Tempestuous Page 4

  “Business as usual, from what I can tell. But we should ask Troy. Hey, Troy!” Ariel splayed her belly onto the counter and leaned far over to look into the food stall directly next to us. It was a rotisserie chicken place called Spitfire. Troy Beck’s freckled face peeked back from around the corner of the wall.

  “Yes, m’lady,” he said without batting an eyelash before locking his baby blues on mine. “Oh, hey, Miranda. I was waiting for you to get back. Gotta favor.” He slid underneath his counter and popped up in front of ours.

  “I already told you how to smooth things over with your girlfriend, Troy,” I said. “I can’t be your Cyrano twenty-four seven.”

  “Oh that’s all covered. I did exactly as you suggested. Nice call, by the way—Lauren totally forgave me.”

  “And so you need my help because….” I acted annoyed by these frequent requests from people for advice, but secretly, I relished the attention. Besides, I really was that good at it.

  “Here’s the thing,” Troy said. “Lauren’s kid brother is in the hospital. He’s got some sort of—”

  “Oh that’s horrible,” Ariel and I said in unison.

  “It’s okay,” Troy said. “He came through surgery and things are looking good. But the thing is … I kind of promised Lauren I’d get him a copy of the new snowboarding game, Avalanche X.” He pantomimed what was apparently supposed to indicate a tricky snowboard maneuver, but looked more like a reenactment of Buster Keaton slipping on a banana peel. “It’s the only thing that will cheer him up. The kid’s had a rough year.”

  “Can’t you just buy a copy?” Ariel said.

  “If you’re short on cash, don’t expect me to be your loan shark,” I said.

  “No, it’s not that. I wish.” He shook his head. “Haven’t you seen it on TV? The game is sold out all over town. Has been for weeks.”

  “What makes you think I would be able to get you a copy?” I said, considering his request as I added straws to the dispenser.

  “Well, it was worth a try.” He sighed and turned back toward the Spitfire counter.

  “Wait a sec.” I crossed my arms thoughtfully. “Don’t give up so easily. It’s really for a sick kid?”

  “Yeah,” he said, looking hopeful. “Can you help?”

  “Maybe.” Smiling, I began to formulate my latest brilliant plot. Might just be able to kill two birds with one stone. “I’m not promising anything, but….”

  “No, I totally understand,” Troy nodded his head, his face flushed with appreciation. “That’s great, Miranda. Whatever you can do. I totally appreciate it. Better get back to work,” he said, waving. “And if this works out, I owe you a solid. Again.” I watched as Troy disappeared behind the wall that separated our booths.

  “Miranda,” Ariel’s eyes narrowed as she considered me. “You shouldn’t have promised Troy that. He’ll get the poor little kid’s hopes up.” She crossed her arms and looked at me accusingly.

  “Ariel, I said I’d try. I didn’t say I could do it. Besides, I have a plan. And you should be pleased to know it involves your new friend.”

  “What new friend?”

  “The magician, of course.”

  “Magician?” Ariel looked confused.

  “Ariel, really….” I rolled my eyes. “CALEB. Jeez. Now, do you want to help me with the plan or just stand around looking confused?”

  “Sure, I’ll help!” she said. “What should I do first? Reconnaissance?”

  “No, let’s start with some counter intelligence, as in mind the counter. You hang out here and keep an eye on things while I go have a little chat with Caleb.”

  “Okay, what should I do if anyone asks where you are?”

  “Ariel, do I have to think of everything?” I tossed her my apron with one hand as I lifted up the counter with the other. “I’ll be back in ten.”

  Exiting the food court, I glanced down the corridor and saw in the distance what looked like a herd of Ewoks on the move. Upon closer inspection, I realized it was a family of nine, bundled up like mini Michelin men in hats, scarves, and puffy coats. It could only have been Colin’s Cheeze Monkey hellions heading toward the exit. I smiled in satisfaction. I still had the magic touch.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Now My Charms Are All O’erthrown

  As I rode up the escalator on my way to Got Games, Quinn from Bead Bungalow was on her way down. I was surprised because she typically avoided the bowels of the mall at all costs, though I can’t say I blamed her. Her red hair was pulled into a high ponytail and colorful beads draped from her elegant neck. She waved at me, gold bangles jangling. As usual she looked more like a gorgeous gypsy fortune teller than a mall employee. “Miranda,” she called out as she passed me. “Have you seen Mike? He’s been missing for a few hours and I’m starting to get worried.” I remembered Ariel’s gossip that Quinn and Mike had recently become an item.

