Page 7 of Sac-rifice (RBMC: Cleveland, Ohio Chapter #7)

LEATHER IN THE PET SHOP

COR

M y eyes ran over my reflection, and I pulled at the hem of my shirt, straightening out a wrinkle.

My fingers ran along the flyer sitting on my nightstand, and I huffed, reading it again, ‘Help wanted. Inquire inside.’ Either my luck had changed—which I doubted—or someone was looking out for me.

Seeing as the only person I’d seen regularly was Auntie Rach, I was convinced she shoved the paper underneath my door.

Of course, she denied having anything to do with it, but there was no convincing me that it wasn’t her.

Having no idea what someone wore to a pet store to beg for a job, I went with business casual.

Well, as business casual as I got, which meant I had on a solid blue t-shirt, jeans without holes, and the nicest pair of flip flops I owned.

I hated wearing anything on my feet, so if it wasn’t an absolute requirement to wear shoes, I didn’t.

I despised socks even more than I did shoes.

The annoying seam at the tip of the toe was never where it was supposed to be, and it drove me absolutely insane.

Needless to say, I would wear shoes if I got the job, until then, I was in flip flops.

A muffled ding came from somewhere in the room, and it took a second for my brain to realize what the noise was.

Someone had texted me. I looked down expecting to see my phone, but it wasn’t on the dresser where I thought I put it.

I walked around, picking up discarded clothes and random objects from my floor, growing more frustrated with every piece I grabbed.

I was constantly losing important shit like my phone or keys.

I liked being creative and the ability to think clearly in chaos but hated this part of ADHD.

People thought I lost things due to carelessness or didn’t put things away because I was lazy.

The reality was I cared too much about things, probably more than a lot of people, and was far from lazy.

My brain processed things differently, and, on most days, I didn’t give a shit what other people thought of me.

Screw them! They could all go fly a metal kite in a big ass lightning storm as far as I was concerned.

At least, that was my typical outlook, but somedays, things like this got me down.

Ding.

It was louder this time, so I got on my hands and knees and crawled across the rug on my floor. A little light flickered under the bed, and I rolled my eyes. “How in the hell did you get under here?” I asked, having absolutely no clue when or how my phone ended up where it was.

Ding.

I flipped my phone open, and my head jerked back, reading the text from an unknown number.

Unknown: Need a ride?

I stared at the words, debating whether I should reply or not.

Unknown: It’s about to rain.

Unknown: Answer me

I firmly shook my head. “Not today, Satan! Absolutely not!” I was talking to my phone again. Curiosity was going to eat at me until I figured out who was offering me a ride or until I forgot about it and moved onto something else to wonder about.

Either way, the timing of the texts even if they weren’t intended for me was impeccable.

Did the sender know I was about to head out the door to leave?

No way. No one knew where I was other than my brother, and his number was saved in my contacts under ‘Leather Cult Leader’.

Would my brain take in all of the information and file this away under a simple wrong number and brush it off immediately? Also no.

Everyone had gotten plenty of texts and calls that weren’t intended for them; I was no exception, but I didn’t remember anyone ever being this persistent.

I’d watched enough scary movies to know replying to this person was a colossally bad idea.

I didn’t feel like getting chopped into little pieces and fed to someone’s dog today, or any other day for that matter, so I shoved my phone in my pocket, ignoring the texts altogether.

* * *

As soon as I saw the pet store out of my windshield, I tensed.

It wasn’t the building or the store itself that had caught my attention, but what was parked in front of it.

Two big ass motorcycles took up the parking spots closest to the entrance.

“Freaking leather cult pricks,” I complained, parking to the right of them and glaring.

I was sour, so it might be clouding my judgment, but I really doubted they were in the pet store.

They probably just parked there because they were too self-centered to consider the fact that anyone else might have business here and need one of those spots.

“I hate bikers!” I said grouchily again when I got out of my car and walked past where they were parked.

