can look outside. Aside from a mostly empty parking lot, some trees planted in the grass, and a setting sun, there’s nothing out there. There could be some Rockheads waiting to jump me around the other side I guess, but I don’t smell anything...not that I can with this broken bottle of air freshener. I need to trash it before it chokes me.
When I hear voices whispering, I glance over my shoulder and see the guy is leaning over the counter talking to Ms. Librarian. She’s curvy, soft, and blonde. With a pale pink dress and a shy look about her, she’s basically the exact opposite of me. She has glasses on, and when they notice me looking, she shoots me an embarrassed look, her cheeks going pink. Of course she’s a blusher.
Remembering that she told the guy I was “scary,” I snicker. They’re probably talking shit. But by the looks of her, it’s entirely possible that I did scare her just by snoring at her table. She looks a little jumpy.
“Don’t worry, the scary female is leaving,” I tell her.
Somehow, her cheeks blush even more until the color spreads down her neck. The male frowns at me.
With a smirk, I turn around and shove the door open, letting myself out. It’s already after closing time, and the outdoor light pops on as I walk by. Heading for the parking lot, I dump the air freshener in the first trash can I see, wiping my hands on my ripped jean shorts where some of it leaked on me.
Glancing around, I wait a moment, but when no one comes out to jump me, I head for the street so I can make my way over to the hardware store. The sign I saw said they closed at five, so I’m hoping the owners are already gone and the place is empty.
But as soon as I make it to the sidewalk, my lips press together. There’s a line of kids with carpenter aprons on, standing outside the door of the hardware store, their parents mingling around. I watch as the door swings open, and the kids file in excitedly, talking about building birdhouses.
I stop in front of the storefront, glowering at the sign I missed earlier stating that tonight they’re holding a kids’ carpentry class. “Fucking great.”
I hang around for a second, wondering if I can go in and try to blend, but I quickly dismiss that. I’d stand out like a sore thumb, especially considering I don’t have a kid with me. I could probably borrow one real quick, but I suspect it might be frowned upon. I’ll have to wait until the place actually closes, and then break in. It’s either that or leave town tonight and hope I find someplace else.
Except that doesn’t seem smart either. At least here, I know the lay of the land. I don’t even know how far the next town is, and what if they only have huge chain stores? I can’t break into something like that without getting caught. I need to take care of my collar now before I stumble into another pack’s territory.
I hesitate on the sidewalk, debating what to do, until my ears perk up to the unmistakable sounds of a pool stick snapping against a cue ball.
Head turning, I spot the bar across the way, and my mind immediately settles on it. It’s the perfect place to lay low for a couple of hours. I cross the street and go inside, greeted by music trickling out of a jukebox and a couple dozen men inside. All of them are human, thank a motherfuck. They all look over at me as I head in, but here’s the thing about me, I’m not what you’d call...approachable. Unless it’s a trucker. I usually get pretty lucky with my mean mug, warding everyone to stay away.
I head further inside, taking stock of everyone as I go. They’re all blue collar types, varying in age. It looks like the guys who don’t have wives or kids are here instead, shooting the shit after a day’s work. Judging by the lingering looks I get, I’m guessing this place doesn’t get a lot of females.
There’s a pool table in the back corner with some guys playing, a long bartop that’s seen better days, and a few booths down the side. I make my way over to the bar, pocketing the dwindling plastic bag of supplies into my jacket.