Page 24 of The Toy Maker

There wasn’t a couch in sight, but it didn’t matter. The day had been fun, but I didn’t have time for fun. “I can’t stay. I have to make a phone call,” I mumbled.

“At two in the morning?”

No.“Maybe.”

He sighed, “As much as I would like for you to leave, it’s too late for you to be wandering around by yourself.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he continued before I could, “You’re drunk, and it’s late. Take the cot.”

I nodded in defeat. “Where will you sleep?”

“There are rooms back there.” He pointed beside one of the many shelves lining the wall. On the other side, I could see the start of a hallway. I wondered just how big this building actually was.

After a few minutes of me silently fumbling with the clasps on the shoes Sarah let me borrow, Jason joined the campaign to free me of them. His fingers brushed against my heel as he took off the shoes and put them on the floor.

“Thanks.” The contact sent shivers throughout my body.It’s the alcohol, I tried to assure myself.He leaned in to lift the covers over me and met my gaze; his blue eyes dazzled under the light. I paused, then said quietly, “Weren’t your eyes green before?”

“Contacts,” he said, picking up one of the pillows beside me and the spare blanket at my feet.

“Contacts now or contacts then?” I tilted my head.

He switched off the light and walked to the door. “Goodnight, Tara.”

“What?” I yelled drunkenly. “Tell me what color your eyes are.”

The sound of the door shutting was his only response. I sank down into the covers and tried to ignore the cologne weaved into every fiber of the bed. It smelled warm, like cinnamon, and was strong, almost overpowering, but it faded as I settled in. At the first sign of sunlight, I was going to sneak out the back window.

I only needed to stay awake for a few more hours.

Except I didn’t give the cot enough credit.

ELEVEN

I wokeup with my hair stuck to the remnants of my lip gloss from the night before. Long-lasting didn’t begin to cover the sticky coating of shimmer over my mouth.

“Oh, fuck me,” I hissed while trying to sit up.

The cot squeaked underneath my weight as I realized what room I sat in. Shards of the night before trickled back to me, making sure to pierce my skull as they went in. A headache had formed behind my eyes, punishing me for daring to enjoy my night out.

I buried my face in the blanket in an attempt to block out the morning light. The sun was too happy, whereas I wanted to die.

Instead of sweet silence, hammering started seconds after I decided to drift into a temporary coma. I peeled my eyes open and glared at the man repairing the window frame. The one I’d managed to crack on the mission for my personal belongings. Breaking in was bad enough, but damaging the store filled me with a new sense of dread.

I swallowed the taste of mixed cocktails and groggily lifted my head from the pillow. “Why?” I wailed.

The man holding the instrument of my torture turned to look at my lifeless body. The blankets swaddled me and my many regrets with warmth.

He briefly stopped the assault on my ears. “Rough night?” he chuckled.

I hoped my groan would be response enough. Diving into the gruesome details would only make the headache behind my eyes stronger. “Can the banging wait a while?” I pleaded.

He shrugged. “Sorry, Jason wants this done by lunch.”

Of course.“What a bastard.” My eyes narrowed.

The man laughed, “He’s actually alright when you get to know him.”

I made a mental note to revisit his statement when I couldn’t smell colors. My stomach protested as I fumbled out of the cot. I made a silent wish for my grandmother’s life alert button when my feet hit the icy floor.

Shoes, where are my shoes?