Ghostwriter

Chapter 7

"You ok? You seem, uh, off."

I stare up at Red Robin as I pack his caffeine drinks for him. Is it that obvious? I mean, Momma J pep-talked me up to the point where I can function again, so here I am, at work on Saturday, but I'm still at a loss.

Piggly's lights scold my eyes, and the uniform's collar scratches my neck. The apron's too tight around my waist. I'm tired. "I'm fine."

"I was trained by Batman. I know when's someone's not fine, and I know when it's not just a bad day. I'm also the king of not getting enough sleep, so don't pull that one either." He scratches the back of his neck. I stuff the energy drinks to a Piggly's plastic bag.

When I don't reply, he continues, "Look, I like to consider us friends. You're a sane person in Gotham, who also doesn't happen to be a crazed fangirl or wearing a cape. I don't see your type too often," that earns a laugh from me, "And it's my duty as Red Robin to help people anyway. So..."

"It's nothing much. Just bills. Stress. That kinda thing." Half-truth. I hand him his goods, which he takes, but he doesn't walk away. Instead, he sets his bag on the floor and leans forward over the counter.

"Is Colton ok?"

"He's fine." I take a step back.

"Are you in trouble?"

"No." Since when did he ask so many questions?

"Trained by Batman, Antigone." The white slits in his cowl where his eyes are don't blink.

"Maybe." I relent.

"With the law?" That's almost funny.

"No."

"With a gang?" Almost there, detective, but not quite.

"No. And do we really have to do this right here?"

"You're scared." It's a fact, not a question. He picks up his bag. "I can meet you later. We can talk somewhere more private, and that way you don't have to worry about your boss asking questions or yelling at you for talking to me too long," His lips quirk up, "or the security cameras. Your shift ends at what, 9:00?"

I nod.

"I'll pick you up. We can talk then." His bag sways with each step away that he takes from me. Red Robin pauses at the door. "Also, word of advice. Leaving your shift early would only peak my interest."

Dang it.

Red Robin leaves, the door clicking shut behind him. There's a smirk in his step and an arrogant swish in his cape. My shoulders drop. He's never gone detective mode on me before. It's always been casual. I've never asked about his nightly expenditures.

I guess I just like to put him in a box and think of him as the friendly kid in the cape who likes coffee too much. I didn't even know that he cared. He deals with so many big, life-threatening things, it's honestly a wonder that he takes the time to notice that something's wrong with his grocery bagger and then do something about it.

A warm feeling touches my chest. Red Robin's a hero who notices and cares about the small people. For the first time in a while, Gotham's large-scale crime situation, at least, doesn't seem so hopeless.

That doesn't change my situation, but whatever. It may change Colton's someday, assuming we survive this ordeal. I glance at the door. Someone else walks up to the checkout counter and sets down a handful of squashes.