Page 25 of The Toy Maker

The man hesitated before returning to work. “You need any hel?—”

I raised a hand to silence him. Noises felt like nails scraping down a chalkboard. I shuffled out of the room with a teaspoon of patience and my pumps hanging off my limp fingers. The pounding in my skull gave me flashbacks to my mom banging a pot with a wooden spoon to wake me up on Saturday mornings.

The showroom floor was silent; only a handful of employees went about stocking shelves and checking their Instagrams. My tangled hair barely clung to the hairstyle I left the house with before going to the bar with the girls.

I noticed Jason at the front desk. He was emptying the cash register and placing the money in a pouch. In Kitty’s absence, he must have to take over her responsibilities.

“Good morning,” his soft voice echoed in my ears.

I groaned, my hangover still making my head pound. “Morning.”

The glimmer of mischief in his eyes told me that he enjoyed my weakened state. “I’m sorry. Are you feeling a bit under the weather?” His faux sympathy coincided with the logbook slamming against the counter.

I recoiled, and a news header appeared in my head in big red leaders:“Hotshot Toy Maker Found Dead with Dildo Stuffed Up His B?—”

Jason brushed off my obvious annoyance, “I assume you slept well.”

I winced. “There was hammering.”

His lips curled into a smirk. “I’m sorry about that. There was a break-in last night, and I didn’t want to delay the repairs.”

“Oh, fuck you,” I gritted out, fighting the urge to mention where he could shove his apology.

“Can’t do that,” he laughed, “I’m the boss, remember?”

Heat rushed to my cheeks as I remembered drunkenly collapsing into his bed and declaring him untouchable based on a job description.

He chuckled, “I would be getting ready for rehearsal if I were you.”

“I’m not rehearsing today.” I could barely walk without spilling my guts; dancing would be a massacre.

“I think you are.” His brown eyes twinkled with enthusiasm.

I shook my head and dragged myself to the dressing room, wondering if I could use Jade’s fabric scraps to create a Voodoo doll.

Hours wentby before any of the other girls started showing up. My makeshift sofa cushion bed made me dream of my plush mattress at home. By the time Kitty and the crew arrived, practice was about to start.

Jade curled into the fetal position in front of her vanity while Sarah tucked her arms inside her shirt, shuddering from her headache. They looked almost as good as I did.

“It’s about time,” I said, embodying the misery that loved company.

They greeted me with whimpers and swearing, just as sick as I was.

Kitty bounded up from behind me and clapped. “Y’all ready to nail the routine?” Sarah and Jade shot her a withering glare. “I think we should try adding jazz hands today.” She beamed.

“I’ll give you a jazzfinger,” Jade said as she dragged herself out of the chair.

“That’s the spirit.” Kitty was surprisingly energetic for someone who puked wine all over her white carpet the night before.

We clambered on stage with seconds to spare. Due to our unenthusiastic attitudes, Kitty took pity on us and didn’t turn on the usual stripper music. Instead, we practiced the dance in silence with only Kitty’s commands filling the room.

Halfway through practice, Jason walked out of his workshop and watched our trainwreck. My body ached with each sidestep and jazzy flare. Breaking into his workshop wasn’t my finest moment, but he wasn’t a stand-up citizen either.

I kept a watchful eye on Jason, forcing myself to pretend like my will to live wasn’t disintegrating every moment I remained on the stage. He was up to something, or at the very least, taking more of an interest in practice than before.

My stomach swirled, wondering if I had anything to do with that. I cursed myself for wanting to have something to do with it after waking up with the scent of cinnamon lingering in my hair. I turned to spin with the other Cherries, and when I caught sight of Jason again, he had the remote to the speakers in his hand.

When he lifted the remote up, I nearly swan dived off the stage to tackle him.