1. Anna #2
I immediately recoil when it’s clear he’s going to make a grab for me, but the man stops, his hand mere inches from my arm, once a much kinder voice assures, “That won’t be necessary, Keith.”
I must look as terrified as I feel, because the second voice offers that assurance to me next, apologizing.
Behind the police officer is a far more affable face belonging to a man I would guess is around thirty.
He looks more like a youth pastor than the shop owner, but he’s shaking my hand, asking me if I’m Annaleigh.
“Anna,” I clarify, trying to plaster on a smile.
It must not be very convincing, because I’m still thoroughly freaked out.
It’s hard not to be when the police officer continues looming over me, so close I can smell the coffee on his breath.
He sounds like an angry bull with how he’s huffing, like he’s contemplating tackling me.
It seems like a fair assessment, seeing as how he’s built like an out-of-shape linebacker.
He only stands down when the shop owner, Devin, claps a hand on his shoulder, once again assuring him it’s okay.
Only then do I process that the badge on Keith’s chest isn’t a badge at all.
It’s a security guard emblem. Still, he’s looking at me like he wants to put me under arrest as he takes out a key to lock the door with a definitive click, and I’m far too relieved to be escorted into the back offices.
Though, my mood sours when Devin, oh so subtly, turns the frame on his desk away from me so that I can’t see the picture.
And the wedding band he had been wearing out on the showroom floor is conveniently gone, likely slipped away into his pants pocket.
Lovely.
I’m not sure what I want to do more: laugh or scoff? Because, really, what’s the end game? If he hires me, I’d obviously find out about his wife soon enough, and if he doesn’t, why would he think I’d sleep with the guy who doesn’t think I’m good enough for the job?
Still, I manage to keep my smile in place, because what other choice is there?
Several restaurants are looking to hire, but they also have significant foot traffic and social interactions to deal with, which is far from ideal.
Everywhere else either isn’t looking for help or I’m not qualified for the position.
My grandmother had worked at a jewelry shop from the time she was nineteen until the day she died, and I pretty much lived in the break room there when I wasn’t at school.
She taught me plenty, and everything else I didn’t know or couldn’t remember, I’ve spent the last week learning about it online.
Unfortunately, I feel more like I’m regurgitating passages from a textbook rather than exhibiting any proper knowledge, but Devin doesn’t seem to care.
After about a half hour, we’re no longer talking shop.
If anything, it sounds more like the “getting to know you” questions you’d ask on a first date.
I’m not sure how long we continue chatting, and I’m too afraid to look at the clock, in case I give off the obvious impression that I want to leave. Eventually, a woman around fifty enters, telling him that a Mr. Halifax “is on line one.”
“Perfect.” Devin claps his hands and rises from the desk, ushering me towards the door. “Why don’t you head back out to the showroom? And while I take this, you can acquaint yourself with the merchandise. When I’m done, we can do a dry run.”
I see it’s just before nine o’clock, close to opening time, and I’m grateful to find two sales associates working the floor when I head back out.
They introduce themselves, and Mia, a gorgeous woman with golden skin and waist-length dark hair, is kind enough to show me the ropes.
That doesn’t make my unease go away, however, because Keith is still eyeballing me from the front entrance, as if I’m going to try stealing something.
Of course, he isn’t regarding anybody else with suspicion.
Just me. It’s as if he can smell the “poor” on me.
Even more unsettling, his hand repeatedly goes to the utility belt at his hip.
Does he have a gun?
The security guard at the shop my grandmother worked for used to carry one, but I’ve been to other establishments that didn’t have the same protocol. I can only hope he’s armed with nothing more than pepper spray or a taser, because he seems to have an itchy trigger finger.
“ Ready to make a sale?”
This time, I can’t help but gasp as a hand comes down on my shoulder.
“Whoa.” Devin holds both his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s still smiling. When he sees who my eyes instinctively go back to, he looks more than a little exasperated, though thankfully not at me. “That’s my brother-in-law. Don’t mind him. He couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn.”
Devin says this conspiratorially, but I don’t think my potential new boss realizes what he’s admitted to, considering he told me he was an only child about twenty minutes ago.
