Page 33 of Hale

“And we got these in yesterday,” Amy chirps as she shows me some new candles.

I don’t fucking care about candles, but I force a smile anyway.

“Nice.”

A customer asks Amy a question about the candles and she starts animatedly telling them all about them. I sneak away on a hunt for Rylie. She leans against a wall staring at the ground, looking sorely out of place. My eyes rake over her appearance and I wonder when she grew up. She’s wearing a navy-blue floral print dress, a denim jacket, and cowgirl boots. It looks like something Aunt Becky bought for her and I’m happy she’s at least trying to make our aunt happy.

Her hair has been twisted into a messy bun and tendrils frame her face. She took the time to put on some mascara and lipstick, but the red on her cheeks is natural from the sun. It strikes me that she’s really pretty. Too pretty.

Jerking my head around, I wonder if others see it too. A guy close to her age standing with another guy keeps flickering his eyes over to her. A surge of annoyance rises up inside of me.

“Let’s take a walk. She’s going to be here for a while,” I say to Rylie.

She lifts her gaze and regards me with a warm smile. “I’d like to get out of here.”

Side by side, we walk past the boy with the wandering eyes and I glower at him until he looks away. Once outside in the warm evening air, I sling my arm over Rylie’s shoulder and walk her along the sidewalk. She leans into me as we walk, her arm hugging me at my waist.

“Chocolate?” I ask, pointing at the chocolatier store.

“How about Dizzy Dunlap’s?”

The store sticks out like a sore thumb. A strobe light flickers from inside the window. The scent of incense is strong as we walk through the doorway. The place is crowded and dark and loud. A Jimi Hendrix song plays on the speakers.

“This place is insane,” I say, leaning into her ear.

She looks at me and grins, the black light making her teeth look whiter and her skin darker. Her hand wraps around mine and she drags me deeper into the store. I let her guide me until we’re in a room that has people sitting on couches and mismatched chairs. Just as a couple vacates an oversized chair, we steal it. I fall into the chair and she sits on the arm. In the dark corner of the room, I let my gaze roam up her tanned-looking thigh. She props her ankles up on the other arm so her legs are stretched across me.

“What do you want for your birthday next month?” I ask, having to yell over the loud music.

“A tattoo.”

I raise my brows. “A tattoo? Where?”

“Here,” she says and runs her finger along her ribs.

“Mom would shit.”

She shrugs. “Mom isn’t here.”

We’re both quiet for a moment.

“I’ll take you. It can be my present to you,” I tell her, my voice gruff.

She leans forward and hugs my neck. “Thanks, bro.”

When she pulls away, my eyes once again travel to her slender legs. I slide my knuckle along the underside of her calf. The hairs on her leg are prickly.

“You forgot to shave,” I tease.

Her smile falls and she stares at me as though I’ve struck her. “You don’t have to be an asshole.” She starts to get up, but I grip her wrist just as she’s standing.

“What’s wrong?”

Her bright white eyes under the black light shimmer with tears. “I can’t shave.”

“Why not?”

“Because Aunt Becky won’t let me!”