“And what about Liv?”
“Liv is almost seventeen,” Thea reminded. “She doesn’t need to be babysateverynight.”
A muscle feathered in Bryce’s jaw. So stubborn. It left Thea sad that she had to work so hard to convince her best friend that she deserved just one night of fun.
“Do I need to sing ‘the Piña Colada Song?’” She poked Bryce lightly in the ribs. “Come on, Bryce.Onenight. It’ll be good for you.”
“Ugh,” Bryce caved, and Thea knew it was only to shut her up.“Fine.”
With a proud grin, Thea tapped the upturned peak of Bryce’s nose, a habit from high school she still refused to break. “Yay! Bryce and Thea’s night on the town. Maybe we could make it into a monthly podcast.”
“No.”Bryce pushed through the door and strutted through the store without a second glance. Thea followed with more than a little excitement whirling in her stomach. She would be happy spending any sort of time with Bryce, but it had been so long since they’d let loose and done something different.
She was going to say as much when a tall figure caught her eye. An unfamiliar man dressed in a long, black trench coat stood at the cash register, talking to Thea’s mother, Nina Curtis. Breath hitching, Thea reached out and pinched Bryce’s elbow to stop her from going any further, and slid behind the nearest row of bookshelves before peeking her head out unnoticed.
The man was pale, grey-haired, with a raspy voice that set Thea’s teeth on edge. From here, she couldn’t make out what they spoke about, but the pile of books in front of him all bore ‘James Patterson’ on their spines, in that ridiculously large font three times larger than their title.Real subtle.
“What are you doing?” hissed Bryce.
As Thea shushed her, she got a subtle waft of Bryce’s coconutty deodorant. “Serial killer vibes,” she whispered, pointing an accusatory finger towards the man.
“Why are you like this?” Bryce tutted and straightened up. “You can’t just go around accusing people of having ‘serial killer vibes’, Thea. I’m going to work.”
“See you tonight, then!” called Thea, stepping nonchalantly away from the shelves she’d been hiding behind as Bryce exchanged goodbyes with Thea’s mother.
“Thea,” Nina summoned her from behind the counter, wearing her best customer service smile as she gestured her daughter over. “Come meet our new neighbor, Mr. Godfrey.”
“Just John is fine.” The scrawny middle-aged man offered his hand, and Thea shook it while trying not to grimace at just how cold and clammy it was.
“It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you. I have a daughter not too much younger than you, actually. She’s away, studying at Whitman, though.”
“Thea applied to Whitman!” Nina felt it necessary to add, as though applying to an esteemed, low acceptance rate college was just as much an accomplishment as actually getting into one. Needless to say, Whitman College had not wanted Thea’s horrifyingly average grades sullying their fancy, private halls, and she’d ended up staying closer to home to study criminology at Washington State, a qualification she had little use for now, though she’d enjoyed the earning of it enough.
Thea didn’twantto pursue any of the traditional careers associated with her field. She wanted to do what she did now, but on a larger scale: document and report on true crime, try to understand why it happened and how, and perhaps even one day write mystery and thriller novels based on her endless hours of research. Her mother was none too happy about wasting a hefty amount of money on her education only for Thea to sit in her basement and record podcasts, but the series was at least taking off and finally reaching people well outside of their dreary little town.
“It’s a lovely place,” nodded John. “I should get going, anyway, but feel free to drop by sometime. I’m just around the corner.”
“I’ll have Thea send over a lasagna!” Nina waved pleasantly, though Thea could not remember agreeing to such a thing. With a resigned sigh, she plucked her apron from under the counter and tied it around her waist in a tight bow before picking up the Stephen King novel she was midway through. It was rarely busy in the mornings, and Thea had plenty of time to kill.
In fact, that was the only thing she ever seemed to do: kill time. She was getting quite bored of it.
* * *
The clattering of the coin-pushing machines spitting out tarnished quarters was giving Bryce a headache. The fact that she was currently suffocating in the Albert the Albatross mascot costume her boss had forced upon her didn’t help. In the musty, ripe-smelling opening of the beak, sweat poured down her face. She could barely see the notes she was supposed to be exchanging for coins for the waiting customer, and with the foam yellow gloves she didn’t even think were anatomically possible for the seabird she was dressed as, sorting it was even more difficult.
Somehow, she managed it.
“Thank you for visiting Albatross Arcades,” she rattled off to the old woman, who’d been frowning at her impatiently the entire time. “I hope you have a squawking good time!”
The costume was supposed to be worn to entertain the kids, so why Bryce had been wearing it since noon on a school day she didn’t know. It wasn’t even supposed to be her turn, but somehow, Peter had wriggled his way out of the responsibility today. Asthma, he’d claimed. Bryce would make sure he had far worse than asthma wrong with him if he made her wear it again this week.
Thankfully, the quick peek she took at her phone behind the counter told her it was almost eight, which meant her shift was due for finishing. She’d need at least three showers to wash away whatever germs were incubating in the polyester. It made her shudder just to think of it.
Brycehatedworking here. She hated how her fingers felt grimy after touching other people’s coins and tokens all day. She hated the constant, high-pitched theme music of the Pac-Man machine, which rang through her head long after her day was done. She hated the smell of processed meat wafting from the hot dog vendor, and the rowdy kids who found tormenting Bryce far more entertaining than the hundreds of games they came in to play. She hated her boss, who never let her take time off work and always kept her past the end of her shift. She hated that when she went home, microwave meals had been set out by her sister because Bryce was too exhausted and late to cook a decent meal for her. But Bryce had applied for dozens of other jobs and had been successful in none. Stone Grange was a dying little town with not much in it save for the shopping street and weekend markets, and the places thatwerehiring wanted qualifications Bryce had never been able to get. She was trapped with no way out, and the day-in-day-out grind was slowly killing her.
“Excuse me, Albert.”