The asshole can’t have an in-law of any kind if he doesn’t have siblings or he’s not married, but who am I to point this out?
Indeed, the slip-up goes entirely over his head, because he’s all too ready for a little role play, going over to the customer’s side of the counter as I take my place behind it. “What would you recommend if I was looking to buy something for a special someone I’ve just met?”
Seriously? Can you say gag ?
I know the correct response. I’m supposed to bat my eyelashes and ask, “How do you know she’s special if you just met?
” And, of course, he would have a pickup line at the ready, insinuating that the job would be mine if I was willing to go out on a date with him, and I would slowly grieve the loss of my dignity.
I doubt the other ladies here have to put up with his flirtations, given that Mia is wearing an impressive engagement ring and the other sales associate, Sarah, mentioned while Devin was still in his office that she and her girlfriend would be celebrating their two-year anniversary next Friday.
I want to tell him there’s a special kind of stick he can shove up his ass, but I’m distracted by Keith once again as I hear the jingle of keys, followed by the definitive click of the lock being unlatched.
The store is officially open…
So then, why is Keith leaving?
Seriously, the second the clock strikes nine, he’s out the door and not locking back up.
“I swear that’s the only thing he’s ever on time for.” Devin notices my confusion, watching Keith walk across the street and out of sight. “Morte’s makes specialty baked goods every day of the week, and on Thursdays, they serve these cannoli donuts.”
“As long as he brings back a Boston Cream for me, I’m not complaining,” Sarah chuckles on her way to the supply room.
I attempt to smile, but again, it must not be terribly convincing. “Isn’t it his job to be here while the store is open?” You know, instead of ditching your post the second you’re on the clock?
It’s not like I mind him leaving. If anything, I would prefer he stayed gone. It’s just bizarre.
But Devin waves it off. “He’ll be back in five minutes. And we rarely get a customer first thing in the morning. You shouldn’t expect to see anyone for at least another half hour, and things don’t start picking up until ten, so we have plenty of time.”
He waggles his eyebrows, the implication clear. He’s still got at least a half hour of me all to himself.
Great.
I recall his initial inquiry and move my way down the counter.
“Well, even if this lucky lady you’ve just met is so special, I would still recommend staying away from rings.
They typically signify something more significant, and I doubt most people would know the correct ring size of someone who is practically a stranger.
And though it doesn’t have as much room for error, sizing can also be an issue with bracelets.
You don’t want to get something that may be too tight or too loose. ”
“I hear that,” Mia says, holding up a dainty, bare wrist. “Most bracelets I’ve been gifted fall right off the second I lower my hand.”
“And did you notice if this special lady has pierced ears?” I ask Devin. “There are some pretty convincing clip-ons these days, so it can be hard to tell.”
I make a point to tap my own ear, despite the piercing in it being genuine.
Devin clears his throat awkwardly, apparently having anticipated flirtatious banter rather than me exhibiting some common sense. “What would you recommend then?”
I make my way over to the necklaces but never get to answer. The front door to the shop is damn near torn off its hinges as three masked figures dressed in head-to-toe black charge inside.
An all too familiar, cold, unending dread washes over me when I see one of the masked men isn’t wielding a hammer like the other two are. It’s a gun.
I’m so focused on the firearm—paralyzed by it—that I don’t even realize Devin has joined me behind the counter until the barrel of the gun is suddenly aimed at us .
“Don’t even fucking think about it, asshole.” The masked man points the gun at Devin, nodding it ever so slightly down, no doubt at the security holdup button positioned under the counter.
Everything about the man sends a cold wave of dread washing over me.
His voice is a little too calm, especially given his physicality.
He has the kind of restlessness I’ve only ever seen from someone on a cocaine bender.
He’s twitchy and agitated, only heightening that disquiet given that he’s the one waving around the gun.
Mia, Devin, and I all instantly throw up our hands and back away from the counter. We can’t help but shriek at the explosion of noise, certain he’s just opened fire, and it takes a second to realize it’s just the other two men smashing out the glass from the display cases.