Page 5 of Living with Death

I ruck my sleeves, narrowing my eyes. “Why would you sleep with your landlord?”

She walks around her counter. “I came up short on rent, so I said, what the hell. He’s cute, we’re both single, let us both get something out of it, but now he’s in love or something. I may have to move.”

I shake my head, grabbing another sheet of stickers. I look at the window and put some in the top right corner. It doesn’t make sense that I decorate this place but not my house.

She crosses her arms. “Maybe we should do a haunted house in the store this year. We could get some strobe lights, black lights, and fog lights. We all could dress up. It could be fun.”

“Go ask Robbie. He might go for it.”

She looks at her nails. “Maybe. So, you never answered me about going out.”

I side-eye her. “I did answer you.”

“You said you had a book to read, but how about you save that for later and go with me instead? Aren’t you book people always saying how you wish you could read the book for the first time? Well, you won’t have to because it’ll be unread sitting beside your bed, couch, or wherever you read.”

I sigh.

“Mabel Carmichael, I refuse to take no for an answer. You never venture out of that creepy old house except to come here.”

“How do you know I don’t venture out?”

“Because I’d see you out. And no one sees you out.” She lifts her brow. “Come have a drink with me.” She pouts.

“You’re killing me,” I say, deadpan.

“So, you’ll go?” she asks, wiggling her brow.

“Fine. One drink, and I’m out.”

She grins and squeals. “Finally, I got you to do something.”

“No one can call you a quitter, that’s for sure.”

She smirks. “My high school soccer coach would disagree.”

I raise my brow. “You played soccer?”

She gives me a pointed look. “Exactly.”

“I won, I won, I won.” Neal comes running into the store, holding a lottery ticket. The door sways closed behind him. I roll my shoulder, rubbing the ache from reaching up so high.

Neal is a regular, and he’s also one of our Cash Three addicts. Every day he plays the exact numbers, and he wins often, but the thing about Neal––

“How much did you win?” Patty says.

“Twelve bucks!” He smiles proudly, placing his ticket onto the counter.

–––He never wins much.

Robbie walks out of the office. “You’re on a roll,” he says.

“Leigh been by here? Thought I’d grab us some McDonald’s.”

“She has, and she’s already got plans with a bottle of wine,” Patty says.

Jason walks back inside, and I see his shoulders tense.

“Don’t worry,” I whisper behind him. “Leigh doesn’t know he exists either.”

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