cracks in the door.
His thoughts ran wild. Not again. My luck sucks crap lately.
He reached in his pocket to retrieve his pistol. Come on, George, think! The gun would make too much noise, and it would give you away. Putting the gun back in his pocket, he looked down at the strap in his other hand. The belt. Yeah, the belt.
He stretched it out. This thing’s useless. He frowned. Why didn’t I take karate when I had the chance? Because I was lazy, that’s why. They’re gonna kick the trash out of me when they find me.
He leaned over and peeked through one of the cracks in the door. Oh hell ... what if they find the money? They’re gonna rip me in half.
“Jonathan Walker Smith!” a lady’s voice called out.
“What?” the man shouted back and then muttered to his friend. “That woman will never leave me alone.”
“They’re all the same,” the other voice responded. “My old heel is always yelling at me to do something as well.”
“Jonathan Smith, get in here and beat these kids! They won’t listen!” the lady yelled again.
“Be right there!” he shouted back in his most charming voice and then added so only his friend could hear, “You old bat ... can you blame them for ignoring you?” He nudged his friend. “If only there was an elixir to shut them up.”
“We could always pray to Bassorine to take our hearing,” the other man replied. “We should pray tonight.”
Both men laughed before they headed their separate ways.
George stood still against the wall and waited for his heart to slow down. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he made sure everything inside the store was in order. He managed a weak smile as he secured the lock. A good thief always covers his tracks. I still need to take karate, though. He headed into the night.
George made his way through town to an inn he had seen earlier in the day. He took the backpack and rubbed it in the dirt so it didn’t look so new. He also added a little character to his shirt and pants before he entered. Once inside, he watched the people move about, but now, no one turned a head to take notice. He sighed with relief.
The ale that people were ordering cost one Helmep. He listened as a man ordered a room and handed the registrar behind the desk one Owain. It was not long before he figured out that one Owain coin was worth four Helmep. Once he felt he understood the finances of the transactions, he walked to the desk and waited for the woman to acknowledge him.
“What do you want?” the lady snapped, not looking up from her logbook. “I’m not going to take anymore lip from you Cottle boys. I’ve had enough of your comments about how my dress fits my bosom. That whole city is full of undesirables. Don’t any of you know how to treat a lady?”
George took a step back from the verbal assault and thought a moment before he reapproached. “Miss, I’m not from Cottle, and although you’re beautiful, I would not have the nerve to say something that wasn’t a welcomed advance. I’m sorry you’ve been mistreated. Some men just don’t realize that if it wasn’t for good women, there wouldn’t be any good men. But I do.”
The lady stopped writing and looked up. She took note of George’s deep-blue eyes, brown hair, and unblemished skin. They captured her fancy. The registrar’s face beamed with satisfaction as she pushed her long, blonde hair behind her ears and looked him over from head to toe with her blue eyes. His thin, athletic build was pleasing, and she liked everything she saw.
“Well now ... a man who understands how to treat a lady. How can I help you, honey?” she asked while adjusting her bosom to a more ample and visible position—the same bosom she had just complained about other men noticing.
George smiled. “Well, Miss, I just came in from out of town, and I was jumped on my way here.”
The woman’s brow furrowed. “Jumped?”
“Yeah,” George nodded, “by thieves.”
“What are thieves?” she questioned, her head cocked.
The registrar’s response caught George off guard. “Ummm, you know, people that take your things and run off with them?”
A look of understanding appeared on the woman’s face. “Ohhhh, you mean you were ransacked by mishandlers? That’s terrible!”
“Yeah, mishandlers,” George replied without missing a beat. “How silly of me. I misspoke. Anyway ... I shouted since that