"Hey Abby," he said, giving her a long once-over as he stepped into the doorway.
"Robby," Abby replied, eyeing him up as well. "We're going to my place this time."
"Where do you live?"
"About two inches above your face, sweet cheeks," she said, making me have to cover a laugh by slamming a pot down. "See? Right over his head," she said, shaking her head at his blank look. "Lock this door. And make sure the delivery guys lock the back when they come in and out too. Come on, Wallbanger. You have some work to do."
With that, they were gone.
And thanks to an onslaught of orders, I was able to drift out of my thoughts for the afternoon, half aware of the creepy show on the TV Abby never did tell me where the remote to was, working me up to a fit of nerves until the phone rang and I nearly jumped out of my skin.
"Hey, your plans with Mr. You'llSpeakInTongues aren't tonight, right?"
"No, tomorrow."
"Would you mind swinging a double? I will pay you overtime. Wallbanger must have been chugging energy drinks and wild yak essence because he is still hard as steel. And this girl needs as much stress relief as possible or I am going to have to take that script my shrink keeps trying to throw at me."
"No problem," I agreed, shooting the recreated kidnapping on the TV a wary look. The restaurant didn't close until two in the morning. By then, I should be jumping at my own shadow with this crap. "Can I..."
"Thanks so much. You're the best. Oh, well, yes, you may have a little snack..." Abby said, voice dipping low enough that I decided to go ahead and hang up before her end got decidedly X-rated.
The orders died down around half after one in the morning, giving me time to load the dishwasher, wipe down all the surfaces, and leave Abby a note about what we were running low on for when she got in early the next morning like she always did to check on stock.
With that, I took a deep breath, slipping the pocketknife Thad had given to me into my palm as I made my way through the restaurant to check the back door before going out the front where I would find my bike locked into the bike rack installed between Abby's and the store next door.
My head peeked out before I moved outward, turning to lock the door then pull down the metal cage, locking that into the ground, making my way to my bike to work that lock free, my heart wedged pretty firmly up in my throat.
"Baby, the fuck you doing here this late?"
Yeah, so, I screamed.
And not one of those kinda quiet inward breath screams.
No.
I screamed.
Like a girl in a horror movie who has been haunted by ghosts for months and then someone suddenly grabs her shoulder out of nowhere.
That kind of scream.
"Christ," Virgin's voice hissed, his hand going over my mouth. "It's me," he added when my whole body jolted. "You good?" he asked before he let his hand drop from my mouth, making me spin to find him standing there, the streetlight casting him half in shadow.
"Sorry. I'm jumpy. Abby has the stupid TV set to all those true crime shows. It's making me paranoid."
"Paranoid in this town isn't a bad thing. But, Freddie, babe, the knife works better if you open it before a threat shows itself," he told me, reaching down for my hand, pulling out the knife, flicking it open. "Jab," he told me, closing my hand around it, then pulling my arm out to jab toward his chest. "Or slice, but this way," he told me, turning the knife so that the blade was parallel with my forearm when it lifted. "Your arm is stronger this way," he explained.
Finding myself oddly breathless - and not from the scare - I swallowed hard twice before I could find words. "Were you waiting here for me?"
"Honest answer? When I noticed your bike here when I drove home an hour ago, I figured I would chance a walk around at closing time to make sure you aren't driving that damn bike home at this hour."
"Actually, my..." The flash of headlights stopping behind Virgin made my words fall away.
"Brother?" he asked, half turning as the door to Colson's SUV flew open, his body hopping out, muscles tensed, ready to beat the hell out of the strange man with me alone at night... when my knife was out.
"Wait," I said, holding up a hand, palm out. "It's alright, Colson. I know him," I told him as he got to Virgin's side in about two angry, protective strides. "He was actually making sure I was safe," I added as Colson sized him up. Virgin, it seemed, was doing the same.