Thanks to all for the great reviews. There's a thing or two I'd like to point out:
1) Yes, it really is a fantasy story. Give it a chapter or two and you'll find out, ok?
2) Please, please stop pointing out when I make what you consider a 'mistake' with my 's' and 'Z's. There is no mistake. If you google something like Realise vs. Realize, you'll see it's written both ways. One's American, one's British. Is it really so hard to comprehend that if I'm Canadian I might write both ways?
I just wanted to mention this so you wouldn't trouble yourselves pointing it out during the reviews. Thanks, Tanya. Now please, read on
Chapter 2
My parents had to come pick me up at the hospital and they weren’t pleased; they wanted me to quit. Overprotective much?
I usually didn’t tell them when something bad happened at work and when I absolutely had to, I toned it down. No use having them freak out. Therefore, they had no idea what had happened to me before having a dog but they had been glad for the added protection. All the good that did me since I had let my latest assailant in.
I was furious with myself. Not because I had trusted Eric, that he’d betrayed that trust and had ended up harming me. Not even because my parents had had to pick me up and lecture me on my lack of judgement. No, I was furious because I had unknowingly put Riley in harm’s way. If Eric had brought a gun instead of a knife . . . Riley would have gotten shot. Even with the knife, he could have gotten stabbed. I shuddered.
But I was back at work. Even if my parents disagreed. Even if my boss had insisted I took a night off. I might have said yes if there had been anyone but David to replace me. His wife gave birth a little over a month ago and she had some difficulty adapting. She needed all the help she could get and I couldn’t bring myself to have David do my shift.
Besides, my wound was stitched (nineteen stitches!) and it was bandaged. I was physically fit and could do my work with no problem whatsoever. Except that now I was nervous. I was afraid of letting Riley out of my sight and I refused to let even my regulars in. I quickly explained why and most of them understood. Some of them actually bitched. That put them on my black list. From now on, those idiots would always be served outside.
Riley seemed to sense my mood because he stayed with me, never more than three feet away. I was slower at filling my fridges, and passing the broom and mop strained my arm but finally my job was done and I was able to pull out my computer chair, to set up my laptop on the counter and power it up. In the meantime, I heated my Mac n’cheese, opened a water bottle and chugged half of it down. The other half went in the dog bowl in the back store. I patiently waited for Riley to eat and drink his fill while I studied the room I had seen thousands of times. It was 'L' shaped, and the whole left side of the wall was covered with racks of shelves filled with store products. At the back completely was a deep floor sink where I emptied and filled the mop bucket. I noticed Riley wasn’t eating, he was whining as he looked from his food to me.
I frowned. “What is it boy? Your bowls are full, go on; eat.”
He whined again, went to the bowl then came back to me. I crouched at his level, looked him in the eye. He was a big dog and crouched as I was, he actually dominated me. But I wasn’t frightened by him. I trusted him. Like I’d trusted Eric? Hmm, scratch that thought.
Even in the dimly lit storage room, Riley’s fur gleamed. I actually raised my hand to touch him but realising what I’d done, I hastily pulled back and clamped down on the feeling of disappointment that welled up inside me. What would happen if I touched him? I wondered, feeling adventurous. Before I could tempt fate, Riley padded away from me with a slight growl, lowered his massive head and caught his bowl platter between his teeth. He pulled it toward me and I stared at him in puzzlement, unable to understand what he was doing. Suddenly, I knew.
“Riley!” I cried out, tears swimming in my eyes, threatening to spill out. He turned to stare at me, head cocked. “You . . . want me to bring your bowl out front boy? Is that what you want?”
He spun around, barked. Yes, that was what he wanted. He wanted to come up front to stay with me while we both ate. I dabbed at my eyes with my blue work shirt before picking up the platter and heading out front. The sound of the door bell startled me and I hurried to the front, set the platter down before heading for the window. The customer was buzzing insistently even though he could see me. Obviously the idiot wanted to make a point.
“Sir, you need to pass here please.” I gestured to the small window I was facing. He –finally! - removed his finger from the doorbell and sauntered over. “Took you long enough, bitch. I’ve been waiting here for an hour.”
I snorted. “Sir, I was in the back for maybe two minutes tops. I’m sorry you had to wait but you had only needed to press the bell slightly, I can hear it everywhere in the store.”
“I pressed on the buzzer but you didn’t come.”
