Cary Ann
CARY ANN
H e’s here again, and he still hasn’t bought a damn thing. Not that a man like him looks like he needs anything in this toy store. I think he’s just coming to check me out. Or at least I thought he was. But he hasn’t said a damn word to me. Maybe I’m just vain or getting carried away with the thoughts I used to have of him.
Vinny’s a bad boy… or bad man, I should say.
I knew him growing up, and lusted after his I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude. He wore his leather jacket and rode that motorcycle everywhere. I wanted to be on the back of that bike. I wanted him to take me away. I shake off the thoughts and swallow down my childhood fantasies.
I was just a silly little girl. My parents would never have allowed it, and he was a few years older anyway. He wasn’t interested in a girl like me. Besides, I’m better for it now. I have my degree in social work, and I’ve already nailed down the job of my dreams. I’m going to be making the world a better place.
I’m not saying Vinny would’ve held me back, but I’m damn proud that I was able to focus on school and my career.
And to be wise enough to know what’s been going on around here.
Now Vinny’s back, and he’s tempting me. But judging by the puppy dog look on his face, I’m tempting him just as much.
My heart beats just a little faster, and my blood heats with lust. Pop! I blow out a bubble and hide my smile when I see him shake his head and smirk at me. My cheeks heat with a blush as I lower my head out of shyness and ring up the remote control car for the mom that's checking out.
“But I want it!” her little boy screams from the seat in his cart, and his loud shriek brings me back to the present.
He’s a cute little guy in a snowman sweatshirt, jeans and little boots that look like they could take on a blizzard. But his high-pitched yells and him kicking the cart are driving me crazy. And giving me a headache.
“You want to just hand it to him, or do you want it in a bag?” I ask the mom. I feel bad that she’s got two kids out here this late at night. That’s gotta be a handful and even worse since they’re obviously tired. She looks worn the fuck out. Her hair’s pulled back into a ponytail and the little infant in her arms is trying to yank on her earring, which is a miniature Christmas ornament. I wince. That looks like it hurts.
The woman leans her head down so her baby isn't tugging on the earring, seething through her clenched teeth; the pain is evident on her face as she pries the little fingers off of the dangling jewelry. The little girl squeals with delight in her mama’s arms and the woman gives the baby a small smile, but switches her to the other hip.
I don’t know what good that’s gonna do, since the little girl just focuses on that side's earring now.
“No thanks, can you bag it please?” she answers with a forced smile and leans forward to talk to the boy in the cart. “You have to wait, little man.” Good for her for at least holding it together.
The boy comically crosses his arms across his chest with a pout, and I have to stifle my laughter as I ring her up.
Once she’s done, the store’s basically empty. And it’s only a few minutes before close. Thank God. I’m spent. I’m ready to get out of here and grateful that so many people are shopping online. I yawn and cover my mouth, then look back to where Vinny was standing. He’s gone, and the sight of the empty aisle makes a frown touch my lips. I don't know why, but I just want him to say hi. To just acknowledge my presence. He never did growing up, but I never talked to him either. I didn’t have the courage back then. Now though… I need to suck it up and let him know I’m interested. I can do that. I should’ve already.
He’s been in here three times this week, and he’s never bought a damn thing. The knowledge makes my stomach twist in knots.
He’s up to no good. I hate that I think that. That’s what everyone said when he was growing up. They pretend like they don’t know why he ended up doing shady things when they never even gave him a chance at anything else. From what I know, he’s a good man now. He’s got his life together. And I hate that I think anything negative about him at all. But why the hell does he keep coming in here?
I hated the way the parents and teachers all talked about him when we were younger, yet I find myself thinking he’s gotta be up to something.
Or maybe I’m just projecting my own actions onto his behavior. My blood cools at the thought, but I can’t focus on that right now.
I smile as I ring up the last two customers in the entire place. At least there aren’t any more kids in here yelling. I’ve taken so much Advil the past week that I should really consider buying stock in them.
I’m leaving soon though; this job isn’t forever. I just need to stay until Christmas. I have to. I need to be here and make sure everything goes the way it’s supposed to on Christmas Eve.
With the store finally empty, I go through the daily closing checklist and take a peek down one aisle. It’s a fucking disaster.
Cindy’s crouched down, picking up dolls off the floor and shoving them back into place on the shelf. “I bet it was that little brat,” she says under her breath when she sees me. I have to press my lips together and hide my grin. She’s had a really hard day and given the fact that she only stayed on later because the manager ducked out early, I can see why she’s pissed.
“I can take these if you wanna line up aisle three?” I ask her. I know she prefers the larger toys. They’re mostly in boxes and easier to straighten out.
She sighs and looks up at me, shoving her blonde hair out of her face. “It doesn’t matter really. I’m just tired and ready to go home.” She looks fucking exhausted.
“Go ahead,” I say with a shrug, “I got this.” I don’t mind taking a little more work anyway. Besides, it’ll give me a chance to get things ready for Christmas Eve. The thought makes my skin prickle with nerves.
“You are a saint, Cary.” She rises slowly and stretches out before giving me an unexpected hug.
“Thank you,” she says and then doesn’t look back as she heads out the front doors to the parking lot. For this town, nine o’clock is late for any place to be open. But for the holiday season it’s worth it to be open another three hours on Sunday. At least that’s what Morose thinks, but he’s a liar, a thief, and an asshole. Judging by the lack of business, you can add dumbass to that list.
I have to straighten two more rows, all the while wondering if I’m going to be able to go through with my plan, and then I turn out the lights and lock the doors. I’ve been sick over this. I can’t stand it, and I want to make things right.
But I’m struggling with what I need to do. I’m not a criminal. And what I’m planning on doing is a crime. I run my hand over my face, feeling torn and exhausted as I walk to the parking lot. It’s late, and the street lights are dim. My heels click on the pavement, and my keys rattle in my hand. I look at the ground as I carefully watch my step, avoiding the potholes in the parking lot that Jimmy Morose hasn't bothered to get fixed yet. The only sounds I hear are my heels, and I think I’m alone, but when I lift my head, I stop in my tracks.
Vinny.
He’s leaning against my car, his motorcycle parked behind him.