Roan stood at the edge of the building, her back turned to me. "You are so childish and disgusting." I ignored her for the third time, knocking on the window. I hear someone moving within, it must be a someone we don't have bears in the city. "He's probabaly not even there." I have a sixth sense when it comes to this guy, I know it's him. I can feel it.
"Oh, he's in there alright." I say in a husky tone as I remember just how much this old man agrivates me. The front door is boarded up, so I skulk around the alley's side door. In the back of the dark building I get a glimpse of what looks like an scary, old eighteen-nineties, prospector- type bearded man hiding in the back. Creepy trench coat, old white Nikes, bushy, greasy beard, that's enough proof for me. There cannot be many other homeless men holed up in that resturant who happen to look like they struck hard times after the gold mines ran dry. I, in one of my less refined moments, start pissing on Louis's door and reciting a poem by Emily Dickinson.
"Tell all the truth but tell it slant-. Success in circut lies. Too bright for our infim delight. The truth's superb surprise. As lightening to the children eased. With explination kind. The truth must dazzle gradually. Or every man be blind-" I knocked on the door, above where I stand besmirching it. "That's a poem by Emily-" BANG! An angry fist hits the door. I jump with a yelp, zip my pants, booking it away from the alley. Now I am truly certain that it is Louis. Roan is nearly on the ground laughing joyously at the edge of the alley. "You didn't see that did you?" I feel my ears and cheeks turn red in embarrassment.
"Yes I did." She catterwhauls, holding her stomach.
"EW. You were watching me pee?"
"Only long enough to see you jump and yelp like a puppy. Don't worry I didn't se anything." I make a face, not knowing know how to feel about that statement. "Are you done yet?"
"Almost." I turned back to the building and kicked a rock with my foot, sending him flying into the metal door with a loud impact. The metal surfaced explodes with the sound of Louis pounding the door and telling me to go to hell or simple to die. "Emily frickin Dickinson!" We both take a few causious steps backwards, fearing how he would retaliate.
"Good aim." She says without looking away from the wet, dented door." I mumble a thank you before we turn away. We haven't seen any signs of danger since leaving the alley. Roan takes the whistle around her neck, blowing two long notes, the all clear signal. Aidan returns with the same signal from a few blocks away. I wait for Roan at the cross walk and we walk briskly to the discount grocery store on Chestnut Street. The store has stood there as long as anyone can remember, a small, cramped building, crammed between a used bookstore and a cash for gold exchange that has a "No questions asked" policy. The wooden, neon yellow sign read "UALITY DISCOUNT GROCERY." The giant red letters were in good condition except for the missing Q in quality. The cheap sign begged for attention, and unfortunately for the owner, it was about to recieve some. Roan and I enter through the sticker-coated glass door and walk past the clerk. He is a sweaty, balding man in his late forties. She slips her hand in mine as we pass him, my stomach does an unwarranted backflip and a chill runs up my arm. Nervously, I bite my lip as the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I felt so nervous. Unsure of what else to do I whisper to her.
"Maybe we shouldn't hold hands." She looked at me with confusion.
"Why not." She says once we are safely inside the cereal isle.
"Uh, I dunno.'' I really didn't. I only know two things; One, I need to focus and I can't with her touching me. Two, for the first time in at least a decade I don't have to make myself tolerate human contact. In fact, I hated letting go of her hand and feeling my own drop to the side of my leg. I try to force whatever just happneded out of my head and focus. I put my hood up, tucking the longer parts of my hair behing my ears. The last thing I need is that man looking up and remembering my bright orange hair if we get caught. Man it's to hot for a sweatshirt, I think to myself. We do our usual gag. Roan talks to a woman with a nose ring as I slip packs of plain beef jerky in between the waistband of my jeans and my belt, pulling my sweatshirt over it.
YOU ARE READING
Shoplifter: E.O.W Series, Book 1
ActionGuns, gangs, thieves, junkyards. This life isn't what Kaius had in mind when he left behind his small town home. He finds himself living in an abandoned factory on the edge of Philadelphia with a gang of lovable yet reclusive miscreants. These trai...
