Two hours later both my positivity and my ego are feeling a little bruised. Neither one of the town’s hair salons are looking for new employees. The grocery store manager told me to try again after the holidays. No one at the auto parts store would even speak to me. Two fast food establishments allow me to fill out an application but don’t seem optimistic that any jobs will be opening up in the near future. The pair of elderly sisters running an insurance office were very nice and regretted that they did not have any need of office help. But they did offer me a soda and a couple of stale ginger snap cookies before sending me on my way.
At this point my feet hurt and I’m running out of places to try. The bench at the bus stop is empty so I take a seat and stare moodily at the sights of Devil Valley. No one would call this a pretty town and for most of my life I’ve been in a hurry to get out of here. Lately I’ve been trying not to dwell on the reality that I won’t be going very far next year.
I notice a pair of guys walking down Cardinal Street in my direction. They are wearing Devil Valley High jackets and they are the McGill brothers, Alex and Damian. They are strong and violent and vulgar and they are definitely heading this way. I’ve known them since grade school and the older they grew the meaner they got. Then puberty hit and magnified their worst qualities. On the first day of eighth grade Damian snapped my bra strap so hard my eyes watered. Then Alex leaned in to chuckle in my ear, ‘Like it or not, we’re gonna bust your sweet cherry one of these days, Galway.’ Ever since transferring to Black Mountain I’ve managed to stay out of their orbit. I’d rather not change that habit today.
Running away would only attract their attention so I frantically search for an alternative. There’s a gas station across the street. When I was little it was a big treat to be allowed to walk down to Dee’s Gas and Goods and buy some candy with my allowance money but that was years ago and I can’t remember the last time I was inside. Dee Cushing is a friend of my dad’s. They went to high school together because Devil Valley is filled with people who were born here and never found a way to leave. Right now Dee’s store is looking like a fine place to hide from the McGill brothers for a little while.
I keep my head down as I hurry across the street, hoping the McGills are too occupied with trying to shove each other off the curb to notice my presence. The bell above the glass door emits a rusty jingle when I walk in and I glance back to see if the McGills are following.
They have come to a dead stop twenty yards away. They are staring right at me and oozing malevolent energy. They resemble oversized testosterone versions of the creepy little girls in The Shining. However, I do believe I’d take my chances with the weird ghost girls over the McGill brothers.
“You lost?”
I yelp and spin around. My brain recognizes the voice even before my eyes take in the sight of Ben Beltran behind the counter, leaning on his elbows and looking all devil-may-care as you please. His hair is tousled, he hasn’t shaved and somehow he has the ability to make the ugly red work smock look good.
Finding him here is a shock and so I ask a stupid question. “You work here?”
“No. I stole this trendy vest and for shits and giggles I hang out behind the counter.”
“Whatever.” I glance outside. The McGills are now crossing the street and moving rapidly in this direction. “Look, is there a different door that I could leave from?”
“Why? Did you break that one?”
“The McGill brothers are coming.”
“You owe them money or something?”
“Ben.” With a sigh and a silent curse I decide to level with him. “You know what they’re like. And I’m just not in the mood to be grabbed or propositioned or otherwise sexually harassed right now.”
I have no confidence the plea will make any difference to Ben but apparently he’s not made of stone after all. Something shifts in his expression and he nods.
“Wait in the stockroom. I’ll let you know when they’re gone.”
“Thanks.”
The stockroom is behind a gray door in the back of the store. There’s no window and immediately a sense of claustrophobia smacks me as the messy, disorganized shelves seem to close in. I look around in search of a back door but no such luck. A few seconds later the clink of the entrance bell and a flurry of ‘fuck’ words heralds the arrival of the McGill brothers. The door is thick and I don’t dare crack it open. The only thing worse than straight up running into the McGills would be if they caught me cowering back here. I hear the low murmur of Ben’s voice followed by an outburst of bawdy laughter. It occurs to me that I have no idea if Ben is actually a friend of theirs. I really don’t know Ben Beltran very well at all. He comes across as an arrogant, smirking jerk and crude rumors follow in his wake but Ben offers few clues about what goes on inside that absurdly good looking head of his. He might be pointing out my hidden location to the McGill brothers right now.
Just in case, I search for an object that might be used as a weapon. A wire rack filled with cheap wine bottles sits to my right. I seize one and grip the neck like a baseball bat, making a plan to knock it against the head of the first McGill brother that opens the door.
Footsteps approach. A knuckle raps on the door three times. My fingers tighten around the neck of the wine bottle.
The door is flung open and Ben Beltran scowls at me.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Defending myself.” I crane my neck in an attempt to peer around his shoulder. “Are they behind you?”
He backs up and crosses his arms. “No, they’re not fucking behind me. They left.”
I relax slightly and dare to take a step out of the stockroom. “I didn’t hear the bell.”
“I guess I should have told them to exit more forcefully.” His head tilts and he appraises me. “Was it seriously your plan to destroy the McGill brothers with a five dollar wine bottle?”
“I don’t know,” I grumble and set the wine on a nearby shelf. Either the shelf isn’t level or else I’m clumsier than I thought. The bottle wobbles for a hair raising second and then crashes to the floor. Glass shatters in a dark red puddle.
Ben stares at the puddle. “Good going.”
This could probably be more mortifying, although I don’t see how. “I’ll clean it up.”
Ben does not argue. “Mop and dust pan are in the corner back there. You might have seen them while you were hiding.”
He walks back to the front to reclaim his place behind the counter. I find the cleanup tools and wish the store was bigger so that I would be out of his line of sight. I can feel him watching me as I sweep up the largest shards of glass.
“I’m surprised the McGills left so easily.”
Ben takes his time about responding. I’ve noticed that about him, even in class. He often seems to weigh his words before allowing them to leave his mouth.
“I gave them some snacks to hasten their departure.”
“Are you allowed to do that?”
He sighs with obvious annoyance. “I paid the register back out of my own pocket.”
“Oh.” I bite my lower lip. I can’t even offer to pay him back right now. I have exactly two dollars in my pocket.
There is a small sink in the stockroom and luckily a faucet hose is attached so I’m able to fill the bucket after adding a capful of soap.