Page 6 of Scrooge

“You came out of nowhere!”

“I came out of here, dickwad. Or are you just walking around the city with your eyes glued to the ground?” I snarl, throwing my hands at the shop, and his eyes thin. He might be good-looking, but his personality leaves a lot to be desired.

“Dickwad?” he huffs. “Classy,” he says pointedly, and my anger rises. Sure, maybe my language skills are learned from the ten-year-old boys who come into the store fighting over the last laser gun, instead of theOxford Dictionarythis guy must read, but I stand firm. He is a dickwad.

“Considering you haven’t apologized and or ensured that I’m uninjured, I am guessing class isn’t one of your best qualities either,” I say with a tilt of my head.

His eyes glide down to my toes and back up again, and I am not sure why, but my body heats under his gaze. My mouth dries a little as my heart thuds harder in my chest.

“I thought this store closed years ago. Don’t know why you bother,” he quips, and I squeeze my fingers together, the urge to punch him in the face coming on strong. I notice the rain drops now pearling on his coat at his shoulders. They run across and drip off him as he leans forward, looking in my half-designed window. As he does, the glow from the shop casts him in a little more light, and my breaths catch in my throat. His eyes dart to mine, and I stand still, frozen in place. I have no idea who he is, but I am pretty sure a front cover of a magazine is calling because he is too damn hot.

“What do you mean, why bother?” I ask, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

“This street will be full of condos soon. Apartments, retail. Can’t you see the progress going on around you?” As he steps back into the darkness, I look around like I am seeing it all for the first time. He’s right. Our shop looks almost comical sitting between two very large high-rise buildings. The florist across the road from us shut down months ago and is already demolished, with apartments taking its place.

“Soon, there will be no heart left in this city,” I murmur as my eyes settle back on him, as he watches me carefully. His jaw ticks, and if that isn’t the sexiest thing I have ever seen in real life, I don’t know what is. When my eyes flick back to meet his again, he’s still watching me, like he is trying to figure me out. I raise an eyebrow in question, making him clear his throat.

“Just watch where you’re going next time.” Pocketing his hands, he scowls at me as he starts to walk past. But I can’t help myself as my mouth speaks for me once more.

“You are the one with the eyesight problem,” I mutter, crossing my hands over my chest. I shiver a little. I hadn’t noticed it before, but the rain is now coming down heavily. My hair sticks to the side of my face, and my shirt is becoming soaked. But I don't move. I grit my teeth and give him my best death stare. I am not going to be pushed around by some asshole in a suit. It’s happened to me before, and I’m not going to let it happen again. The ding of bells from cyclists nearby and the honk of horns all assault my ears, but I hear him when he replies.

“Just one of many, apparently.” He sighs. “Get inside, you’re getting wet.”

I swallow harshly at his demand. Kindness sneaks through, even though he’s already walking away from me. I stand there in the rain, watching his back as he makes his way farther down the street. There are businessmen around here sometimes. Usually at lunch, but never at night. Not walking in the rain like this. They usually have cars and drivers and security. It has me questioning my impression of him.

My eyes stay on him until he gets to the end of the street and turns the corner. But not before he glances back, his face shrouded in shadows, but I know he is looking at me. He tips his head sideways, indicating for me to go inside, and I nod in understanding as I take a step toward the shop.

Maybe he’s not just an asshole in a suit. Maybe he just had a bad day too.

4

HAYLEE

I’m breathless as Jillian and I run to catch the train. Late-night travel in New York isn’t ideal, but we are together, and we step into the carriage in sync, relieved to be inside and away from the cool air.

“Hey, Deloris,” I say as we take a seat and spot another regular commuter.

“Ahhh, shut up.” She scowls, and I smile.

“We missed you too,” I say, looking at the homeless lady who has been riding this train line for years. Her skin is heavily wrinkled from being outside in the elements, reflective of the hard life she has lived.

“You’re late,” she snaps.

“The toy store needed a new window. Thanksgiving is not far away.” In exactly three weeks, two days, and sixteen hours. I’m excited for my second favorite holiday of the year.

“You got any food?” she snaps again, and Jillian pulls out the sandwich she made in the staff kitchen before we left—in case we saw her. Deloris snatches it and unwraps it quickly, stuffing it in her mouth like she is starved. She probably is.

“Where are you sleeping tonight, Deloris?” Jillian asks. We have tried to help her many times over the years. Clothes, food, shelter. She takes the clothes and food, but she has been on the streets for a long time, and as a lifer, she doesn’t like the shelters much, seeming to prefer riding the subway all night.

“None of your business.” Crumbs fall from her mouth with her response. I give her a small soft smile as the train takes on more passengers.

“Urgghhh, disgusting,” a well-dressed woman says as she walks past the three of us in her business attire and sky-high stilettos, clearly either having just finished work or heading home at the end of her after-work drinks. I frown at her acting like we are diseased.

“It isn’t hard to just shut up and walk past. No need to comment,” I mumble under my breath, and Jillian elbows me in the side.

“Don’t start anything,” she whispers and gives the woman an evil side-eye, although she isn’t looking at us anymore, her head firmly buried in her phone. I watch her as she lifts the phone and purses her lips, taking a selfie, and I roll my eyes.

“It isn’t hard for people to be nice,” I tell my sister, and she gives me a thin-lipped smile.

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