Good Girl (Playroom) (2 page)

“Isalright,” slurs together. I meant to say
it’s alright
, but whether from the hit or the gobsmackage, I can’t form a complete sentence.  I shuffle to my feet looking like a goob, and stare at the gray specks on the commercial-grade vinyl tiles, willing the embarrassed flush to drain from my cheeks.

“Willow,”
Kieren says like he’s never seen me before. I look like hell because I’ve perfected my wayward appearance. I’m in ratty jeans, a faded sweatshirt from our local university, and sneakers. My thick brown hair is in a ponytail. I don’t look good, so I know Kieren isn’t impressed by me, and he's seen me look worse in gym class. I shrug-
whatever
.

“I d
idn’t think you worked here,” Kieren says in honest surprise. Oh, that’s what that look meant. I’m such a loser that he didn’t think I had a job. My back bristles up and I try to mask the annoying hurt that flashes across my face.

“What can I do for you,
Kieren? What brings you to Revamped?” I say with a saccharine sweet voice- a voice that is so false I wince. My natural voice isn’t the whiny brat or cheerleader
yay
that Kieren’s accustomed to. It’s gravelly. I always sound like I’m getting over a cold or I smoked five packs a day since kindergarten- which is pretty accurate- the smokes, not the cold.

“I…”
Kieren hesitates and grips the bag he’s holding. I decide to look professional and go around the counter and stand behind the cash register. I narrow my eyes as Kieren’s huge, ball-catching hands flex on the bag. I wonder what those hands would feel like flexing on other things, lower things. I smirk at my naughty thought and get beamed in the head again.

“What?” I whine
in annoyance as I rub my new owie. Mr. Kline looks at me with pissed off amusement, like he knew the naughty direction of my thoughts. I was so caught up with Kieren that I didn’t notice that my boss came out to see who made the bell ding.

“NO!” Mr. Kline points a
rolled up comic at me- the comic he hit me with like a naughty dog who pissed on the carpet and was punished with a rolled up newspaper. I give my boss big, brown innocent eyes. He looks at me in a way he never has before, just as Kieren did moments ago, like he’s never seen me. Mr. Kline’s view of me is suddenly different. I stifle a shiver.

“Mr. Mason, what can I do for you?” Mr. Kline asks
Kieren as his hip nudges me away from front and center. His hand slips up my back, over the nape of my neck, and up the back of my skull until he finds the bump on my scalp. His fingers tap around it in a weird manner, causing my mouth to fall open and goosebumps to pop on my skin. I shiver and snap my jaw shut on a whimper. He keeps it up while he conducts his business and my upper-body slumps to the counter with a thump. I slump there like a ragdoll- Mr. Kline’s shuddering ragdoll.

“Ah- these are in excellent condition,
Kieren. How much are you asking?” Mr. Kline sounds professional, not at all like he’s playing phrenologist on my scalp.

Kieren
’s bag was filled with action figures, so his face is bright-red with embarrassment. Now I understand why Kieren didn’t want me to know what he came here for. He’s selling what constitutes as playing with dollies. For some reason, it only makes Kieren cuter.

“I’m trying to raise money to get my truck fixed. The four-wheel drive went out on it last night and I have a lot of driveways to plow. Whatever you can get
me will be great. I…I was just holding on to them. It’s not like I played with them or anything,” he bashfully mutters as a crimson flush pinks his cheeks.

Like hell…
Kieren plays with them. Mr. Kline and I play with all the toys in the store. We’ll play with these after Kieren leaves.

“How about two-si
xty,” my boss eagerly negotiates.

I raise a brow at Mr. Kline’s way over the retail value of the action figures. He doesn’t even wait for the boy to
respond. My boss quickly pulls the cash from the drawer and slides a waver across the counter. I stare into his manly face trying to figure out what the hell he’s up to.

“So… Willow,
you still jailbait?” Kieren asks with a smirk in his voice while he fills out the paperwork. With his eyes on the paper, he doesn’t see Mr. Kline’s face transform from its soft, pleasant features to those of a raging bull.

I try to step b
ack, but fingers tighten in my hair. I move back to where I was, but that isn’t good enough for my boss. Mr. Kline pulls me into his side and places a possessive hand on the nape of my neck. His fingers pulse every few seconds, causing my body to break out in a sweat.