“No you didn’t, it was right over my head, I would have heard it.”
He pointed to the intercom. “I pressed, I tell you!”
“Sir, can you hear my voice coming out of there? It’s an intercom. It won’t do anything if you press on it. You just had to press lightly on the doorbell.”
“I had no way of knowing that, right? Who knows; maybe you’re as deaf and stupid as you’re ugly.” He smirked.
Now what did my appearance have to do with anything? As I mentally pictured myself shoving this brainless idiot off the roof of the Olympic stadium, I smiled sweetly at him. “It’s a good thing that my boss didn’t hire me to look beautiful then, because I wouldn’t be here in the air-conditioned store watching you sweat like the pig that you are.” My boss had hired me for my temper, though.
It took a moment for the man with the bulbous nose and small eyes to realise I had insulted him. His eyes narrowed and he fisted his hand before hitting the bulletproof window. I heard a crack –not the window- and his howl of pain was immediate.
“Idiot,” I muttered, holding back a smile. Human stupidity would never cease to amaze me.
Cradling his broken hand to his chest, pig-man yelled, “You fucking ugly trailer-trash! I don’t know why you bother locking yourself in your store; you aren’t ever going to be raped or anything. Nobody would touch you with a ten-foot pole full of shit!”
Riley suddenly jumped up and leaned his forepaws on the counter beside me, barking furiously. Because I’d been about to reply to pig-man, my hand was on the ‘talk’ button and he heard my dog’s furious snarling. He jumped back with a startled yelp; fell on his ass before awkwardly getting back up and running away. He shouted one last curse to me over his shoulder, of course. I wouldn’t have expected anything less.
His words reverberated in my head as I sat down heavily on my chair, blinking back tears of frustration. “It still doesn’t get easier after all this time.” I whispered. I knew I wasn’t considered beautiful. I did think I was at least pretty, when I worked at it anyway. I had brown hair that reached to my shoulder blades. In the winter, it was dull, but when I managed to get some sun –not easy since I sleep during the day- I had nice red highlights in my hair. I had green eyes that often shifted tones, from pale green to almost brown. Most of the time, though, they were dark green. You probably couldn’t tell the difference; my glasses covered them. Without them, I was as blind as a bat. Literally. I had freckles that really stood out in the summer and washed out in the cold season. I wasn’t especially tall –five, six- and I was curvy. I wasn’t bad but you had to look deep, that’s what I thought.
But it wasn’t the diss about my appearance that bothered me; it was the fact that he had attacked my appearance. I could deal with people being angry about being locked outside. I could deal with them complaining about paying their gas in advance. But why, oh why, did they have to attack me? I was just doing my job! “Ah shit, I’m not paid enough to deal with this.”
Head bent, right hand tightly clasping the left one, I heard Riley whine. I didn’t turn to him, didn’t try to figure out what was wrong. I needed a moment to myself. He was used to it; didn’t make it any easier.
He whined again, closer to me. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him edge closer. His eyes –warm brown - seemed to be searching my face. Still, I could not turn to him. I was on the verge of spilling those nasty tears. Nasty because they were caused by him. Then Riley did something that really surprised me; he leaned his head on my lap. The dam broke; a tear spilled and fell on his black head. Riley was comforting me. Another tear spilled.
I noticed my clasped hands were about two inches from Riley’s head. My fingers itched to touch him but I couldn’t without letting him know. I raised my right hand and showed him that I was bringing it closer to his head. My heart was hammering. I didn’t want him to leave me, just so I wouldn’t touch him, but I felt the urge to feel his fur, to touch him, to see if he was as soft as he looked. I didn’t try to understand this need; I just thought it may be because of our old Golden Retriever who had died of cancer some two years past. Maybe I had simply missed the feel of digging my fingers in the fur of an animal who loved me unconditionally. Of course, Riley wasn’t my dog but my fingers apparently had a mind of their own.
My hand crept closer to the big dog and a smile of anticipation stretched my lips. Then, one inch away from him, Riley suddenly growled in warning. My fingers curled into a fist and my eyes widened in shock. “You tease, I was almost there!”
He growled again, lifted his head and turned to glance at the window. Natalie Sanders was there, waving a little to gain my attention. I rose hurriedly and buzzed her in, glancing down at Riley in wonder. Had he growled because I was going to touch him or because the cop had arrived?
