Say the Word(124)

Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal, come to collect me.

Correction — to try to collect me. I wasn’t going without a fight.

My teeth sank into Smash-Nose’s palm with enough force I knew I’d broken the skin. I tasted the coppery tang of blood on my tongue even as his curse pierced the air.

“Fuck! You little bitch!” he howled, clutching his bleeding hand inside his uninjured fist. I paid him no attention as I turned and ran toward the counter, screaming as I went.

“Help! Mrs. Patel, call the police!”

I heard the Neanderthal close on my heels, his pounding footsteps chasing me through the store faster than I could run away. I rounded a wire shelf display filled with chips too fast and felt my toe catch on the bottom corner. Sailing into the air, I was perilous to stop the crash. On my way to the ground, I locked eyes with Mrs. Patel for a fraction of a second — not long enough to draw in a breath or brace myself for impact, not long enough to scream for help one last time or plead for intervention.

Just long enough to watch as she — my knight in shining purple sari — threw off that brown, crocheted blanket I’d always thought was terribly ugly, stood on trembling legs, and aimed a sleek, state-of-the-art, semi-automatic pistol at the men behind me. As I hit the ground, a dull ache spreading through my body from my battered knees and elbows, I heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

Mrs. Patel’s faintly accented voice, ringing with authority, along with the telltale click of her Glock as she cocked back the barrel.

“Leave Miss Lux alone! Get out of my store!”

I scrambled to my feet in time to see Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal freeze, eyeing the elderly woman skeptically. I could see them weighing the odds — how serious was this little old lady? Would she really shoot? Did she even know how to shoot?

I recognized the change in the Neanderthal’s eyes the moment he decided to risk it — his irises darkened as he edged closer to where I was standing with my body pressed tightly against the counter.

Apparently, Mrs. Patel recognized it too.

The shot rang out so loudly I jumped, a dull ring resounding in my ears as soon as the gun recoiled. I smelled the sharp sulfuric pungency of gunpowder in the air and watched in what felt like slow motion as a bag of Doritos on a shelf halfway between Smash-Nose and the Neanderthal blasted apart in an explosion of orange chips.

“That was a warning shot! Next time, I aim for you!” Mrs. Patel yelled, her arm steady as a sniper’s as she held the gun on their retreating backs while they ran for the exit.

“Don’t come back!” Mrs. Patel called, as the door swung closed behind them.

Once they were gone, a moment of total silence fell. I stared at Mrs. Patel in shock, unable to process what had just happened but knowing, without a doubt, that I owed this ornery old woman my life.

“You saved me,” I breathed, limping around the counter toward her.

Mrs. Patel exhaled deeply, dropped the gun on the countertop, and collapsed back into her armchair. When I reached her side, I placed one hand on her arm. “Are you okay?” I asked.

She tilted her weathered face up to look at me, her brown eyes shining with exhilaration even as her weak legs shook with overexertion. “I could use a scotch.”

I laughed lightly, reaching beneath the counter as I’d seen her do once before and pulling out a bottle and two short glass tumblers. Unscrewing the cap, I poured out two dollops of amber liquid, passed one glass to her, and clinked mine against it.

“Cheers,” I said. “To you, Mrs. Patel. You saved my life.”

“And to you, Miss Lux,” she muttered. “You always keep things interesting around here.”

We both smiled — well, I beamed and she kind of smirked, but I was still counting it — before sipping our scotch. As we set our empty glasses down on the countertop, the sound of approaching sirens became audible.

Hopefully, it wasn’t Officer Santos, reporting for duty. That would just be the cherry on top of a fantastic morning.

Not that it had all been bad.

Before my near-abduction, I’d been incandescent — practically levitating off the ground with sheer lightness of being. Waking up wrapped in the arms of the man you love will do that to you, I suppose. Even after he’d left for the office and I’d headed back to my apartment, in need of fresh clothes for work, my happy mood had lingered. In fact, I’d been in such a good mood, I’d decided only one thing could make it better: ice cream. Who cared that it was only seven in the morning?

Life was good.

I had a feeling my day was about to take a turn for the worse as soon as the door flung open and uniformed officers poured through the entryway, their guns drawn and their expressions solemn. I sighed and looked at Mrs. Patel — who’d just finished stashing the scotch back beneath the counter — as the officer in charge approached and asked if we were okay.

Bash was going to flip his lid when I told him about this.





***


Thankfully, the police interrogation was relatively brief. The officers were all extremely polite and efficient as they took our information, asking several times if I needed medical attention for my scraped knees. They confiscated the VHS tape recording from the store’s security camera and promised to be in touch soon with any leads, climbing back into their squad cars and vanishing into the flow of traffic within an hour.