Calore Dance Academy// Red Queen AU

Chapter 2

The checkout of Will's Deli and Grocery is abnormally busy for a Wednesday afternoon.

Will Whistle has plenty of talents, most less-than-admirable, but managing a store isn't one of them. I can't say when the last time was that I saw an actual customer buying anything other than over-the-counter drugs and cigarettes from inside the dinky little market, with no more than a couple of aisles and a row of refrigerators for meat and dairy.

By abnormally busy, I mean nothing more than to say that one other person is at the front counter with a basket looped around her arm. A moment before entering, I see her through the surprisingly-clean glass door: cropped blonde hair, ripped leather jacket, and loose blue jeans.

When the bell rings as I open the chintzy door to the shop, she glances up from the counter and offers me a curt nod. I return the gesture but am more focused on her eyes—stern, piercing blue eyes that look ancient in spite of her age. Twenty-two, twenty-five at the oldest.

"Never seen you here before," I say to her, coming closer. I rarely purchase food from Will for worry that it's expired or ridden with mold, so instead of roaming through the cramped and stout aisles, I get into line behind the woman, who must be six feet tall.

"Name's Diana. Don't trust you enough to give you my last," she muses and turns toward me.

My heart skips a beat at her bluntness, and then several more afterward, but I will my face to be calm, uninterested, even as I notice that there's nothing inside of her shopping basket.

Everything about her is hard. Rough. Aside from her torn up clothes and black boots, her mouth is curled into a permanent frown, and a long pink scar runs down the side of her jaw. If not for those things, she might be pretty, with her straight nose and round face.

"Mare Barrow. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you," Farley echoes, and holds out a hand.

Before I can take it, Will comes out from behind the curtain covering his closet of a backroom, amusement written on his features. "And nice to see that you two have met. What can I do for you, Miss Farley?" he asks with a smirk.

Diana Farley. Now I know her full name.

Will's beard, the color of snow, extends to his forearms, covering the bottom half of his wrinkled face. In his scrawny arms, he carries shallow crates of canned food, and his pathetic tennis shoes make sounds against the floor with each step. Prior to going behind it, he plops the crates on the counter, which vibrates a little with the impact.

"You know what I'm here for." Farley angles her chin towards me roughly. "You should leave." As she says it so bluntly, her jacket shifts, and I notice ink at its edge.

Scrawled at the base of her neck is a tattoo, a black circle with red lines that make up a jagged flower bursting from the inside. A very, very torn up and dilapidated flower. It looks like some artsy gang symbol.

Hell, it probably is.

I'm really not surprised to run into someone like Farley in this part of town. I've encountered plenty of sketchy characters within this little grocery store—and at this point, I'm immune to every one of them. East Harlem's notorious for its gangs and drugs, and Will's the kind of person who doesn't mind capitalizing on illegal things. It was only a matter of time before he moved from scamming and credit card fraud to the cold-hard business of drug dealing.

I blink at the woman stupidly, shifting my weight from foot to foot. Farley tilts her head as if to ask, what are you still doing here?

I'd excuse myself and come back later, but Will starts talking.