Saving Savannah - A Reverse Harem Romance, page 4
“You sure?” he asked, taking another step forward. He glanced skeptically around at the empty store, his eyes lingering on the barren shelves. “Because it doesn’t look like you’ve done anything, really.”
“Not in here yet, no.”
“And why not?”
My jaw tightened. “Maybe because people keep interrupting me?”
Gus hesitated for a moment, then grinned through lips that were cracked and chapped. The smile he returned was crooked, like he could appreciate the jab.
“Alright, then fine,” he sighed, his eyes going over my shoulder. “Because if you were thinking of staying here—”
“Church Street.”
My landlord blinked at the interruption. “What?”
“That’s where I’m staying. I have a loft apartment on Church Street.”
His eyes narrowed again, even more than last time. “Really?” He cocked his head. “Because it’s expensive over there, no?”
“It all depends.”
“Where on Church Street?”
I opened my mouth for a second and then closed it, before shifting uncomfortably. The last thing I was doing was giving this creep my actual address.
“Did you need something?” I deflected, crossing my arms. “Because the morning’s slipping away and I was just about to get some work done.”
“We gotta talk,” said Gus.
“About what?”
“Rent.”
“But we’ve already established rent.”
“Yeahhh…” he allowed slowly. “To a degree. However—”
“And I’m paid up for the next three months,” I interjected.
Gus didn’t answer immediately. Instead he stood there, looking weird and wiry. He looked like he needed a shower. And a makeover. Or at the very least, an eyebrow trim.
Now it was my turn to frown.
“Gus, what the—”
DING!
Two people entered the shop, stopped short, and looked around. Upon seeing it utterly empty, they apologized and saw themselves out.
Now I was definitely in for some bad luck.
“Look, can we do this another time?” I snapped. “I’m not even close to set up yet. You’re costing me money.”
I think it was the last line that caused Gus to finally relent. My landlord’s shoulders slumped a little, and he shuffled back toward the doorway.
“We’ll talk about this another day then,” he said, as if the idea were somehow all his. “Soon.”
The bells jingled again noisily as he pushed his way out the door.
“Can’t wait,” I mumbled after him.
Ten
SAVANNAH
It took the next two days to set up. Long days. Sweaty days too, because somehow the storefront I’d rented seemed to be more of an oven than an actual workplace, despite the chilly fall temperatures lurking just outside.
I got it done, though. Everything set in its proper place. Well, almost everything. The monster armoire left behind by the previous tenant loomed like a giant in the center of the back wall, when I would’ve much rather had it caddy-cornered to one side.
The more I looked at it, the more it bothered me. The thing was intrusive where it was. I wanted it out of there. I wanted it moved.
Moved, huh?
My stomach went tight, then did a little somersault. I could call them, right? I mean… I had their numbers.
No.
The voice in my head was firm this time. Telling me in no uncertain terms that I’d already had my fun.
Clean slate, remember?
Maybe. I mean, that’s what I’d told myself a thousand times. Yet the colossal armoire was still there, staring back at me smugly. Probably laughing.
“I could call one of them,” I said aloud, to my empty shop. “Right?”
No one answered. Not even the voice in my head.
But which one?
The idea of dialing one of the numbers in my phone sent a shiver of excitement bolting through me. Whether or not it was right or wrong.
Fuck.
I pulled out my phone. Looked at it. Punched the little button at the bottom, to bring up the main screen.
Calling one of the guys sounded within the scope of reason, suddenly. But which one would I call? The last thing I wanted to do was play favorites.
They didn’t leave names. Remember?
Shit, that was even better. I could just call the first number, Hunk1. Whoever it was could help me move this monstrosity. The others couldn’t even be jealous, because it was totally anonymous.
I punched up my contact list, which was extremely anemic. It took all of one second to find the guys, especially since I only had a half dozen contacts.
Just do it already.
My thumb hovered over the button. It was a can of worms. A very hot, delicious can of worms, but a can of worms nonetheless…
BANG! BANG BANG!
A sudden pounding at the front door nearly caused me to jump out of my skin! I fumbled the phone into the air, bobbled it a few times, then caught it somehow in my other hand.
What the hell?
There was a woman at my door. Or rather, she’d moved to one of my windows now. She had one grubby hand up against the glass, and was shielding her eyes to peer inside. The same glass I’d just spent a half hour meticulously cleaning…
“WE’RE CLOSED!” I shouted, loud enough to penetrate the old window. Then, in a much lower voice, “You’d think you could read the fucking sign?”
The woman banged again of course, and now I was pissed. Not only couldn’t she read, but she’d just blown away any courage I’d been working up to dial one of the hunks.
I stormed over, undid the latch, and threw open the door. Before I could even open my mouth to tell her I wasn’t in business just yet, she was already pushing her way past me and glancing around.
I was incredulous. This woman had to be sixty, dressed all in purple and gold. She wore a tear-drop beaded headband, with big chandelier earrings dangling from her ears. There had to be at least one jeweled ring on every finger. She rounded out the look by caking on tons of makeup, especially around her eyes.
“Hmmph.”
The sound she grunted up from her throat wasn’t good. Neither was her expression.
“Where’d you get all this?”
I wanted to laugh at her. Scream at her. Drag her back out into the street by her stupid, ridiculous earrings. Instead, I only matched her disapproving look with one of my own.
“Who the hell are you?” I snapped.
