Page 72 of The Pumpkin Spice Romance
PUMPKIN SPICE JOY RIDE
By K. Harris Tully
(Non-Paranormal)
1
Carrie Smith looked at the growing pile of disemboweled FurrBabies on her right, the rising tide of spilled coffee grounds about to overflow onto her no longer white Keds, and the small stack of plastic bags of white powder (she assumed cocaine) on her left. Where had her life gone so wrong? Her brain supplied ready answers: Most recently, the great Halloween debacle of 1998. Before that, her stupidity in majoring in English Lit with no real plan for getting a job. And prior to both of those, her irreparably flawed taste in men.
And now it was the night before Thanksgiving, almost the end of the year—it would be 1999 in just over a month for cripes sake! Prince had really been ahead when he released that track in the early 80s—and what did she have to show for it? All of her past life choices were catching up with her. She was broke, barely clinging to employment, lacking a mandatory Thanksgiving side dish for the next day, and worse than everything else by her family’s judgment—single.
Which was possibly why she was in her current fudged-up situation . . . and even now, even just in her head, she couldn’t properly swear. That probably said something about her.
Her old high-school crush, Buck “Bad-Boy” Buchetti walked down the line of tables, setting a brand-new (looking) FurrBaby in front of each worker. There were seven of them total: five teen boys ranging in age from about 15 to 18, plusBuck and Carrie. They had set up in the back warehouse of the local Toys-A-Lot where Carrie had recently been promoted to manager—a bump in title, but not pay. At best, it felt like settling further into a boring life she didn’t want, and at worst, like falling into a hole when she couldn’t find the energy to climb out.
But now, here was Buck in front of her like a shot of adrenaline to her comatose system, or maybe like Nitrous Oxide to a neglected engine. If possible, he was even taller, darker, and more handsome than she remembered, with that same wicked grin that had made Carrie weak in the knees in high school. Turned out, six years later, it still did.
While her libido said,yes, please!her brain sounded a weak alarm.Dangerous.
At least she could give Buck a point in his favor for running an open gang. His young “associates” were an eclectic mix, all boys full of strutting bravado but seemingly good natured, and wearing jeans sagged so low they had to keep their hands in their pockets when they walked, the belt clearly more fashion than function. In the negative column however, Carrie was the only female present and she wasn’t really here by choice. Minus three points. It probably should have been more than three.
Sighing, Carrie pushed the lock of wavy blond hair that had escaped her Rachel Green up-twist out of her face and went back to the inescapable task at hand:
Open the bottom of the box (where the original seal had obviously been disturbed.) Take out the fake-furred, neonowl-ish monstrosity—and hot new item of the season—the FurrBaby X-Tra Stuffed.
Pull open the flap at the bottom of the creeptastic toy’s oddly heavy, granular feeling rearend and pull out the reason for said strangeness, a plastic bag of coffee grounds.
Open the bag and carefully remove the package of cocaine inside, placing it to her left for Buck to pick up on his next pass.
Give a full-body shudder as the now floppy-skinned horror decided to turn itself on and began talking gibberish out of its—was that a beak? Toss it onto the pile to her right. The stack of deflated furry things now almost filled one of the crates the toys had arrived in.
Wonder how she was going to make this work. Because ithadto work.
It was Thanksgiving Eve and Carrie had been giddy after a visit at closing from her old crush Buck. He was bringing her a “misplaced” container shipment of the toy that could save her store, the impossible-to-get FurrBaby. How had he managedthat?Carrie knew there had to be a catch to the deal, thiswasBuck after all, but it had felt like the answer to her Black Friday prayers.
Now, not only had she found the catch, she was sitting smack in the middle of it.
Back in high school, there’d been a rumor about Buck’s family being in the mafia. She hadn’t thought much of it at the time. They were so nice. Mr. Buchetti was a big booster for the football team and Mrs. Buchetti made delicious Italian almond cookies for the bake sale every year. How could they be mafia bosses? But now she could see that they totally were, and Buckwas determinedly moving up the ranks. He’d been put in charge of shipments (just this shipment? All shipments? She didn’t know) and there had been an untimely strike at the dock. He needed an alternate way of getting rid of the way too noticeable “packaging” his suppliers had used, aka, the much-abused FurrBabies. And he’d remembered from their recent five-year reunion that Carrie had stupidly taken over managing the local Toys-A-Lot. Then came the article in the newspaper about the court case, the Halloween fiasco, and how much money she owed. When he'd said how unfair the ruling was she’d teared up. Everyone else said it was her fault. Buck had always known an easy mark when he’d seen one.
“Buck,” Carrie said to him on his next pass to place the cocaine from each table into an unmarked duffle bag. “You know I can’t sell these things like this. Where’s the stuffing they took out?”
“Carrie. Caarrrie.” He pulled her name out like caramel, like he was savoring it, leaning companionably against her table and gave her the half-smile that used to charm the pants off half the girls in school. “You’re new here, so I’m gonna clue you in.”Herewas apparently referring to the mob. Part of her wanted to point out that she hadn’t agreed to join his mafia gang, but that was shoved aside as she felt a thrill shiver up her spine when he focused on her with those intense, blue eyes. She bit her lip.
“I’m handing you a goldmine, Carrie, but I need you to do some of the digging.” His eyes dropped to her teeth digging into her lower lip and he leaned in, his fingers trailing lightly up her arm. His voice dropped to a rumble. “You gotta have a little skin in the game, you know what I’m sayin’?”
She sucked in a breath. Was he threatening her or flirting? Either way she felt breathless and a little bit scared. She’d never been involved in anythingillegalbefore and she couldn’t help the full-body flush of excitement at the thought. Or was it Buck’s nearness? Goosebumps rose on her arm as he slowly, lightly dragged the backs of his fingers up and down her arm. The corners of his full lips ticked up, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. Carrie gulped. He stared directly into her eyes. It was completely unfair for a man to have such long, dark lashes.
“So the stuffing got left behind. What can ya do? Sometimes you have to do some problem solving if you want to make some dough.”
She tried to focus on his words and not her stomach doing flips at a simple touch on her arm. What were they talking about again? Oh yeah, problem solving. He wasn’t wrong. She really did need the money. That court judgment wasn’t going to pay itself.
He leaned in far too close and she tried not to like the woodsy scent of aftershave mixed with the faint aroma of coffee. “Don’t you want to be part of the solution,Cara?” he said the endearment with an Italian accent he must have picked up at home. It was so close to her name and yet worlds apart.
He winked at her and walked on down the line, giving her time to think. Carrie gulped and blindly went back to disemboweling the next fluorescent gremlin.
“Ugh, I’m so going to jail,” she mumbled to herself.Either that or for a swim wearing cement shoes.There had to be athird option.Make out in the backseat of Buck’s ’68 Charger like she’d daydreamed about in high school?
No, not that. She mentally slapped herself. She did wonder if he still had that car though.
