Lost Boy - Ker Dukey Page 0,41

black mascara smudged under her eyes. “Seriously, it lasted less than a minute. Don’t worry that pretty virginal head over it.” She pats my head and goes back to serve a customer who just came in.

When she’s done, I grab her arm again, turning her to face me. “I’m serious about you staying away from the apartment.”

“I’m not leaving you or letting some fucking psycho push me out of my own home.” Her face turns red, her voice bordering on hysterics.

“Okay, okay, shhh…” I bring her back in for another hug, grateful this crazy woman is my best friend.

“Everything okay?” Stephan joins us at the counter, his eyes flitting around the shop, worried we’re causing a scene.

“Thank you for driving me to work, but you can go to class now. Honestly, I’m going to stay here until my shift starts, then maybe I can call you for a ride home?”

His gaze is probing, making me fidget. “Only if you’re sure?”

“She’s fine, Stephan. I’ll look out for her.” Charlotte rolls her eyes, her tone tiresome.

“Did I hear you say you sucked that old man’s cock?” Stephan mocks, his eyes narrowed, a sneer hooking his lips.

“Oh, kiss my ass,” she hisses.

The young girl sitting with Jeff stands to leave, shaking his hand and gliding across the room like a runway model. Both Charlotte and I grimace when Jeff tilts his head to watch her short skirt flirt with the line of her ass.

“You aren’t on until two,” Jeff informs me, dragging his sweaty body to the counter, Stephan backs away with a hand wave. “Laters.”

“Don’t get hit by a car or murdered by the serial killer,” Charlotte calls out after him, waving her fingers, a sickly smile plastered on her face.

“Charlotte,” I snap, gaping at her. She shrugs unapologetically.

“I’m only paying you for the shift you’re down to work,” Jeff interrupts, ignoring everything else.

“Who’s the twinkle-eyed Barbie?” Charlotte asks, tilting her head to the door.

“Why, you jealous?” Jeff licks his thin lips, his eyes roaming up Charlotte's cleavage. Pig.

“Ew, gross.” She gags.

“She’s going to be working here starting next week. Gaby quit,” he announces, rubbing a hand down his nonexistent beard.

“What? Why?” Charlotte gasps, wiping down a tray.

Jerking his shoulder, he says, “Fuck knows. She skipped her last three shifts.”

Our heads turn to stare at each other before returning to him. “Jeff, did you try calling her?”

Picking up his paper, he rounds the counter. “I shouldn’t have to chase my staff. She made her choice by not showing up.”

We follow him to his office. “You know there’s a killer on the loose butchering women, for fuck’s sake,” Charlotte barks, grabbing the phone off the wall and flitting through the numbers on the pad next to it. That’s all Jeff had to do. I chew my nails, my feet anxiously pacing back and forth. “Nothing.” She puts the phone down.

“I’ll go over there,” I announce, hating the idea, but also knowing I have to check on her. I have to know she’s okay.

“No way, Liz.” Charlotte shakes her head, her arms folding around herself.

“You’re both being ridiculous. Go back to work,” Jeff grumbles, squeezing his fat ass into the straining chair.

“I’m not on shift,” I remind him. Charlotte looks pale, her eyes unfocused. “It will be fine,” I assure her. “I’ll just go over there. If anything looks off, I’ll call the police.”

“As long as you’re back for your shift,” Jeff grunts.

“Fuck off, Jeff,” Charlotte snaps.

“Who’s the boss here?” he barks back, stretching his neck to look over his shoulder at us.

“It will be fine,” I assure her again, walking back into the shop.

I’m just about to leave when Clark walks through the front door, heading straight for us.

“Hey.” He smiles, looking between Charlotte and me. Dipping his head to the counter, an enchanting smile kisses his lips. “Polo,” he says, and my knees almost buckle. Clearing my throat, I say, “What did you say?” He taps his finger on the notepad where I’ve scribbled Marco over and over. “Polo.” The words slide over his tongue, slow, deliberate.

Snatching up the pad, Charlotte tears off the paper, scrunches it up, and tosses it in the trash. “Stop ruining the notepads with your scribblings,” she huffs.

“Did you get whatever it was taken care of?” Clark asks, dampening his lips with his tongue. I follow his path, wishing it was my tongue. Catching myself before I begin to drool, I tuck a curtain of hair behind my ear, nodding my head.

“You want in Lizzy’s pants, right?”