“Hey Shanna, I was coming to check . . .” She hesitated. “Shanna? Have you been crying?”
I’d never had any friends. The secluded and sheltered life I led never gave me any opportunity to make any. But if I ever considered anyone a friend of mine, it would be Natalie. A few years ago, I had noticed her passing in her cop car often at night and I quickly realised that she was checking up on me. Touched, I had called the police station and had the operator thank her for me. The message was relayed and from then on she’d come in and chat a bit.
I started shaking my head in response to her question but Riley nudged me on the leg and when I glanced down he seemed to be regarding me expectantly. Still staring at him, I surprised myself by saying, “I . . . I just had to deal with a difficult customer. It’s just been a rough week.” I shrugged.
Natalie took a step toward the door, scanned left and right. “Where is he? You want me to go teach him some manners?” It had happened once before that she’d been near the fridges that a customer had started cussing at me loudly. She’d heard everything from the intercom and had gone outside, had cuffed him and stuffed him in the back of her squad car, told him to think about what he’d done. The man had come to apologise to me afterward and I’d never laughed so much in my life.
“Thank you, but no. Riley scared him off; he’s long gone. Thank God it’s Friday though.”
“T.G.I.F,” she agreed with a nod. “I just wanted to check up on you. I was hoping you’d take a night off.”
I shook my head. “David offered but I declined. His wife is having a hard time since giving birth and knowing that, I just couldn’t . . .”
“What about the weekend night shift guy?” she demanded.
“He goes to school during the week, but it’s his last week.” Again, I shrugged. “I’ll be okay, it’s just for tonight and then I’m off for the weekend.”
Natalie nodded, searching my face intently. “You call me if there’s anything, okay?” She pulled out a small notebook and pen from her back pocket, jotted something down and handed it over to me. “Here’s my personal cell phone number; you won’t have to go through central to get to me.”
I nodded, a lump forming in my throat. “Thank you Natalie. I will call if there’s something I need help with.” Those words weren’t strong enough for what I wanted to say, thank you for being a friend.
She smiled and eyed my laptop behind me. “So, how’s your book coming along?”
“Great, actually!” I beamed. “I’m in the final editing stages of it. I’ll be able to send out query letters pretty soon.”
“Can’t wait to read it. Keep me updated, okay?”
“Will do.” I smiled as I watched her leave. She also checked the door one final time before heading for her car.
As I sat down to my laptop, I chuckled, then laughed, my good mood completely restored. Riley rose to stand beside my chair and whined softly, his head cocked, his tail wagging slightly. His expression seemed . . . curious.
I giggled at myself for giving Riley human traits. “Can I tell you a secret? Promise you won’t tell anyone?” His eyes narrowed in what I could only decipher as meaning, “Are you kidding me Lady?” But maybe he just wanted to sneeze.
“Okay then. Natalie has been asking me about my books for almost as long as I’ve worked here. She thinks I’m still working on the same story and at this point, she must take me for a total wannabe who will never amount to much. A dreamer, you know?” I could feel a silly grin on my face but I was unable to repress it: talking about writing just did that to me.
Riley nudged my hand with his humid nose. “Yes, well, truth is . . .” I beat a drum roll on the counter with my index fingers. “I’ve already written four books and this,” I patted my laptop affectionately, “Is my fifth one. I haven’t lied for that part; I really am in the final stages of editing it.” My grin widened.
Riley nudged me again, harder. I looked out to make sure he wasn’t warning me, then continued. “Two out of my four books actually landed in the top five best-sellers and the other two in the top ten. Only, nobody knows this because I changed my name. Even my parents aren’t aware of this.” I frowned slightly, thinking of my parents. “You see, my full name is Shanna Cameron.” I tapped the name-tag hanging above my left-breast, “but I gave myself a pseudonym for my writing using the first letter of my name and last name. And so I go from Shanna Cameron, clerk in a gas station, to Shayna Cambridge, best-selling unknown author!” I laughed delightedly. “Ingenious, isn’t it?”
Riley jumped up excitedly, running back and forth behind the counter, barking wildly. I cocked my head at the dog and realised, as he spun in circles trying to catch his tail that this was the first time I’d seen Riley actually act like the dog he was.
Just as suddenly as he had started, Riley stopped, sat, looked up at me. “You want more?” He panted, grinned. “You want to know why all this is secret?” He wagged his tail.
