TIME: Late graveyard shift
LOCATION: Shay-D-Mart

At first, I suspected my very unusual and very attractive customers were shoplifters because they acted so sketchy. They wandered silently around the aisles, picking things up, putting them down. They’d catch my gaze in the corner mirrors to see if I was watching them. Which I was. Obviously.

I stayed behind the counter but took full advantage of the security mirrors in the corners to watch. I let them do their “shopping” even though it was obvious they weren’t really shopping. They were waiting for something. Or someone. Barry?

Had he expected these guys? Maybe that’s why he was so off. But what kind of business could they have with my boss? How are they connected? I can’t see the common thread.

Maybe that’s my problem—why I haven’t cracked what’s going on in Rivershade. I’m basing too much on appearance. Embarrassing. Business is about money, not looks. Barry will do business with anyone if he can make a buck. His family is famously rich even if they don’t live the high-life on the hill with old-money elite. Not sure if that’s Barry’s choice or because they make so much more that his wealth barely registers.

So then why didn’t Barry wait? Of course he didn’t tell me anything. I’m his trusty, but very lowly employee.

Eventually, the pair rolled up to the cash register to pay for their purchases.

I knew these men were gorgeous, but there was no way to prepare for the full charm offensive from the blond guy.

Seeing him up close, his attractiveness turned into something overwhelming, almost otherworldly. His skin was so perfect, it was like a walking photo filter. I can’t recall seeing a single pore. He must have an amazing skin routine and I’m jealous. His cheekbones and glass-cut jawbone were made for magazine covers. The only visible, and debatable, flaw was the aquiline nose. It saved him from being too pretty. If anything, it made him more compelling.

His eyes were that icy blue color that can be killer cold, but they were in full mischief twinkle mode when we made eye contact. He had the self-deprecating smile that wasn’t really self-deprecating. Like he knows he’s handsome enough to intimidate but he’s sorry-not-sorry about it. A humble brag smile if there’s such a thing. He was obviously used to charming people.

It all put me on guard. The full force of his charisma didn’t feel like the natural kind like with Kes. It reminded me of Kim’s energy.

Kim might aspire to equal Kes’s charisma, but she doesn’t have the sincerity for it. But this blond man with his Olympic-level fake charisma is like looking at a future Kim. Not sure what is setting off alarms. Everything about him is too perfect to be real. Maybe working with Kim and her proto-level efforts have attuned me to the frequency of fake. 

I looked past him to the dark-haired guy behind him. He was staring at the ceiling, pretending he was anywhere else but here. He obviously felt my attention on him because he met my gaze.

I tried a smile.

I got nothing back.

It must have looked awkward. It felt awkward. Okaaay.

The blond guy…

Okay. I can’t just keep calling them dark-haired guy and blond guy. I’m going to call them Smoulder and Charming.

Charming seemed to not like my attention on his friend. He leaned one elbow onto the counter and slid in front of me, blocking the view of Smoulder.

Weird move.

Not knowing what to say, I raised my eyebrows and hoped he’d fill in the blanks.

He smirked and placed a bottle of the Eternal Springs Water of Youth (seriously people, it’s tap water!) on the counter. I scanned the bottle. The machine beeped.

“Anything else?” I asked, completely calm and blush free. I hope. I’ve been working on my customer-service neutral face. I consider it a masterpiece of pleasant non-confrontation. It serves me well on the graveyard shift and keeps conversation at a minimum.

Charming cast an amused looked over his shoulder at his buddy. Smoulder stepped forward and put down a basket full of candy, chips and six bottles of Rivershade Full Moon IPA on the counter. A feast of junk food.

I don’t judge my customers. But I admit, I was jealous. The idea of kicking back, drinking good beer, and eating chips while zoning out on videos is beyond my budget. Fiona loves that for me because according to her, my butt grows bigger just by looking at them.

Then he noticed the caramel pecan brownie and picked it up.

My heart sank.

“Are these good?” he asked.

I loved the accent in his voice—Eastern European of some kind? It suited his deep voice.

I hesitated. I’ve never wanted to lie so badly. I looked him straight in the eye, ready to say, “nope.” But when I looked into his eyes, I saw this bleak, dark energy. I see that sometimes when I look in the mirror before going to work. Maybe he needed that soul-healing brownie more than me.

He put it back, giving me a slight smile. “I think I have enough sweets.”

I almost gave the game away by sighing with relief.

Charming picked up the brownie. “Looks good,” he said.

Before my heart had a chance to sink again. Smoulder smacked it out of his hand. “We have enough. Pay her.”

Charming rolled his eyes and turned to look at me. Then he looked around the store, and back at me like he suddenly noticed that I’m alone. As if he hadn’t already cased the store. Then he gives me a slow smile I couldn’t read. If he was trying to charm me, he missed the mark. It didn’t feel like a threat exactly. But it was off.

While I never worry about my safety here, once in a while a guy will try and mess with me. Customer-service neutral usually makes them give up so I’ve never felt scared. But today, that intimidation almost worked.

“Anything else?” I ask. I keep the tone bored. Not sure if he qualifies, but never show a predator you’re scared. “Need a bag?”

The surprise on his face because I wasn’t fawning all over him made me want to laugh.

Smoulder stepped forward and used the excuse of picking up a key chain to use his body to block out Charming. He held the key chain at different angles before he gave up and finally asked, “What’s this?”

“That is Rivershade’s very own Squirrelman.” I said this with a bit of pride. It’s my favorite local legend. And not just because it’s on land instead of the water.

He squinted at it like it might turn into something else. “Squirrel?”

