Alibi: A Fake Chop Fic

II: The Letter

The first two weeks at Crouch & Hopp seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and you had to say that your life was certainly more interesting than it had been. Along with showing you the ropes to the place, Anna, who was a fellow employee, quickly became your first friend since moving to Los Santos.
   Anna had taught you about the history of the dingy thrift, and you had been fascinated. Back during Prohibition two men by the names of William Crouch and Richard Hopp owned a small club that sold liquor under the table. Crouch & Hopp had been one of the more popular speakeasies in the city, and it was a well known fact that the two owners rose to the top of the food chain by selling more than just alcohol.
When you asked Brett about this however, he merely shrugged and muttered something about not giving a damn about history. Joe, on the other hand, was just as intrigued as you had been.
   Joe was the only other employee besides Anna who worked along side you. He always had a goofy smile on his face and always seemed genuinely interested in what people had to say, so your lunch breaks were almost always spent with your coworkers.
The three of you formed a golden trio of sorts: Anna didn't talk much unless she knew something someone else didn't, Joe almost never stopped talking, and you were somewhere in between. Joe and Anna seemed to have known about each other for a while, and you often found yourself wondering how long they had been working together.
   Today you were stuck managing the shop alone. Anna had come down with something nasty, as she had called you that morning to explain why she wouldn't show up. Although she sounded fine, maybe a little tired, you decided not to read into it. Joe, on the other hand, had explained to you over text that he had been caught up with his second job. Assuring you that you would be fine by yourself and that Brett had already been informed.
   To say you were anxious would be an understatement, because you had never worked the store by yourself before today. Even though you had been by yourself in your first day, Anna arrived an hour after you had and took care of the customers. You'd be on your own today, or at least until Brett came back later.
Your shifts weren't too bad, ten to six Monday through Wednesday and twelve to eight on Thursdays and Fridays. You ha Sven thankful that your job was one that allowed you to sleep in and had generous breaks sprinkled throughout the day. Brett was a good boss, a scary and foul mouthed boss, but a good one.
Today was a Monday, which meant that it would be a slow morning. A good percentage of the shop's customers were either above the age of fifty who didn't seem to get out much or shady looking strangers who are more interested in hiding behind the shelves than shopping. Although the latter did make you feel uneasy, you knew you usually had at someone else in the store.
   Your anxieties were interrupted by the ringing of the store's bell, which was probably the newest item in the shop. In came a man you could only describe as tired. Shifty eyes and the posture to match, he seemed like trouble.
You had noted the lack of a panic button of any kind under the counter, and you wondered if anything in this place was worth stealing anyways. Too busy concerning yourself over possible robbery scenarios, you didn't notice how close the man had gotten until he slammed down an envelope by the register.
"Where's the other one?" He growled, eyeing the store suspiciously, as if someone was going to jump out from behind the shelves.
Confused and slightly concerned, you asked him what he meant.
"The other gal that works here," He rolled his eyes and pulled the ball cap on his head lower. There was a pause, both of you glaring at each other, although you wouldn't consider a slightly fearful look a glare. He sighed.
"Fine, where's Brett?" He asked slowly, his tone condescending.
"He's busy and Anna's sick. It's just me today," You replied, doing your best to be civil. "What do you need?"
The stranger grunted and muttered something under his breath and you crossed your arms. Sliding the envelope towards you he began to walk away. Something about this encounter didn't sit right with you, and you wondered if this was really just about a shipment of antiques.
"What's in here? I mean, what's really in here?" The question left your mouth before you could process it.
He paused.
"I like Hannah better, minds her own business," And with that he was gone.
   You weren't sure how long you watched the motionless letter. Deep down you knew to just leave it be until Brett came back, but the curiosity wouldn't go away.
   The next few hours were quiet, only a few customers, so you spent your time dusting, texting, and reorganizing. You had momentarily forgotten the letter on the counter, until your friends stopped answering your texts and the chores had been done.
   The package seemed to burn in your fingers when you picked it up. You could lose your job for this and that was the only reason you hesitated to rip the wrapping to shreds. Just as you slipped a finger under flap, but just as you were about to reveal the secrets it held, a bell rang.
   Your knees buckled and you almost collapsed out of fright. You mentally chastised yourself for being such a wimp, but when you saw who had opened the door you realized you had a right to be scared.
   "Glad to see the place didn't burn down when I was gone," Brett smiled warmly as he looked around the interior of Crouch & Hopp. His friendly demeanor changed when he saw what was in your hands. You were so fucked.
   "I see that we had a supplier stop by," He commented flatly. "Who was it?"
   Caught off guard, you stuttered out a brief description of the client from before. Your boss nodded along, and held out his hand. Instantly you knew what he wanted.
   Without hesitation, he opened the envelope and read its contents. Shoving the letter in his pocket, his eyes met yours. You didn't like the look in them.
   "Curiosity killed the cat," He quoted, holding your gaze for an uncomfortable amount of time before entering his office and slamming the door.
   To say you were frightened would be an understatement.