Page 24 of Veiled in Brick

“You can put the pedestal away, Lee, I don’t wanna stand on it,” I grumbled.

“It’s not a fucking pedestal, Zoey.”

“Okay, whatever, doesn’t matter,” I interrupted him. I didn’t need to argue with him about how he thought I had sunshine and rainbows coming out of my ass. We had done that far enough in the past, after all. “Whether he’s good enough for me or not is kind of irrelevant anyway.” Liam questioned me wordlessly with a pinched brow, and I answered, “It’s not like we’re together or anything, it’s…casual.”

“Oh, please,” Liam scoffed.

“It is,” I stressed. “Casual. It’s casual.”

I wondered if I said the word casual enough, it would begin to lose all meaning.

Liam threw me an expression that screamed, ‘You’re so wrong right now,’ before saying, “Casual, sure.”

He tilted his beer bottle all the way back and finished it with a large gulp. I replicated his actions, finishing my own, and he grabbed it from me when I was done. Liam stood, and I watched as he traipsed his way back to the kitchen, tossing our empties in the trash and grabbing another of each of our drinks. He returned quickly and extended mine out for me. I mumbled out a thank you as I reached for it, but Liam didn’t let go. He held a far-away gaze, appearing as if he wanted to say something gravely serious as our eyes connected, but he seemed to think better of it, shaking his blonde head quickly as if to clear it. He released his grip on the bottle and slouched back down on the couch next to me, grabbing the remote as he sat.

“Lee?”

“Hmm?”

“Looked like you wanted to say something?”

“Oh,” he moved his head from left to right once again, “nah, just lost my train of thought.” He ran on right into his next sentence, not allowing me to question him any further. “Alright, what kind of horror shit do you want to watch this time?”

I slumped back into the comfort of the couch, taking a long sip of my drink before suggesting the series we had most recently been binging. He clicked the buttons on the remote to select the show, and we both assumed our usual positions. I scooted down, resting my head against a throw pillow behind me, and stretched my legs out onto the cushion between us. Liam kicked his feet up onto the coffee table once more.

“Ready?” he asked, his thumb hovering over the play button.

I answered with a smile and a nod, and the start of our usual routine put me at ease.

Chapter 5

Work is work.

I liked my job. I was good at my job. That being said, working retail at a boutique that didn’t employ anyone else under the age of 35 could get…trying. I would have looked for work elsewhere, but they paid well enough and I got good insurance. Plus, I didn’t even have to use a car to get there—the store was only about a four-block walk down the street.

The stroll on this particular afternoon was deliriously nice. The small cold snap that had occurred earlier in the week had lifted quickly, and the sun warmed my shoulders as I walked. Cobblestones in the road, similar to the walk to Henry’s, made my footsteps sound as if I were wearing hollow clogs, no matter the choice of footwear for the day. I felt myself smile as I listened to the noise and lifted my chin toward the sky to enjoy the sunshine on my face.

The storefront came into view far sooner than I would have cared for it to. Its appearance was what had drawn me to my workplace from the beginning. A short, light yellow cloth flag hanging on a post outside of the store read in curly, black cursive print: Zest: New Age Boutique. A small wrought iron table with two chairs sat outside of the front entrance. The door itself was an old, heavy wood that I had to put all my weight into in order to open it. It was shaped in an arch with elaborate moldings surrounding it; windows on either side displayed mannequins that were wearing clothing that was far too young of a style for anyone else that worked there. The familiar sound of bell chimes as I opened the door tickled my eardrum, followed by the clack of my heel onto the tile floor.

“Welcome to Ze—oh, hey Miss Zoey,” a familiar voice called to me from behind the counter.

“Morning—er, afternoon, Brenda,” I called back.

She stood behind the register, waving at me happily.

I smiled at her as I walked past the register and through the door behind her into the room that any customer would just refer to as the back. The questions would always be:

Do you have this in the back in another color?

Is there a larger size in the back?

What about anything new—you got that in the back?

There was never anything in the back.

The back was an area situated in the middle of the store that housed a single-stall bathroom in the back right corner. Our kitchen—or what you could call a kitchen—was to the left. There was a small fridge, the grey countertops that surrounded it held a stainless steel sink, and a microwave was plugged in atop the surface. A circular wooden table took up the majority of the space of the room with yellow chairs that matched the store’s signature color. What was most definitely not in the back, much to our customers’ dismay, was extra clothing.

I placed my purse—a little blue and white striped clutch that had a long, slim strap to hang across my shoulder—on the counter to stow it away for the day, and Brenda wandered through the door behind me.

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