in her shoes, I’d be freaking out. I hesitate, uncertain how she’ll feel about my next question. “Can I go with you?”

“If you want.” She shrugs but I don’t miss how her lower lip trembles. That’s a definite yes.

“So, are you coming to my party?” I decide a change of topic is in order. I haven’t had the chance to give her the lowdown on my plan to catch Nathaniel West’s murderer at my birthday bash, so I distract her with the info now.

“Yes, but explain to me why we’re having a party there? Isn’t that the last place you would want to celebrate your birthday?”

“Can’t a girl throw a rager for her eighteenth birthday? I can legally vote. It’s time to celebrate.” I slide along the glass case, looking for what I came in for. When I spot the mask, I tap the spot. “I’m going to need that.”

Josie takes it from the case and raises an eyebrow. “What are you up to?”

It’s a fair point, but not one I can explain without a lot more time and possibly some visual aids. “If you promise to come, I promise you’ll find out.”

“You’re being very mysterious.” She wraps it in some paper and hands me the bag.