The bell above the door dinged as I stepped into the pet store with the ‘help wanted’ flyer safely secured between my thumb and pointer finger. I looked up at the bell as I passed beneath it, noticing a cobweb wiggle around as the striker slowed its pace.

“Hello,” a beautiful woman with an accent I couldn’t place pleasantly greeted me. Her gorgeous light blue eyes focused on me while she straightened her back, running her hand through her long blonde hair.

My attention darted around the small pet shop, springing from place to place quickly, stopping a few times when I saw an animal I recognized, making mental notes.

I’d loved all animals big and small for as long as I could remember; so the fact that it took a piece of paper literally being shoved under my door to look for a job that involved caring for them was ridiculous.

I guess I always wanted to be a veterinarian, but college was never something I could consider.

It cost money—a lot of money—and a runaway from foster care didn’t exactly have that kind of change lying around.

“Hi,” I said more slowly than necessary. I needed to pay attention to her but couldn’t pry my eyes off all the creatures surrounding me.

As I knelt down to get on eye-level with the open display to my left, I spoke softly to the tiny ferret, “Hello, little one.” My fingers pressed against the glass, and it smooshed its petite nose against the opposite side trying to get to me. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing?”

“That’s Dottie.” The woman casually walked to where I was and bent over the display, gently running her fingers through the animal’s short fur. “She likes to be held and needs a good home if you’re interested in adopting?” The woman’s eyes lit up, no doubt thinking I might be a potential customer.

“I would love to give her a home, but if I’m being honest, if I don’t find a job soon…

I’ll need someone to adopt me,” I told her the truth.

Great. No one wanted to hire someone who was desperate.

I nervously chewed on the inside of my cheek and awkwardly laughed, grabbing the flyer off the floor.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here. Are you Linda? ”

Her red lips pulled up into a small smile. “I told Ira I should have fixed those.” She waved her hand dismissively. “I’m Lina. It was supposed to say Lina.”

“My mistake.”

“It isn’t. It was mine, but Ira insisted one letter wouldn’t make a difference. It does.” She plucked the flyer from my grasp and eyed it.

“For what it’s worth, you don’t look much like a Linda,” I admitted, falling into a comfortable conversation with her.

“Do you want the job?”

“Uh. Sure?” It came out as a question even though I didn’t mean for it to. Every other place I had tried to get hired always had a long line of questions and at least four forms to fill out before they would let me talk to anyone.

She grabbed a broad-tipped black marker out of the cup on the counter and marked through the misspelled name, writing ‘LINA’ in all capital letters above it.

After returning the marker, she snatched two pieces of tape from the dispenser and taped the sign to the window.

The sun glistened off the silver on one of the motorcycles outside, and an unintentional growl escaped my lips.

“Something wrong?”

“No. Not really. I don’t like bikers is all,” I answered her without hesitation.

“That might be a problem.”

“Huh? Why?” I looked around the shop more closely, searching for any details I might have missed before.

Nothing in here was leather, and the only things remotely close to biker related were the two motorcycles I’d passed on my way into the shop.

I must have gotten it wrong. The bikes did belong in the parking places. “Are you a biker?”

“No. But I’m an ol’ lady to one, and the Bastards saved my life,” she bitterly snapped.

“I really need this job, Lina. I’m just not a fan of them for personal reasons.”

“One month. I’ll give you a thirty-day trial period. If shit goes sideways at any given time, you don’t get the job.”

“Sounds fair,” I agreed a little intimidated by her and how she changed instantly from a sweet lady to a viper ready to strike.

“Good. I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you Monday,” I quickly answered, more than confused by her.

When I stepped out of the shop and onto the sidewalk, the sun glared directly in my face.

Naturally, I squinted my eyes, but the sun was relentless.

I lifted my forearm over my eyes, resting it against my forehead as a shield.

Now, I was able to make out two large figures dressed in black leather sitting on the seats of the motorcycles that had been previously unattended.

I narrowed my eyes, watching them while they straddled their bikes, and soon, both engines rumbled loudly.