Dirty.
They made me feel lewd and obscene, as if I were naked, and nothing I could do could shield myself from them.
Once the back door was open, I started shoving in the grocery bags, just wanting to get in the vehicle, wanting to get back to the house… back to Fin. That last bit didn’t surprise me, although it should. I liked his presence.
He made me feel safe, not just because he was a big, Viking-sized man, but because there was a presence about him that made me feel like nothing could penetrate the safety that surrounded me when I was with him.
I put the last bag in the back and shut the door and was about to turn around and put the cart in the little corral, when a shocked gasp left me. The guy who’d been standing by the side of the building was now on the other side of the cart, his hand on the red handle, his cigarette now gone as he grinned at me.
He brought the bottle up and took another drink before saying, “You have a couple dollars you could spare?” His voice was scratchy, as if he’d been smoking for the past forty years, although he hadn’t even been alive that long.
He gave me a wider grin. I swallowed but didn’t answer right away. It wasn’t like I wasn’t used to people asking for money. That happened quite frequently in the city. But I just felt uncomfortable with this man, as if what he really wanted had nothing to do with cash.
I slowly shook my head. “I’m sorry. I don’t.” His smile faded, and he moved around the cart, coming closer to me. I shifted the cart so it was still between us.
“You’re telling me all those groceries you just bought, this big, nice SUV you drive, you can’t spare a couple bucks to someone in need?”
I started to get really nervous. “This is my employer’s vehicle. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.” I started pushing the cart toward the corral, but when he gripped my forearm and jerked me back, instinct took over.
His grip was strong, bruising even, and I knew he’d be going for my purse next. After that? I didn’t know. He seemed desperate for just about anything if he was willing to attack someone in the parking lot of a grocery store while it was still light out.
But living in the city meant you had to know how to take care of yourself. It had been something my father instilled in me when I was younger. So I’d taken self-defense classes religiously. I’d never had to use them, not until now.
I brought my knee up right to his groin, and the grunt of pain that came from him gave me pride. He doubled over, grabbing his crotch as he struggled to catch his breath.
He stumbled backward, his body hitting one of the other vehicles, the car alarm going off and the brown-paper-covered liquor bottle falling from his grasp. The bottle didn’t break, but the sound of it clanking on the pavement seemed to echo loudly. The alcohol that was left inside poured out onto the asphalt.
He hauled ass out of there, the commotion drawing attention. I shoved the cart in the corral and got in the Suburban quickly, locking the doors and squeezing the steering wheel tightly.
My heart was beating like a racehorse, and a light sheen of sweat covered my body. I looked down at my forearm, the skin red and feeling raw. I knew there would be a bruise before the night was over with.
Half an hour later, I pulled in front of the house and cut the engine. My pulse had calmed slightly, but my mind was still running wild over the situation. My arm burned, the redness starting to show purple and blue on my skin.
I closed my eyes and just breathed. I pushed the experience away—tried to, at least—knowing I couldn’t let it affect me or I’d obsess over it. Things could have gone a lot worse, but they didn’t. I’d handled myself, diffused the situation just like I’d been taught, and I was whole.
Maybe I should have called the police, but I’d just wanted to get out of there. And besides, it wasn’t like I knew who the guy was. Aside from the serpent tattoo on his arm and the missing tooth he sported, he was probably like any other guy who thought they could take advantage.
I exhaled once more and smoothed my hands over my thighs. Things weren’t so bad, I kept telling myself. I let my mind go to Fin and it made me feel more at ease.
He made me feel more at ease.
The one thing about Finland Hawthorne was he not only wanted meals prepared each night, but he wanted me to actually eat those meals with him. At first, I declined, not feeling comfortable. I was his employee, after all, and eating with my boss seemed very personal and almost intimate.