“Um… just this morning actually,” I stammer
as my eyes rove over Mr. Kline’s angry face, looking for clues on how to react.

Today is my eighteenth birthday- no longer jailbait as Kieren
so rudely called it. Mr. Kline’s hand pulsates on my neck in silent warning. I scowl up at him and bite my tongue. He’s my boss, but I have enough people telling me what to do. I’m an adult today, as ya know. I stomp my foot in a small version of a tantrum and accidently hit Mr. Kline’s sneaker. He winces and squeezes my neck in punishment. His green eyes narrow and a grimace gnarls his large lips.

“Well, maybe we could go out sometime. Ya know…
and celebrate your birthday,” Kieren smoothly says, causing my eyes to bulge from my head out of shock- I must look like a cartoon character from the nineteen-forties. Kieren’s lips quark up into a smirk and he winks in my direction. I watch Mr. Kline instead, as he exaggeratedly rolls his eyes.

“Willow wi
ll let you know,” my boss frostily replies for me. “Good luck with your truck. Tell your dad I said hello and I’ll see him Saturday night as usual.” Mr. Kline’s words are pleasant but his voice is frigid.

“Sure thing, Auggie.” Kieren
conspiratorially winks at my boss and blushes. “I’ll stop in again and see ya real soon, Willow.” Kieren doesn’t look at me as he says it. He stares at Mr. Kline and it’s said in a way that’s mildly threatening.

Mr. Kline makes a throat clearing noise that means
mmm-hum
,
yeah sure
, and
buh-bye
all at the same time. I feel like I was the item being negotiated on, not the actions figures.

As soon as the bell dings
, solidifying Kieren’s departure, Mr. Kline breathes in deep and releases it in a gust, and his hand drops from my neck. I pick up Darth Vader and march him around the counter towards Aquaman. The action figure disappears just as Darth was about to pummel him.

“Hey!” I yell in a
nnoyance. “Aquaman sucks anyway,” I whine.

Darth disappears fr
om my hand and is softly cradled in Mr. Kline’s big palm. He practically coos at it. Ah- it was Darth Vader that my boss was coveting. Now I understand that hefty chunk of change he paid for a handful of shitty action figures. I watch in amusement as Mr. Kline tucks his baby in an air-tight display box and disappears into his backroom.

I transform Bumble Bee from his car into the mighty autobot and continue my assault on the lame Aquam
an. He doesn’t stand a chance. I may have even made sounds to go along with my assault, but I’ll deny it.

“Are you through?” Mr. Kline asks
in amusement. He’s leaning his tall body on the door frame to the back of the store. I can tell he was watching me for a while. I blush and quickly pick up Kieren’s dolls.

“You put me in a store w
ith this stuff when it obviously wasn’t a good idea. I only had Robbie’s toys to play with growing up. Clover’s dolls didn’t survive to be handed down to me. My parents thought a toy was a toy, so I had action figures that were a decade old. Working here is the equivalent of a junkie cooking meth. Not a good idea.”

Big palm
s deftly grip my hips and plunk me on the counter. I’m five-feet tall and weigh just under a hundred pounds. I look like a twelve-year-old boy with a ponytail. Mr. Kline towers over me by a foot and a half and more than doubles my weight. When I’m in trouble, my boss puts me on the counter like a bad toy so that he doesn’t have to bend down as far to yell at me. I’ve known Mr. Kline as long as I’ve known my brother, just as long as I’ve known my entire family.

My first memory is of Mr. Kline
and Robbie playing horsey with me- I was the horse and they were my handlers. I would neigh and crawl around the yard, chasing after a carrot. Mr. Kline never let me have the carrot. He’d eat it and laugh. He also wasn’t Mr. Kline back then, he was Auggie. When Auggie graduated from high school, he told me to call him Mr. Kline. See why I am confused now that Mr. Kline wants me to call him Auggie again.

“No
Kieren. Do I make myself clear?” Mr. Kline firmly says, broaching no room for argument. He towers over me and leans into my personal space. Anyone looking in would see a mammoth of a man eclipsing a child, but I’m not afraid- he’d never hurt me… Intimidate me… oh hell, yes!

