Page 25 of Veiled in Brick

“What up?”

She greeted me in a tone that sounded like it came straight from the nineties, and I smirked at its oh-so-Brenda-like quality.

“Not much,” I told her. “How are ya, Bee?”

She shrugged. “Good. Do anything fun on your day off?”

Her short, brown bob tipped to the side as she, as per usual, inquired about my life.

“Same old,” I replied, keeping my excursions with James from days ago purposefully to myself. “Hung out with Liam, did some laundry—you know.”

“Hngh.” Brenda emitted a sound that was reminiscent of envy, her hazel eyes staring off into the distance, and she said, “Yeah, I know. He comin’ around any time again soon?”

I joked, “What, Bee, you miss seeing his face?”

“I miss seeing his ass,” she stated brazenly, and I chuckled as she added, “It’s tight.”

“Uh huh, right,” I voiced back. “Well, he was just here a few days ago…the last day you and I were scheduled together, actually. You missed him.”

“I did?”

“Mhm—you left early to pick up your kids?” I reminded her with an upward inflection.

“Damn those children!” she mockingly called to the ceiling. “What was he wearing?”

I laughed, replying, “I don’t remember, Bee—you can use your imagination.”

“Already am,” she returned quickly.

I was going to ask her a question that erred on the side of small talk regarding her children, but the bell chimed from the front door. Instead, I just told her, “I got it,” and made my way out to the floor to begin my shift.

Time passed quickly. I was working for several hours, as I typically did, but the sheer amount of people and the velocity at which they scampered through the store was staggering, and before I knew it, I was ringing up my last customer.

I smiled sweetly at her as she joked, “Oh, there’s no tag on this? Must be free! Ha!”

While my brain sneered, ‘Your joke isn’t original. I hear it fifty times a day. No, you are not getting this sixty-dollar sweater for free, that would come out of my check,’ my mouth replied in a bubbly tone, “Let me check on that price for you!”

I was ecstatic that I had her out the door in the next five minutes. My fingers itched to close shop, and I rushed through the procedures as quickly as I could. Brenda had left long ago, as it was another night in which she had custody of her children, and I was left to go through the process alone. Truthfully, I didn’t mind. It was peacefully quiet in the store as I went through the motions, and it wasn’t long before I was yanking the heavy door to the entrance of Zest closed. I locked it with the set of keys that I kept in my purse and threw them back into the bag with a flourish that signified the end of my day.

Despite knowing that we lived in a safe area, I always had a nervous twinge run down my spine when I walked home at this hour. There was something about the silence and the dark of night that made the air around me feel oddly…tense. The foreboding sensation that commonly took over me always grew stronger as the hollow noise my steps made on the cobblestones shook my eardrums. This night and many nights before it, I found myself walking with bated breath. I glanced behind myself to see the street deserted and the lamplights glowing a peaceful yellow, but that did nothing to ease my anxiety for my upcoming stroll.

The wind blew, my bangs wisping across my forehead, and just as I had steeled myself to walk forward once more, my phone began to ring from the inside pocket of my purse. I was thankful for the distraction from my overly anxious thoughts, and upon seeing James’ name on the glass face of the screen, I smirked. Inane thoughts of being abducted in the street left my mind, and I slid my finger to answer the call.

“Well, hello there.”

“Miss Sheffield,” he greeted me happily.

James was in Lexington all week for work, as he had mentioned. The several days since I had last seen him had come and gone, and the cadence of the routine that we had created was one that was genuinely growing on me. He took note of when I was on the clock, called me when I was finished for the day, and talked with me while I walked home. It was peaceful, really.

“You’re right on time,” I told him.

“Am I?” he asked in such a way that I could envision the crooked smile on his face. “That’s not like me.”

“Every day that I’ve worked this week, I make it about half way down the first block and there you are—buzzing in my purse.” I grinned. “You’re very consistent.”

“A point of pride, really,” he returned.

“What are you up to?”

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