Chapter 13
Star
The last thing I needed was to step in the grody remains of a half-eaten pepperoni pizza Hot Pocket on the way to my interview.
Gag me with a spoon!
With a huff, I stomped through the revolving doors of the Retail Haven Mall and booked it to the nearest restroom. I was already late because I’d forgotten how long it took to drive to this part of town, but no way in hell was I showing up smelling like extra cheese.
The job will be cheesy enough.
Retail Haven was the last place I ever thought I’d end up. I’d never even shopped here before, since my entire life revolved around the Lone Pine Mall until only a few short months ago. Not to mention, no one from my side of town would want to be seen here.
But desperate times and all that…
After scraping melted preservatives off my Doc Martens, I took a moment to check my outfit in the mirror above the sink.
The underbust corset I wore was giving my lace camisole-covered boobs a healthy lift, while my favorite vintage cameo hung from my neck on a strand of jet beads.
Brand new fishnets were peeking out from beneath my mid-length petticoat, and I gave the bone-white crinoline a shake to fluff it up after my drive.
My gaze lifted to my teased black hair, artfully swept forward to cover one eye completely—but not because I wanted to hide.
The star of the show was my maximalist makeup, with geometrically drawn eyebrows and enough eyeliner to blot out the moon.
My shadow was thick, my cat eye extreme.
I looked like Siouxsie Sioux had a love child with comic book Batman.
I look deadly.
This wasn’t at all how I used to dress, or how I did my makeup before… Well, before all the bullshit. Now that I was starting over from nothing, I could experiment—play with a style that felt more authentic to who I really was.
When life gives you lemons, make a vodka lemonade.
Leaning forward, I pressed my lips to the mirror with a sloppy smack. Then I admired the blood-red evidence left on the cracked glass before spinning on my heel and confidently stalking away from the scene of the crime.
On the way to my interview, I passed a knock-off version of Chuck E. Cheese—complete with creepy animatronics—followed by what looked like a pawn shop trying to pass itself off as RadioShack.
RadiosHack.
Good one.
I had to literally hold my breath as I passed the food court—what sort of ghouls would even eat there?—internally vowing to find a different entrance to park near if I managed to land this gig.
Maybe there’s a secret employee area in the back?
Or six feet underground?
Two minutes later, I breezed into Sizzling Discourse, fully intending to tell Max, the manager, I’d had car trouble, hoping the little white lie would stop him from counting my lateness against me.
I’m just a helpless girl, you know?
Syke!
“Brittany?” A man’s voice from the shadows almost had me knocking over a nearby rack of fashionable bondage jewelry.
“It’s… Star, actually,” I automatically corrected him as I hastily rehung a wine-colored leather collar inlaid with glittering black gemstones. “Brittany doesn’t really fit who I am, so…”
My words trailed off as I turned to face the guy who’d seemingly materialized out of thin air.
He was strikingly good-looking, with olive-toned skin, deep-set brown eyes, and a distracting curve to his lips that made it look like he was about to laugh at a really dirty joke.
I was guessing he was either Filipino or Vietnamese—not that it was any of my business, but it was a nice change to see a little diversity at a mall for once.
Lone Pine is definitely pretty white.
And that’s completely by design.
Dude did have some pretty bitchin’ tribal tats running up his arms that I would be asking about at some point, but none of that mattered in the face of what he was wearing.
A Hawaiian shirt.
With a straw fedora perched on his pretty little head.
“I think I might be in the wrong place…” I mumbled, although a quick glance around confirmed that yes, I was surrounded by the affordable goth clothing and accessories this store was known for.
Maybe he’s the one in the wrong place…
“You’re here about the sales position, correct?” Hawaiian Tropic asked, weirdly formal.
His lively gaze was drinking me in, but not in a lecherous way. It actually reminded me of how I salivated over a brand new eyeshadow palette.
“I am…” I cautiously replied, beyond confused by this turn of events.
“Are you Max? The manager?” When he nodded enthusiastically, I handed him the employment application mall management had given me when I stopped by the office last week during a last-ditch drive around town.
“Oh! Um, well… Sorry I’m late, man. My Honda decided to shit the bed on the way here and—”
“You’re hired,” he interrupted, staring at me for another long, intense moment before sticking out his hand. “And yes, I’m Max… the owner, actually—one of the owners. Welcome to the Sizzling Discourse team, Star!”
Well, that was easy.
“Cool.” I shook his hand and casually flipped my hair, as if I wasn’t fist pumping on the inside. “Soooo… when do you want me to start? I know this store is only open after sunset as part of your whole vampire schtick, but my schedule is pretty open.”
Wide open, actually.
Max was still eyeing me like I was that magical, rainbow-haired Pegasus from the new She-Ra cartoon. “Does now work for you? I could show you around the store. You know… get you up close and personal with the merchandise.”
There was definitely a flirtiness to Max’s statement this time, but when I snuck a glance at him, his smile was wide and genuine. I couldn’t help smiling back, realizing my new boss was pretty much an eager puppy who just wanted to play.