“Yes, s
ir,” I say, but don’t mean it. I like Kieren. What’s the big deal? Mr. Kline manages to pull off a wince at the sir and a look of disappointment that has me strangely feeling guilty. I never feel guilty, and I don’t like it. I manipulate adults or steamroll over them, and they get out of my way… not Mr. Kline, apparently.

“Aug
gie,” Mr. Kline points at his chest, “Never, sir. That term isn’t to fall from your lips again, Willow.” I shake my head and keep quiet. I almost said
yes, sir…
again. “We need to have a talk now that you’re eighteen,” he says in a parental way that is at complete odds with the flexing of his large fingers on my hips and thighs.

“I have enough daddies and mommies, Aug
gie,” I snidely say, and he rolls his eyes at me. “Clover is enough parent for a school of kids, just ask my niece and nephew.”

“Your parents and Robbie are too lax and Clover is too strict. It’s created a monster known as Willow. A very sheltered, naïve, innocent
, Willow monster, and it worries me,” Auggie murmurs in concern, and he tugs my ponytail to lighten the insult.

Yeah… I’m a little shit, I deserve the monster title.

“Of course, I’m innocent,” I sweetly purr. “I haven’t perpetrated any crimes lately. I mean today is the first day that it would matter anyway.” I jokingly says, and he looks at me like I’ve grown a second head. “I know what you mean, Auggie. Jeesh, I was joking.” I laugh but it doesn’t soften Mr. Kline’s face like usual. I know I’m in trouble bad this time when he doesn’t fall prey to my manipulations.

“I saw the look you gave Kieren
. I know that you’re not a child anymore. It didn’t happen this morning because you became an adult. It’s been happening for a while. The problem is that since you were too good of a girl, you will now become a target,” Mr. Kline pointedly says. 

“I’ve had the sex talk a billion times. I was in the room when Mom and Dad gave it to Robbie. I’ve had it from each of them and once from you. I don’t need to hear it again.” I struggle to get down from the counter. It’s embarrassing because having your parents or siblings give you the talk is normal, but your boss giving it to you on your eighteenth birthday
while you’re at work- humiliating.

“This isn’t the sex talk. Any idiot can do it. This is a different kind of talk. I know you’ve had a crush on that
little douche for a long time, and Kieren knows it, too. You don’t know men at all, Willow. They are despicable creatures. You can’t trust their motives.”

“You said I could trust you and Robbie and my dad. You’ve said it for eighteen years. If I had a problem
, I was to go to one of you or Clover.” I sigh heavily and my heart aches. “Sam was the best at this stuff,” I whisper, and pray Auggie didn’t hear me. But I know he did when a look of pity crosses his face. It agonizingly twists my heart.

“I’m sorry, Willow,” Auggie gently murmurs
and smoothes his hand down my hair in comfort. “I’ll do my best to say this without hurting you, but this conversation is important.”

“Okay,” I say in defeat. 

“Yeah, you’re to trust us not to hurt you. Your family won’t touch you like that, but a horny boy is a different matter. All a boy wants is a warm, wet hole to rest in,” Auggie growls. 

“Ew! Gross!” I push my boss
away. “That’s nasty, and it can’t be true.”

“Trust me, it is
,” Auggie huskily says in a deep voice. “And the need never really goes away. We hunt constantly. There are two types of men. One type is like your brother and father. The other type is like me and Kieren. The difference is that my type is broken into two parts: the protector and the predator. Kieren is the predator. His dad is trying to make sure Kieren stays off the playground. Now that Kieren is older, he’s stalking the fringes of the playground so he won’t get arrested.”

“I don’t ge
t it,” I mumble in confusion. “What does this have to do with a playground?” Mr. Kline’s full-bodied laugh fills the store.

“Ye
ah, you need a keeper.” He heavily sighs. “Kieren didn’t have a girlfriend in high school, right? He didn’t exclusively date the head cheerleader like every other quarterback in the history of our nation. No, Kieren had conquests- one girl after another, and they all had one thing in common… and once it was gone, Kieren was gone. His stalking ground is getting narrower and he will start doing bad things, and I don’t want you to be one of them.”