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I still can’t help but think that it would be so much easier if the two of us wanted each other. Too bad that is never gonna happen.
“You again?” Lyla asks when she steps out of her house in a cute summer dress. I just showed up a few minutes ago to trade shifts with Trey and the prospects who handle the night shift while I sleep.
“Yep. Me again,” I reply. “Miss me?”
Her green eyes narrow at me from behind her glasses she must have finally recovered. “You’re slightly less of a pain in the ass than Trey. And one is better than the three amigos. Grandma has been cooking nonstop to keep that crew fed.”
Smiling proudly, I tell her, “Oh, this one is definitely better than two prospects and Trey.”
“Your ego is obviously bigger…”
“It’s not the only thing that’s bigger,” I add with a smirk.
“Ugh. Whatever. Can I go now?”
“Sure. Where arewegoing?”
“Iam going shopping.”
“Oh, fun,” I mutter sarcastically.
“You don’t have to come.”
“Yes, I do,” I assure her before the two of us climb into her car.
Being in retail stores remind me of two things from my childhood – not being able to afford shit and stealing it.
The stealing usually wasn’t even my idea. My mom would sit me in a buggy, then shove earrings, bracelets, and watches into my pockets until they were full, then add a baseball cap to my head.
When the store’s alarm at the front door would inevitably go off, she would chastise me for putting on the hat, give it to the store associate, then walk out with me and the buggy full of stolen property.
She sold the pieces for a few dollars each on the street. That cash she earned would buy us a cheap meal and her a handful of pills.
While I make a decent living working for the Devil Hounds, I’m still not able to just walk into a store and buy whatever I want. All my life, I’ve been scraping to get by. That’ll never change.
I’m so lost in those shitty memories that by the time I snap out of it, Lyla has her hands full of shopping bags.
“Want me to carry some of those bags?” I offer.
“No. And I really don’t need you following me around store to store,” she remarks.
“Too bad. President’s orders,” I tell her while chomping my cool mint gum loudly. “How much longer is this going to take?”
“It takes as long as it takes,” Lyla replies. “You can leave if you want.”
“No, I can’t,” I mutter quietly to myself. “What are you shopping for next?” I ask to gauge how much longer this will take because I’m starving.
“I need a power suit, one that makes me look smart and capable of assisting the CEO of one of the largest animal rescue charities in the country.”
“Animal rescue? Like cats and dogs?”
“Yes. Any pet you can think of that people have and surrender, but mostly cats and dogs.”
“Then you should find a suit or a shirt with like little puppies or kitties on it,” I suggest.
“Thanks, I’ll try to keep that in mind,” she replies with a puff of laughter.
“Have you told your dad about the interview?”