How he ended up moonlighting in the goth scene is beyond me.
“Yeah, I could hang for a bit before I have to motor,” I replied, peering around the chaotic store. “I’ve actually never shopped at Sizzling Discourse before, but didn’t think you carried midlife crisis Hawaiian gear…”
Let’s see how you handle my brand of humor.
Max barked a laugh before tilting his fedora at a saucy angle. “You sound like Damon! He despises how I dress nowadays. Although the midlife part might be accurate...”
Before I could point out that dude looked like he was twenty-five tops—or ask who Damon was—a voice that sent a shiver down my spine echoed among the racks.
“What the fuck is this?!”
I spun to find a more appropriately-dressed guy striding toward us with a snarl twisting his annoyingly pouty lips. Confused, I looked over my shoulder, trying to figure out what was getting him so twisted.
“Damon, meet our new employee.” Max sighed so heavily, I had to assume he’d about run out of sighs when it came to the other man.
Hey, wait a minute…
Am I the “what” he’s pissed off about?
“Hi… I’m Star.” I swallowed my sass and politely extended a hand for Angry Man to shake.
I was attempting to play nice, while trying—and failing—to not get stuck on how his gorgeously flowing pitch-black hair perfectly framed his ivory skin, high cheekbones, and flashing amber eyes.
His attractiveness is just rude.
Damon grunted in disgust, pointedly ignoring my hand. Instead, he snatched my application from Max so he could glare at the crumpled piece of paper as if it mortally offended him in some way.
Probably because my name is on it…
“What makes you think you should work at Sizzling Discourse, Brittany?” Damon was back to sneering at me like I’d pissed in his Cheerios. “You’re nothing but a Valley Girl playing goth dress up.”
“She prefers to go by Star.” Max took a step closer to me—adorably ready and willing to come to my defense—but I could handle myself.
Especially against a wannabe trying to call me one.
Matching Damon’s energy, I let my gaze drag down his body with maximum judgment. It was a struggle, since he looked bitchin’, but he was right about one thing. I was from the Lone Pine neighborhood, and being judgy was in my “Valley Girl” blood.
“I think I’m a better option than either of you,” I sniffed before briefly glancing at Max. “No offense.”
“None taken,” he replied before gesturing at Damon. “Proceed.”
He wants me to put my coworker in his place?
Interesting…
My new boss didn’t have to tell me twice. I turned my attention back to the sourpuss in the room and let loose. “What is with this Old West duster jacket, Damon? And are those knockoff Docs? Is your employee discount not enough for you to dress like the real deal?”
Burn!
I knew I might be going too far, but I wasn’t interested in working alongside someone with an entire tree stuck up his butt. Damon needed to get with the program and learn that no one got to talk to me like I was nothing.
Not anymore.
Ye Olde West Goth glanced down at himself before giving my ensemble an equally judgmental look. “The boots are Vivienne Westwood and the jacket is vintage.” His gaze flickered to Max. “Extremely vintage.”
“Neither of us wears much of our own merchandise,” Max hastily cut in with an apologetic smile my way. “We see what’s hot in the London scene and then seek out cheaply made alternatives—so the kids can afford it.”
That’s… kind of cool.
“Well, I’m happy to be the hot, young thing, modeling the merch.” I flicked my hair out of my eyes, my gaze drifting to the display of collars again. “As long as we’re not going to have any problems with me working here.”
That last bit was aimed at Mr. Grumpypants, who apparently wasn’t done voicing his very grumpy opinion.
“Actually, you working here will be a problem,” he growled, crossing his arms and annoying me further with how his muscles bulged beneath his offensive duster. “And since we don’t need any help—”
“We need her,” Max barked in an unexpectedly aggressive tone. “We need… the help, Damon. With All Hallows’… Halloween in a couple of weeks, and then the holidays…”
Despite being slightly shorter than Damon, it was clear Max could match—and surpass—his intimidating energy.
Something unspoken passed between them during their standoff, immediately capturing my attention.
In fact, the tension was so thick, it practically crackled in the air as the temperature rose by at least a few degrees.
Hot.
For the briefest moment, Damon looked apologetic—although the regret was definitely meant for Max’s benefit, not mine. Then he remembered what a giant douche he was and scowled in my direction before stomping away again.
This should be fun.
“Sorry if I caused drama with you and your…” I trailed off—casually gesturing while totally, shamelessly fishing for information.
Because I did not imagine that vibe just now.
“My co-owner,” Max smoothly replied, flashing me a charming grin once again. “And don’t listen to him. We’ve needed a third… around the store for a while now, but Damon’s set in his ways.” His lips twitched as a devilish light filled his eyes. “He’s a pain in the ass, to be frank.”
Double burn.
“Yeah… sharing a business is rough,” I muttered, not at all wanting to go there with my personal history. “Okay, do you wanna show me all the merchandise I’ll be making look good for you guys?”
Max’s eyes darkened, but he quickly buried the heat beneath a cheeky smile. “With pleasure! And please don’t let Damon scare you off, Star. I think you’re just the person we both need.”