AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, I’m not most people,” I tell him. “Where are these?”
“Not the kind of neighborhood a girl like you should go alone.”
“Well then, you’ll have to take me for a tour,” I suggest.
The bell above the door chimes and in walks Cash. His hair is a little windblown and he has a guitar case strapped to his back. He pulls it off and looks between Gabriel and me curiously.
I straighten up and wave at him, feeling like I’ve been caught doing something I shouldn’t - even though I haven’t. “You’re back.” I have a guilty tone, and I don’t know where it came from, so I clear my throat and pat down my shirt that still has a bit of dust from my earlier cleaning spree.
“When I showed you where the panic button was, this is who you should have used it on,” he says teasingly, looking from me to Gabriel.
“That’s cold, man,” Gabriel laughs.
Cash leans over me to set the guitar case behind the counter. He smells like gasoline, and I can’t help but inhale. It’s an odd smell to like, but it reminds me of being in the shed watching my grandpa fix his old tractor.
“Everything go okay while I was gone?” he asks me.
“Yeah, it was pretty quiet,” I say, and then add, “aside from the stripper party.”
Gabriel looks between us, concerned.
“She’s kidding,” he tells Gabriel. “You’re kidding, right?” He looks at me, a little panicked.
8
COLLECTIBLES
CASH
What I Like About You by The Romantics
“Don’t touch that!” I yell at the kid with sticky fingers as he tries to grab the guitar off the wall. He startles and moves his hands away.
Sasha narrows her eyes at me disapprovingly and I shrug, “What?”
“You could say it a little nicer,” she chastises me as she walks over to the kid and pulls the guitar off the wall for him.
Sasha’s been working here for a little over two weeks now, and even though she still has an attitude, at least I’ve been able to leave the store and get other things done.
I watch as she hands this kid, who is probably five years old, the guitar while his mother watches. He hands his mom the melting ice cream cone. My insides are screaming to run over there with a wet wipe, but at this point, all I can do is turn around and pretend to organize some collectible figurines.
All I have to do is smell peppermint to know Sasha is standing behind me. “You have a problem,” she says.
I turn around holding the David Lee Roth collectible figurine in my hand. “The Gene Simmons figurine can’t be anywhere near the David Lee Roth one.” I explain, holding up the offending package between us.
She tilts her head and looks at me like I’m crazy. “Because they don’t like each other,” I finish.
“I’m talking about that little kid.” She points to the woman and her son who are leaving the store. “He could have been the next Eddie Van Halen, but you scared the shit out of him so now we’ll never know.”
“I doubt that.” I roll my eyes and set the boxes back on the shelf.
“Wait, they don’t like each other?” she asks as she points to the shelf.
“Obviously not,” I scoff.
“But they’re just dolls.” Sasha gives me an annoyed look.
“Collectible figurines,” I correct, and grab a clean rag from under the counter and walk over to the guitar on the wall.
