Straighter than Parallel Parking

≈ t h i r t y - o n e ≈

{ Chapter Thirty-One: Your Honey is Back! }

EARS STILL RED FROM THE WIND OUTSIDE, JAMES blows on his cold fingers before pulling on the doorknob from the door that let him into the back of his store. Pulling his light windbreaker closer to his body, he kicks back the door with the heel of his foot.

"Brielle!" he calls out after he puts his stuff away. "I'm back!"

Brielle's signature brown ponytail almost whips him in the face when she turns the corner, boxes in her hands. "Do I look like your honey? I heard you come in."

James takes one of the boxes from her hands, shifting his weight. "I'd be upset about the lack of affection but I'm just too glad to get out of a small room to care."

"I wouldn't have given you a hug either," huffs Brielle, "my hands are just a little full doing all the work you slacked over into me. I'm three years your senior but that doesn't mean I like having to fill in your position. Unlike you, I actually have a life."

Moving into the inventory room, James stacks the shipments onto the metal rack. Brielle eagerly lets him take them, rubbing her elbows and whistling. "If I didn't think of you as my younger brother, I'd be awed by your lack of biceps."

James shot a look over his shoulder. "Can you not see this definition?" James flexes his forearms. "I pick up boxes, like, every—"

"—two weeks when the inspector comes in to see whether you're still competent enough to work," coughs Brielle. "Though you're pretty famous with the sugar momma's that come here."

"I'll have you know that I'm a pretty wanted man," protests James. Twirling the keys around his ring finger, he scratches the back of his neck. "And unlike what Janice says, not just for parking tickets."

Laughing, they exit the room to open up the store. Albeit having no windows directly inside the store, the morning sky was apparent from the glow outside the entrance. While the interior of Victoria's Secret is dark and night club-like, to attract the appeal of the young adults that walked in, the light streaming in from the doors set aglow the mirrors and golden beams strung across the walls.

"I missed this place," James says, hugging a mannequin.

Brielle swats his head. "Don't touch the merchandise. That's more expensive than your paycheque."

James grins. "I'd make a joke about my merchandise if I wasn't so sure you'd probably ruin what little I'd have if I did." He turns around when he hears the familiar pattering of heels. "Renée! My favourite girl!"

Brielle throws a coupon box at him before heading over to meet a customer.

Renée grins, her sun-kissed skin glittering under the green light overhead. Her bright pink apron wrapped around her midsection and black jeans only accented her skin tone. "Favourite girl? Never thought I'd live to see the day."

"You've always been the one for me," James teases, giving Renée a quick hug.

"Too bad you're not as feminine as you act," quips Renée, returning the hug. Her black afro softly brushed his cheeks. "We could have really hit it off."

James smirks. "Please. The only reason you talk to me is  because I give you all the girls' numbers I get."

"Don't be so cocky," Renée says, "because half of them don't realize it's this sexy girl here when they pick up."

Throwing an arm around her shoulders, James says, "Woe to them. Now, show me the sales data. I've been on my feet all week and I'm going to go sit down in the office. I think my skin's chapping from this wind."