I leaned back in my chair and stared at him. Funny thing was that I didn’t feel ridiculous at all talking to Riley this way. Like I mentioned, I’d never really had any friends and talking to strangers didn’t come naturally to me. Of course, I had to deal with strangers on a regular basis but that was what I was paid for. Spilling my beans like this to Riley was easy, effortless. Besides, he couldn’t interrupt me and wouldn’t judge me. Who better to confide in?
“My parents are . . .” My voice trailed off. How could I describe my parents? Obsessive? Paranoid? Fanatic? None of those words sounded true so I finally said, “Complicated. For as long as I can remember, I have not been allowed one creative thought of my own. I couldn’t read, watch television or play any games that weren’t ‘educational’.” I made quotation marks with my fingers. “When we finally got a television, my parents had it pre-programmed so we’d get to watch only TLC and Discovery. In both French and English.” I rolled my eyes. “I was home-schooled and we live in the middle of a forest. Know what that means? No neighbours, no kids my age; no friends.”
I paused and glanced at Riley who was staring at me attentively. Seeing how I wasn’t pursuing the conversation with myself, Riley stretched his neck and gently licked my hand. Then he glanced up, his eyes pleading. I chuckled, probably reading way too much into the dog’s actions. I glanced at the cash register, squinted my eyes and made out the time. With a sigh full of regret, I rose to return my laptop to its bag; it was getting too late to write.
While I packed my computer, I spoke, “Needless to say, it wasn’t a very colourful childhood but it was safe and quiet which is what my parents wanted for their only child. One day while I was supposed to go to the Museum, I secretly rebelled against my parents and went to the city library instead. I still remember being terrified of walking into the rather pleasant looking stone building. You see, I was only allowed educational books. But that isn’t what I wanted, what I longed for.” I made sure to look him in the eyes when I said that. I didn’t want him thinking I would just disobey my parents when it suited me, though God knew why I should care. “What I needed to read, needed like the air I breathed, was fantasy. Magic. Books about extraordinary adventures, about magical people in magical lands. I wanted the impossible to happen to everyday people. I wanted a story, not a ten page document about the Panda’s eating habits!”
Riley cocked his head.
“Yeah, I know; I have issues. Anyway, I fell head over heels in love with Fantasy books and I got a brilliant idea; I told my parents I wanted a job. I was bored out of my mind, I told them. It was the only thing I ever truly argued with them about. They finally gave in when I said I wanted a night shift job. It was quiet and undemanding –I hadn’t counted on the customers! - And I’d be home during the day. And that is how I landed here!” I spread my arms wide and grinned.
I leaned back against the counter and glanced outside. I noticed cars passing in the streets and willed them away; I didn’t feel like arguing with some other idiot. “I could have left this job years ago,” I said softly, “but I have real liberty here.” I glanced at Riley. “I'm twenty-five years old and I live at my parents’ still, in the bachelor pad they built for me. But I’ve never known anything else and I’m not really a big fan of change.” I shrugged. “It’s just easier this way, I mean, what am I supposed to tell my parents? That even though I have been working here for five years, I’ve been able to save up enough money to buy a home?” I laughed. “Yeah. I don’t think so.”
I pushed away from the counter and returned my computer chair to the back store, followed closely by my guardian shadow. On my way back out, I glanced up and spotted the boxes of receipt rolls and remembered that I needed to bring a box out front; we were almost out. I unhooked the rickety old ladder off the wall, set it up facing the receipt boxes and sighed as I looked up; I really hated heights. Slowly, I climbed up, braced my legs against the ladder and pulled a box to me, mentally noting to tell my boss there were only two boxes left. I hugged the heavy box to me as I carefully made my way down. As I set my foot down, I realised something was wrong; instead of the flat floor, my foot landed on a smooth cylinder-shaped object. Instead of crushing under the combine weight of me and the box I was holding, the stupid can rolled, sending me flying backwards. The box fell out of my hands and landed on my left knee; I screamed in pain while my arms began flailing to remain upright but it was impossible.
If I had fallen a little more to the right I would have been fine. Bruised and scraped, but fine. But no, I had to land a little more to the left; my head hit the corner of the metal racks we had for all the store products. The wet sound my head made when connecting with the metal corner probably would have made been nauseous if I hadn’t passed out.
xxx
But I'm on the path to getting well. On that note, hope things are gravy for you!