Alibi: A Fake Chop Fic

I: Crouch and Hopp [Edited]

You took a deep breath as you read the print in the faded sign. Crouch & Hopp Thrift. The r and the ampersand on the sign had seen better days. If you didn't look close enough, you would've merely thought that the thrift shop had been called Couch Hopp.
A shiver made its way down your spine as you imagined the opportunities that this city, the infamous Los Santos, held in store for you. Although known for having one of the highest crime rates in the country, it was also known for Vinewood, one of the most illustrious film industries in the world.
You did your best to open the door to the run down shop on your first go, but you soon realized that the hinges had almost rusted to the point of being immovable . You had to force the door open with your shoulder, nearly face planting. The tinkling of the bell echoing throughout the dusty shop.
"Been walking long?" A deep voice inquired, humor lacing the edges of his words. You glanced up at the man behind the counter, a smirk gracing his features.
"I'm fine," You blushed, thankful that you hadn't actually fallen, which would have led to even more embarrassment. God knows you didn't need more reasons to hit yourself by the time the day had ended.
   "Oh yeah, that damn door always sticks," The man realized, as he stepped out from behind the register and reached out to shake your hand. Without meaning to, you give him a once-over. He was well-built, you instantly knew that he was a gym rat, short dark hair with a stubble, and he was good deal taller than you. Overall, he was a very intimidating person. Catching yourself staring, you quickly grasped his hand, shaking it.
   "I'm Brett, and I'm assuming you're (Y/N), the new hire," You smiled and nodded, hoping he hadn't noticed your gaze. "Joe told me about you, said you were exactly what we needed," He commented, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jacket.
"It's good to meet you, and I'm not sure what you needed, but I'm glad to be it!" Your voice higher than you would have liked. You would have been lying if you said weren't anxious. You were already hesitant getting a job in such a bad neighborhood, but with a giant like Brett being your boss, you couldn't help but be even more nervous.
He chuckled, and began walking over to the register, where he spent the next fifteen minutes going over how things worked at the shop. Explaining where certain objects went and how to haggle with customers if they ever tried to lower the price of the wares. You took mental notes, not wanting to disappoint Brett, who you learned wasn't as menacing as he appeared.
"You won't be seeing me around much, as I will almost always be busy with other work," His eyes had a strange look in them as he said that last part, but you didn't bother asking what 'other work' was. "You'll mostly see Anna or Joe, who help manage the place," He grinned and patted you on the back.
"Is that it?" You asked surprised at how simple it all seemed. It couldn't be that easy, could it?
   "Oh shit I almost forgot," Your boss cursed, his hand slapping his forehead. "Sometimes our suppliers will stop by and leave messages on when and where we'll receive our next shipment," He gave a small smile.
   You pondered this. "Why don't they just text or email?" Narrowing your eyes slightly, more out of confusion than suspicion, but Brett seemed to believe you felt the latter.
   "Old fashioned geezers," He grunted, slightly irked by your question. "Afraid of technology and whatnot," He added, doing his best to sound a little more positive.
   You decided that you had enough information to do your job correctly. After a few more minutes of small talk Brett gave you a pat on the back.
   "You'll do just fine, kid. If you have any questions I'll be back in my office," He gestured to the door in the corner of the shop. "And remember, the moment you receive a supplier's  letter," He leaned in closer, his expression one of deadly seriousness. "Don't. Fucking. Open. It,"
   The look on your face must have been one of terror, because your employer began to laugh. Your eyes widened and you gave a halfhearted giggle.
   "You should have seen your face," He mocked, doing what you suspected was an imitation. "Okay, I'll leave you be. See you around, kid," And with that, he took long strides to his office, and was gone.
   Your boss was certainly an interesting character, and you weren't quite sure how you felt about that. Doing your best to be a good employee and not question her job, you made your way over to the shelves in the back of the store.
   For your first task as an employee at Crouch & Hopp, you had the pleasure of unpacking two boxes of the latest shipments of wares. Most of which, you discovered, were dusty books that were dated as old as fifty years. A smile graced your features when you paged through the old novels. Maybe this job would be better than you thought.
   You had about emptied the boxes, save for a small clock, which looked as if it had been used for awhile, as the glass over the numbers was scratched slightly, along with the wooden exterior. Tracing your fingers lovingly over the intricate carvings around the sides, you attempted, and failed, to reach the shelf only shelf that would fit the clock. It wasn't that you were particularly short, it was more that the shelf was certainly taller than you. Too distracted to hear the faint ringing of a bell.
   After several minutes of standing on the tips of your toes in an attempt to give the clock a home, you gave up, deciding to ask Brett where a stool was. You turned around, the antique in your arms lovingly (as you had grown fond of the small time piece), you stifled a scream as you came face to face with a stranger.
   "Oh shit, didn't mean to scare you." His eyes widened, and you guessed he had not expected you to turn around. He ruffled his blonde hair, which you realized was definitely not his natural color. "I was comin' in to see Brett and I saw you trying so hard to reach that shelf, and frankly," He rubbed his arms awkwardly. "You looked kinda adorable and I was gonna ask if you needed some help," He reached for the clock.
   At a loss for words, you decided you'd rather not bother your boss on the first day and gave the man the dusty clock. He stepped around you and lovingly set the antique down. While he had been doing that, you couldn't help but stare at the ink that covered his arms.
   "You're going to regret those when you're older, you know," You commented absentmindedly, tracing the artwork mentally. Your eyes widened when you realized what you had said.
   "Thanks Mom," He chuckled, turning around and leaning against the shelf, his gaze meeting yours. "But I think I'd need to live long enough to get wrinkles to regret them," He smirked.
   You gave a sharp intake of breath. What did he mean? Was he sick? Did you just remind a dying person that they wouldn't live to be elderly? Almost as if he read your mind, the blonde boy stepped closer and stuck out his hand to shake.
   "I swear I'm not dying," He laughed, and you put your hand in his. You could feel his callouses rub against your finger tips as he pulled away. "I really don't think about what I say sometimes, the name's-"
   "ALEKS!" Brett's voice thundered across the shop, and the stranger, who you now knew was named Aleks, froze like a deer in headlights.
"Yeah, that," He said under his breath, his cheeks flushed. You began to wonder how well he knew your boss, and if there was a reason to be terrified right now.
   "Stop distracting my employee! She doesn't need your smart ass comments while she's working," Although he sounded furious, he looked only irritated. Almost in a fatherly way.
   Aleks gave you a mischievous smile before heading into Brett's office, leaving you confused and slightly amused. You couldn't help but wonder if every day was going to be like this.