  “He wasn’t at Treasure Hunt when I passed it on my way in, but I figured he was on his break or in the back room,” I said, glancing at my watch. “It’s only an hour till closing. Maybe he decided to skip out early on account of the snow. Or maybe one of those psychotic-looking porcelain dolls came to life and strangled him.” Quinn’s brow furrowed at my joke. Oops. My big mouth and my innate sarcasm got me into trouble more times than I could count, and this was just another example. “Just kidding,” I said louder as she reached the bottom of the escalator and I neared the top. “I’m sure it’s nothing. I’ll ask around and see if anyone’s seen him recently.”

  Still feeling like a heel from my run-in with Quinn, I rounded the corner and came upon the Got Games storefront. A hangout for local multiplayer netheads and board game enthusiasts, Got Games was basically a nerd’s paradise. Exhibit A for why this was my first visit. The place screamed “warlock’s low-budget bachelor pad,” with walls painted floor-to-ceiling black and affixed with cheap star decals. Near the back of the shop, I spied Caleb engaged in conversation with a customer who was hidden from my view at the end of an aisle piled high with classic family board games. As I sidled up, I realized it wasn’t a customer—it was Chad Mathers, apparently still milking his break. As soon as he spotted me, the poor guy blushed from head to toe and stammered something about needing to head back to his post at the Cleat Locker.

  “See you tonight, Chad,” Caleb said as Ariel’s fantasy dreamboat backed away, all but stumbling over his sneakers. Tonight? Caleb was ditching my invite to Ariel’s birthday party so that he could hang out with some dumb jock? Talk about your odd couple.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” I said. “What’s happening tonight?”

  “Oh, nothing you’d be interested in.” Most likely true, I thought, though his cagey response annoyed me a little.

  “If it involves the likes of lug nut Chad Mathers, you’re probably right,” I said.

  “Really?” Caleb replied. “I was under the impression that ‘lug nuts’ were a lucrative market for you.” He picked up a price tag gun and began tagging boxes of Magic Eight Balls.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I flushed.

  “Your rep precedes you,” he said without looking up from his task at hand. “Not that it’s my business. I don’t judge. Besides, Ariel likes you, so I figure you must be okay.”

  Embarrassed that a virtual stranger apparently knew the complete dossier on my fall from grace at Eastern Prep, I was bordering on speechless. Gossip traveled at warp speed these days, it would seem.

  “Did you need something?” he said, getting straight to the point. His brusque self-confidence threw me off my game. I was used to granting people favors—not requesting them. I shifted my weight and scratched my left ankle with the toe of my right sneaker. I wasn’t sure how to play this guy.

  “Well, I was on my break and I thought I’d come by and say hi.” I smiled in my most winning manner. Inveigling 101: Open the door a crack with your charm and then waltz right in.

  “Okay,” said Caleb, with an elaborate shrug, though I thought I s
potted a little blush creeping slowly over his face. That’s better. Now I was getting somewhere. Except for the fact that he didn’t seem to have much interest in holding up his end of the conversation. God, was this guy socially clueless.

  “Also,” I said, “I wanted to know if by any chance you could score me a copy of Avalanche X.” I hadn’t meant to just blurt it out like that, but this guy had a way of rattling me.

  “What?” he said, looking incredulous. “Oh right. I knew you didn’t come up here just to chat.” He shook his head in disgust. “GAME OVER” flashed in my head. “Even if I could get you that game—an impossibility, by the way—what makes you think I’d go out of my way to hook you up?”

  “But it’s not for me….” Forget it. It wasn’t worth this. Clearly Caleb was a jerk and I wasn’t going to lower myself by begging.

  “Of course it’s not for you. You probably just want to turn around and resell it for a hundred-percent markup, opportunist that you are.” Ouch. Now that really wasn’t fair.

  “You know, you’re not as smart as you think you are.” It was the best comeback I could muster. “Maybe if you actually gave me a chance you’d realize—”

  Caleb turned over a Magic Eight Ball and peered into its murky depths.

