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One
Anna
* * *
The man who’s going to get me killed is standing at the end of the aisle of Frank’s Discount Store, choosing a bottle of bourbon.
He’s talking into a cellphone when I spot him, using his free hand to pick up a bottle from the shelf next to him.
I’ve no idea how dangerous he is, of course. Not the first time I see him. All I notice is how handsome he looks.
Tall, very tall. Dark brown hair, close cropped. Broad shoulders. Well built. Plenty of muscles inside that charcoal gray suit. Crisp white shirt holding in his pecs. Black tie.
He stands out and not just because of his chiseled jaw and sharp suit. It’s the eyes. They fall on me and they’re so intense, it’s like I’m naked. I can’t hide anything from that gaze.
Lucky for me, he turns away. I can breathe again. He selects a bottle and then he walks toward me. Those burning eyes fix me in a stare so strong it turns my knees weak.
I take in his firm jaw, high cheekbones, and those eyes that are still searing holes into my face. I’m no longer just weak at the knees. I’m now melting into the floor. Where once there was a woman, there’s now only liquid and steam.
He seems amused by my reaction, examining me with a hint of a smile at the corner of his lips. For a moment, the world freezes. There’s just the two of us looking at each other.
An announcement comes over the speaker system, echoing loudly around the store, shattering the moment. “Anna White to the manager’s office.”
I dump my pricing gun back in its holster and then scurry into the back. I’m grateful to be away from that stare. Who looks at strangers like that? Serial killers. That’s who. Serial killers and darkly romantic leads in the movies.
This isn’t a movie. This is real life. I don’t want to be near a man who looks at me like that. My body might react, but my head is more sensible. I know bad news when I see it.
Or so I think.
I get to the office to find the door open. Frank is sitting behind the manager’s desk, looking out at me with this weird grin on his face.
He’s got yesterday’s shirt on. The stains are unidentifiable. I can’t help comparing the blotches and marks to the crisp white dress shirt I just saw on the mystery man. Frank isn’t looking at me intensely. He’s looking at me with lust in his eyes, and it’s making me feel ill.
“You want to keep your job?” he asks, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.
“Ideally. It helps me pay for food.”
“Shut the door.”
I do as he says. I spin back around and he’s got a typed out sheet of paper in front of him. “Want to tell me why you stole that vodka?” he asks, tapping the sheet.
“What vodka?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Anna. Marie saw you take three bottles last night. Two the night before.”
“She did, did she?”
“Listen.” His grin broadens. “Maybe we can come to some sort of arrangement.” He touches his crotch, opening his mouth while making the universal sound of someone gagging on cock. “You get me?”
I feign ignorance, hoping I can embarrass him out of this car crash of a conversation. “No, sorry, I’m not sure what you’re talking about. Could you explain better?”
“You want me to fire you?” he asks, the smile gone. He picks up his coffee mug and spits a wad of chewing gum into it. “Or do you want to keep your job and we all put this whole sorry mess behind us? Keep this place squeaky clean, I do. That includes my employees. I can make sure your sheet stays clean, so to speak. If you clean me.” He raises his eyebrows. “Get it? Clean my downstairs and we’ll forget this happened.”
He’s sitting there, surrounded by years of filth, acting like I should champ at the bit to chomp down on him.
“You’ve watched too much porn,” I tell him.
“Come on. We all know you put it about, Anna.”