No one disrespects the Squirrelman legend on my watch. Even if I’m not a believer, outsiders don’t disrespect Squirrelman on my watch. Plus, Smoulder is giving me a gambit to shift Charming’s weird energy and I’m taking it.

I put my hand on my hips and gave him a serious stare. “It’s our local legend. Our very own cryptid. Supposedly, it looks like a squirrel, is about waist high, and walks on hind legs like a human. It opens the garbage cans and carries off bird feeders. Others say that if you spot it sitting in a tree staring at you, it means you’re going to die.”

He furrowed his brows and examined the key fob again.

Charming burrowed past Smoulder and leaned on the counter so that he took up equal space with his companion.

“You don’t believe in it, do you?” Charming asked. 

I narrowed my eyes and studied him. Was he testing my local knowledge or my woo-woo belief factor?

But…

Charming found the chink in my armor. And I wouldn’t mind if Smoulder stuck around.

I never get to talk to people about my investigations. The fam, particularly Fiona, thinks it’s malarky. They tolerate me if I don’t go on too long. Kim mocks me. Simon teases me a bit, which I allow since I want help with the security cam footage. 

I nodded in agreement. “I don’t. I think someone has master-level puppet skills or a remote control. Likely, it’s a large racoon with mange, though some people think it’s a northern version of a chupacabra.

Charming gave me a sly grin. “Not someone in a squirrel suit?”

I gave him a hard stare. “No.”

The question was alarming. It’s like he could see in my head.

I already tested out that hypothesis and I will never tell a soul. I tried climbing a tree in a squirrel suit. It’s impossible to get a grip with the fuzzy costume and mitts. Result? I fell out of the tree, bruised ribs, twisted my ankle and fractured my arm. Plus, I got dragged to the eye doctor since I lied to Fiona about tripping over a tree root.

Charming picked up the brushed brass, mermaid-shaped Rivershade Siren key chain, examined it, then put it down with a grimace. Had to give him credit for taste.

He picked up my favorite key fob. He shook it and it glowed. “What’s this?” His voice was slow, instantly mesmerized by the light.

Smoulder grabbed it from him and read the words embossed on the cylinder. “Rivershade Marsh Lights.”

Then he, too, became captivated by the light. Were they on something? Munchies and now this fascination with some glow-in-the-dark stuff?

I cleared my voice. “This one is surprisingly controversial—if you believe the myths of fairies living out in the marsh. Since I don’t believe in pixie dust, let’s hope it’s not something toxic that causes the glow.”

I fished my own key fob out of my jacket pocket and shook it. “They’re super practical. If you shake it hard enough, it emits about ten seconds of bright light before it fades. It’s enough to read something or fit your key into a lock. No idea about how long the stuff lasts. I’ve had mine for four years, but I don’t shake it every day to test it.”

Charming then reached for one of the Liquid Elixir charm fobs and held it up to me, asking for an explanation.

I could feel the sardonic twist to my face when I went through the sales spiel. “Get your own personal bottle of Rivershade’s very own fountain of youth. Determine your personality by choosing the herbal infusion.” 

He examined the potion-bottle-shaped charm and discovered you can’t open it. “You can’t drink it,” he protested.

I couldn’t help when my brows furrowed in surprise. I try not to judge customers but come on! Why would you want to? “I’m pretty sure it’s just PR marketing. Maybe a metaphor. But it’s not magical. No elixir of youth.”

“You seem to know a lot about the local legends,” Charming said.

I shrugged. “Helps to sell things to the tourists.”

It felt smart to keep my research projects to myself. I enjoyed the chance to talk about local legends, but wasn’t ready to share that much.

Charming rubbed his hands together. “Perfect! We’re looking for a guide. We’re interested in finding out more about the local legends here.”

Was not expecting that. Neither was Smoulder, judging by the surprise on his face. 

I glanced outside, making the point that it was dark as pitch outside. Who asks a woman alone at night to be their tour guide?

“What are you, paranormal hunters? Got your own channel?” They were handsome enough to get a good following even if their work was horrible. But I didn’t want competition. Suddenly I was glad I hadn’t mentioned my research.

“Channel?” Charming asks.

“She means v-tubing,” Smoulder edged out Charming again.

“We’re folklorists,” Smoulder said with a reassuring smile, but it looked forced. 100% sympathy from me. He obviously picked up on my discomfort.

“Folklorist.” I can’t help the disbelief in my voice. “I thought you were here to see Barry.”

They looked at each other, then at me. “Who’s Barry?” Charming asked.

My gaze moved from Smoulder to Charming and back. I resumed my resting customer service face. The conversation had been kind of fun up until this point. Then Charming had to go and make it weird.

I forced my body not to tense. It’s better not to look scared in front of predators. My hand slid below the counter to reassure myself that the bat was there. Two against one doesn’t scare me as much as the fact that I’m not a fighter. Me against one is horrible odds. I only had to do it once and the second I waved the bat, the guy took off running. I had an adrenaline hangover for hours. And vomited twice.

These guys don’t look like runners.

Best to talk my way out of it.

 I forced a chuckle and rueful smile. “I’m not going to just walk through the forests around here with two strange guys who roll up to the Shay-D-Mart in the middle of the night.”

The door chimed as customers come in. The full moon party must have broken up and some party stragglers are looking for hydration. I didn’t spare a glance for the new customers, but I felt a bit better with more people present.

“We’ll pay you for your help,” Charming said, as if that solved everything.

“Pay her for what?” a particularly irritating and familiar voice came from behind them.

The two men turned to see the person behind them, but I already knew who it was.

Bohdie knows that voice.
Is it backup… or trouble?
Find out in the next episode

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