  “Not Likely,” he said, holding up the toy to let me see the prediction it offered. “I can put your name on the waiting list with all the other ‘regular people.’ I know that might be a foreign concept for you, but it’s the best I can do.”

  “No. Forget I asked,” I said and turned toward the exit. I was seething. This was a huge mistake.

  “Hang on,” Caleb called after me. I turned back, thinking he was going to apologize, and waited for him to say something. He looked me straight in the eye long enough that I started to feel a little uncomfortable under his scrutiny. There was something almost mesmerizing about his eyes, which were the color of a stormy sea. “Give this to Ariel, since I can’t make it to her party,” he finally said, tossing me a rectangular object enclosed in a plastic Got Games bag. I plucked it from the air and turned on my heel, fuming.

  I kept my head down as I stepped back onto the escalator, but the sound of nearby giggling made me survey the panoramic view of the ground level below me. The Itneys were exiting the Luxe Labels boutique like a couple of jackals emerging from their cave, laden with shopping bags. On a bench in front of the store, Rachel was sitting on Brian’s lap, stroking his hair and peppering his forehead with kisses. Once the Itneys interrupted their love-fest, the foursome took off in the direction of the movie theaters. I felt like throwing up.

  “Success?” Ariel wondered when I returned to Hot-Dog Kabob, eyeing the white cellophane bag from Caleb. I shook my head dejectedly.

  “No,” I said, hastily stashing her present near my purse under the counter. Ariel’s neck craned to where I’d hidden the gift behind a roll of paper towels and she looked at me suspiciously for a moment before her eyes registered a new thought.

  “Oh. Oh! By the way, Riley and Brooke came by looking for you a few minutes ago.”

  “Who?”

  “Riley and Brooke. From the Dress Depot.”

  “What did they want?”

  “They’re feuding over what music to play in the store. Riley wants death metal, but Brooke insists on hip-hop. They want you to arbitrate. I told them you’d call over there when you got back. Do you want the number?”

  “Let them figure it out on their own. Why does everyone insist on making their problems mine, anyway? I’m freaking sick of it!”

  Ariel jumped as I slammed my palm down on the counter in frustration. I immediately regretted letting Caleb, Brian, Rachel, and the Itneys turn me into such a Debbie Downer, especially when Ariel’s surprise party was less than an hour away. I hoped Grady didn’t forget his promise to fetch her ice cream cake from Just Desserts later.

  “Oh, hey, you haven’t seen Mike pass by here while I was gone, have you?” I asked Ariel, attempting to shift my mood to a more pleasant one. “Quinn says he’s MIA.”

  “Yeah, she came by here and asked me, too. I haven’t seen him.”

  “I bet he took off early.”

  “But without locking down the store?” Ariel said with a frown. “That’s not like him.”

  “Speaking of,” I changed the subject. “Let’s start packing up this joint. No way are we going to get any more customers before nine.”

  “I’ll grab the mop,” Ariel said.

  CHAPTER SIX

  These Are Not Natural Events

  “You called Chad a LUG NUT?” Ariel stared at me, mouth agape as if I’d just picked a bar fight with the Dalai Lama.

  “Not to his face!” I sighed, needlessly organizing the stack of red-and-white-checkered cardboard boats we served the corn dogs in.

  “Do you even know what he scored on his SATs?”

  “Like I’m supposed to know this?”

  “Miranda, he’s a cerebral phenom. Marshall High made it to nationals in the Academic Decathlon last year thanks to him.”

  “Are we talking about the same Chad Mathers? The guy whose neck is thicker than your waist?”

  “Total brainiac.”

  “But he’s a football player!”

  “Slash brainiac.” Ariel was shaking her head now, like I had somehow failed to properly kneel before the pope. “Slash dreamy….” my coworker added in a near whisper.

