Strut the Mall (Love at Westbrook Mall #4)

5. Late

5

Late

Customers were in a frenzy over ‘comfy’ party shoes–as if there was such a thing. Maybe if they’d bought shoes two months ago and broke them in, they wouldn’t be scrambling.

I texted some of my clients on my breaks or when Andre wasn’t around to micromanage me. Going offline for too long wasn’t good for business. I also uploaded a few pics and videos I’d pre-recorded of my ‘NYE foot care routine’ and asked, “What’s your resolution?” Clients loved that. They responded with stuff like, “Make new friends” and “Meet you, sexy ;)” It was so easy to reply, “I’ll be your friend” and vague kissy face and heart emojis. Often, I sent a follow-up like, “how’s your day?” or “what are your plans tonight?”

Anon73: Stuck at the office. Boss has been riding me about this project.

Part of me wanted to vent about my boss, but for these guys, I wasn’t supposed to have a job any more than I was supposed to have a boyfriend. Clients wanted a fantasy, not the woes of some girl in a hideous lime-green tee stuck working late at Fancee’s on New Year’s Eve.

Me: Bet I could ride you better ;) but that sucks! What a dick. He should at least throw you a party.

Anon73: The office already had their holiday party. That cheapskate nitpicks everything.

I barely had time to reply with a sad face before he launched into a rant. At least he had somewhere to dump his complaints. Plus, it was a few extra dollars for me.

Andre’s footsteps clanged against the stairs from his office. “Nicole,” he called.

I shoved my phone into my pocket. “Yeah?”

“Why is there a size six where the size nine should be?”

“I don’t know.” Hurricane Cassandra, probably.

“You need to be checking sizes,” he said.

“I do.” I might not care about this job, but I still did it properly.

He clambered down to this level and slung his blazer over his shoulder. “Maybe you need to check it twice, then.”

Who did he think I was, Santa Clause? I wasn’t the one who put it in the wrong place. Why did I have to double check everything? Especially on a holiday when he knew I was in a hurry.

“Happy closing.” Andre toasted me with his travel mug full of ‘coffee’ and suckled the dispenser.

“Happy closing.” Jackass.

Everything was easier once he left. I managed to keep our section tidy enough that my department was one of the first to be dismissed by the floor manager. Speeding home, I showered and primped. I had to wash that stock-room mustiness off and lotion up with a tasteful amount of body glitter.

My phone pinged with a normal text instead of one from the fan app.

Theo: Where you at?

Me: On my way 3

I ran to the car amid a soft flurry of snow and booted up my GPS. Damn, my hair was still kinda damp. Soon, it’d be frozen stiff. Hopefully, it would thaw from the heated air in the car. The venue wasn’t exactly high-brow, anyways. Neon bar signs glowed through the brewing storm, beckoning customers inside for beer, brats, and billiards. Two flashing music notes blinked next to an all-caps purple font announcing ‘Live Music.’ What were the odds this bar had a coat check? I’d hate to carry mine around all night or worry about a purse, so I peeled off my jacket, stuck my credit card and ID into the back of my phone case, slung my most important keys through my necklace, and adjusted the rearview mirror for one last lipstick check.

My eyeliner was slightly smudged, but overall I looked good. Definitely hot, right? My sequined romper plunged into my cleavage and showed off my back, but the flared layers near the shorts prevented any booty flashing. Yes. This was good. Probably too good for this bar, but good nonetheless.

As soon as I stepped out of the car, cold air slapped my skin. I cursed and power-walked to the entrance, ignoring the sting of snow against my mostly-exposed feet. I’d have to ask Theo to pull his car up at the end of the night so I didn’t lose a toe. Ankle-strapped pumps were hot as hell, but not great for cross-country skiing.

A guy in a black hoodie shoveled the sidewalk, a phone perched between his shoulder and cheek. His voice boomed over harsh scrapes. “No, I’m not going to kiss anybody. Because I’m working. No. No, not even if they ask me. You can’t visit me, you have to go to sleep. Happy New Year. Now, go…to…sleep. I love you too, weirdos. Don’t bother me until next year.”

Ha , if only I could’ve said that last part to Andre as he was leaving. I huddled into myself and hurried past the shovel guy.

More buff guys in black hoodies blocked the entrance, the bar name stamped across the front and back of their jackets. Shivering, I tried to slip past them, but they closed into an impenetrable wall, trapping in all the heat. I flashed them a stiff smile. Weren’t hot girls welcome in most bars?

“Hi. Excuse me, my boyfriend’s in there,” I said.

The guy who’d been on the phone sniffed and walked past me to prop the shovel against the wall. “We’re pretty much at capacity, so if you’re not on the list, you’re not getting in.”

“I’m on the list,” I said. Theo better have put me on there. Otherwise, I’d freeze to death.

The bouncer yanked a clipboard out of the back of his jeans. “Okay. Name and ID?” As he turned to me, I sucked in a cold, sharp breath. That boxy mug of his looked stronger in the moonlight.

Zack.

My heart whipped against my ribcage with the same sting of a dodgeball in gym class. “Are you serious?” I asked. My extremities tingled in protest.

He clicked a pen and narrowed his gaze at me. “Yes.”

I let out a huff of disbelief, my breath crystalizing on its way to him. He tugged his reddened ear, his gaze briefly dropping before averting from me entirely.

All those years in high school… We just met again this week. He still didn’t remember me?