Page 3 of Lunar Diamonds
After calling Carol, she came out of her office to deal with the situation. She first listened to the goblin go off, then heard my side of the story. Seeing as there were other customers browsing the shelves near the desk, they all corroborated my side of the story.
Bless their cotton socks.
Carol wasn’t having his nonsense. She’d told Sally to lock the entrance doors, and another colleague to call the police.
“This is false imprisonment!” the goblin wailed. “This will not stand.” He fished a phone from his pocket. “I am calling my lawyer.”
“Do it,” Carol responded.
The goblin dialed, quickly spitting demands down his phone.
Carol dropped her arms, coming over to me. “Are you alright? How’s the foot?”
I nodded. “Nothing broken.”
My manager’s friendly face always made me feel ten times better. Her fair skin and rosy cheeks gave off serious cutie pie vibes. But she was also formidable as hell. Having previously worked in a prison, she took zero crap.
“Good. Go take a break.”
“I’m fine.”
She cocked a severe brow at me. “Break. Now.”
“Am I in trouble?
“Why would you be?”
I rubbed the back of my head. “For mouthing off.”
She smiled warmly. “A first time for everything. Don’t worry. This isn’t your fault. You were assaulted. Now go. I’ll deal with this.”
Knowing not to argue, I headed across the library’s ground floor toward the door leading into the staff only area.
“Where is he going?” the goblin bellowed.
“None of your business,” Carol rebutted.
Other things were said, but I ignored them. Head dipped to avoid eye contact, I typed in the door’s code and vanished into the peaceful haven of the customer-free zone.
I leaned on a shelf filled with encyclopedias, catching my breath.
Stupid goblin, getting the better of me. Good job my temperament didn’t run hot.
Ugh. What a day.
After a minute or so, I made my way up the spiral staircase to the workroom on the first floor.
My foot still throbbed, but I walked fine. Nothing sitting for half an hour or so wouldn’t ease. Oh, and a nice cup of tea.
January sunlight spilled across the threadbare blue carpet and white walls of the workroom through the panoramic window on my left.
Nina, a werewolf and colleague, stood by the window, her incredible purple hair almost blinding in the sunlight. She watched the city of Coldharbour, her arms tightly folded across her chest, the green frames of her glasses complimenting her tawny beige complexion.
Our workroom overlooked a small shopping precinct. I joined her, watching people milling about, enjoying a sunny yet cold day after a week of gloomy fog and rain, grabbing bargains from the January sales.
Mental note: must seek out discounted lamps. I broke my last one on Christmas Day like a complete fool. That’ll teach me for twerking too hard to Elton John’s ‘Step Into Christmas.’
“I heard there was drama,” Nina said, keeping her eyes on the shoppers.