  For a girl who was homeschooled, Ariel certainly managed to know a lot about our fellow mall employees. If what she was saying about Chad was true, I couldn’t help but feel more than a little discomfited at having summarily dismissed him as having all brawn and no brain. It was making more sense now why he and Caleb seemed to be tight. They both went to the same school and perhaps weren’t at opposing ends of the mental spectrum after all, though they certainly didn’t look like they ran in the same circles. I wondered if it was too late to track Chad down and see if he’d attend my little soiree for Ariel, which would be the equivalent of inviting the latest babyfaced boy band to a preteen-packed bat mitzvah. Maybe he could just swing by on his way out after work. I needed an excuse to vamoose so that I could drop by the Cleat Locker and ask him. I only hoped he wouldn’t think I was asking him to come because I was interested in him!

  “I think I’m going to go check on Riley and Brooke after all,” I told Ariel, throwing a disgusting gray washcloth back in the bucket of disgusting gray water. “You know, make sure they didn’t claw each other’s eyes out.” Ariel’s face registered skepticism and she crossed her arms decidedly.

  “You’re up to something,” she said.

  “Say what?”

  “You’ve been acting weird all night.”

  “Whatever. Unicorn Fantasy is affecting your brain.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Ever since those friends from your school—the ones with too much makeup and that pretty boy—came by here, you’ve been a little whack-a-doo.”

  “They’re not my friends.”

  I wish she hadn’t reminded me. The Cleat Locker was on the ground floor near the movie theaters, in the same direction I’d just seen my ex-boyfriend and his harem heading. I’d ditched my hot dog hat, but that didn’t make me feel any more confident about possibly running into my social detractors yet again tonight. Still, it would be worth it if I could convince Chad to come to Ariel’s birthday party. And who couldn’t I convince of almost anything, crotchety Caleb notwithstanding?

  I continued to ruminate on the grumpy gamemaster’s rudeness as I ambled in the direction of Siberia, past the tchotchke-filled greeting card store and the Blissworks Body Shop, when slam!—rent-a-cop Grady came barreling around the corner by Rockin’ Tots children’s boutique completely out of breath and seemingly alarmed.

  “Whoa, Five-O!” I grabbed him by the shoulders to steady myself since he’d nearly knocked me off my feet. “Where’s the fire?”

  “Miranda, hey,” he said. “So sorry—can’t talk now.” He brushed past me, guns-a-blazing,
metaphorically speaking. Can’t talk now? Since when did Grady not have time for moi?

  “Don’t forget about the cake!” I called after him, wondering if there was any reason for his mad dash beyond his own propensity to act like a member of the vice squad. Feeling less-than-confident that Ariel’s birthday cake from the other side of the mall would make its way to the food court by nine, I hurried on to the Cleat Locker. “Mensa” Mathers was pulling down the metal grate in preparation for closing, but I scuttled underneath in a half-limbo maneuver.

  “Not so fast … you’ve still got twenty minutes on the clock,” I said, trying to temper my charm to appear as platonic as possible. He blushed for the twelfth time tonight.

  “Slow night,” he said, grinning sheepishly and leaving the grate halfway up. “If you’re looking for snow boots, by the way, you’ll have to try Celebrity Footwear. We only sell athletic shoes.”

  “I’m not here to shop.” I followed him back to the cash register where he had a small TV behind the counter tuned to local news.

  “They’re predicting four feet by morning,” he said, leaning his elbows on the counter to watch the footage. A live camera shot panned across a lamp-lit street that was abandoned except for a few stray cars which had skidded off the road. An on-scene reporter in a pink puffy jacket, Moscovian fur hat, and giant ski gloves looked as though this wasn’t her most plumb assignment to date. Her eyes were watery and her nose looked like a maraschino cherry, but to her credit, her freezing schnoz matched her lips, which were perfectly lipstick-lined.

  “It’s really rough out there,” Chad said. “The mayor just issued a citywide curfew to keep drivers off the road.”

  “What? How are we supposed to get home?”

  “If you don’t have your own personal snow plow or a really good four-wheel drive, good luck.”

  Like all football players, I assumed Chad was merely resorting to a manly sense of hyperbole, so I ignored him as well as my creeping doubts about trying to navigate my car home through what was shaping up to be a full-on blizzard. Surely it couldn’t have gotten that bad in the four hours since I’d arrived at work. I was about to launch into my invitation to Ariel’s birthday bash when we heard the screeching sound of a whistle. Seconds later, another referee-shirted beefcake swung his way under the half-open storefront grate. Chad’s coworker, I presumed. He dropped the whistle from between his lips.