“A local,” the woman snarled. “That’s who I am.” Her hands slid to her hips as she looked me up and down, frowning. “Someone who lives here and thrives here. Unlike you.”
I laughed in her face. “And how would you know who I—”
“How’d you get this place?” the woman barked.
I answered before I even realized I didn’t have to. “I paid for it.”
Her mouth split in a snarl of contempt. “Yeah, honey. I’m sure you did.”
My blood boiled. It was the first time in my life I actually knew the meaning of the phrase.
“Alright, you’ve had your fun. It’s time to go.”
I reached out for her elbow, but the woman pulled away. It was probably a bad idea to begin with. The second I touched her, she’d probably fling herself to the floor of my shop and claim I pushed her down.
“You might not understand things now,” she warned, stepping in the direction of the exit. “But you will.”
“Is that a threat?” I seethed.
Smiling glibly, the woman shrugged one shoulder. “Take it however you like.”
I stormed at her, suddenly past caring about the legal repercussions. She must’ve seen it in my eyes, because she hurried back through the doorway.
“Stay the fuck out of my shop!” I called after her, and a little too loudly. A few passersby glanced curiously in my direction, saw my expression, and immediately looked away.
Making friends! I laughed to myself. Fresh start.
I stood there for a moment, taking a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I was too pissed off to go back inside and do any work right now. And I was hungry, too. Almost ravenous. I hadn’t eaten all day.
You’re hangry.
Pulling the keys from my pocket, I locked the door and made my way into the crowd. This time I followed my nose. I let it guide me past dessert carts and a gourmet pretzel stand, toward the more substantial food at the other end of the brick-paved avenue.
The whole time, I kept my eyes peeled. There was no sign of the old woman with the crazy earrings, and that was good. In my current mood I’d probably trip her.
By the time my feet stopped moving I was standing in front of a tiny silver cart with a blue umbrella. The man standing beside it was selling some kind of spiced meat on a stick.
“You want?”
I nodded mechanically. I didn’t even know what I was ordering, but it smelled absolutely incredible.
“Good, good!” the man smiled. “I get you a—”
“You don’t want that.”
The voice came from behind me, low and breathless. Just inches away from my ear. I spun around so fast, my hair whipped the voice’s owner in the face.
I looked up, and my mouth opened in surprise…
“C’mon,” said Zane, flashing me a big white smile. He slid his hand into mine. “Let me show you where to eat around here without getting poisoned…”
Eleven
ZANE
She was adorable, standing there in the middle of the swirling crowd. Long locks of her gorgeous red hair spilling everywhere, as she reached for what amounted to botulism on a stick.
I just couldn’t let her do it.
I pulled her away, enjoying the warmth of her hand in mine. How perfectly it seemed to fit. How soft and pliant it was against my calloused palm, as the meat vendor shot me a very disappointed and angry parting look.
“Zane!”
Even her voice was beautiful. Soft and feminine, like every one of her curves.
“W—What are you doing here?”
“Saving you,” I answered. “From a really bad lunch.”
I pulled her along, weaving my way through the crowd. I couldn’t believe it was actually her. That somehow, against all odds, I’d spotted her in this crazy sea of people.
And yet, it was impossible not to notice her. If there was one thing this girl did well, it was stand out among a crowd.
I found the vendor I wanted, in the long line of steaming food trucks. It took only a moment to catch Tommy’s eye. I held up two fingers and slid him a twenty. He grinned, and much to the dismay of his line of waiting customers, handed me two sandwiches in return.
“What are those?” asked Savannah.
“Meatball subs,” I said, smacking my lips. “Best you ever tasted.”
The nearby cluster of tables were hopelessly full. Instead I led her off to one side, where we were at least out of the main crowd. I was halfway done unwrapping my sandwich when she laid a delicate hand over mine.
“C’mon,” she said, nodding over one shoulder. “We’ll eat this back in my shop.”
I blinked in surprise. “Your shop?”
“Yes,” she smiled. “It’ll be quiet there, trust me.” Then, after looking me up and down: “I even have a job for you.”
I laughed. “But I already have a job.”
I held up my pamphlets, of which I’d only handed out about half so far. She glanced at them curiously, then pulled me back in the other direction.
“This job should only take a minute.”
Now it was her turn to pull me through the crowd, and she did a surprisingly good job. She stepped neatly and confidently, like she was used to it. Wherever she’d come from, I could tell she’d definitely lived in a city setting before.
Eventually we stopped before a nondescript storefont, in a busier section of the street fair. The door was locked though. Savannah opened it with a key, and secured it behind her.
I took three or four steps into the empty shop, then stopped dead in my tracks.
“Whoa…”
Everything was decorated in an explosion of patterns and color. There were elaborate tapestries, depicting everything from peacocks to sun and moon themes. A comfortable-looking couch rested along the side wall, with pillows in a dozen patterns.
I saw intricately-carved latticework, adorning the crown mouldings. Elaborate mandalas. A beautiful folding screen divided the main floor from a tiny shop area, where the walls were lined with fully-stocked shelves. Shelves full of trinkets and beads and all sorts of other—
“You’re a fortune teller?” I exclaimed, incredulously.
Savannah jerked a thumb over her shoulder, to where a large parchment diagram of an open hand hung on one wall. The hand was cut with a series of lines, and labeled in two dozen places.
“More of a palm reader,” she corrected me. “Mostly though, I do tarot card readings.”
My eyes followed hers, to where a small mahogany table sat centered in the middle of a stunning Persian rug. Two chairs stood on opposite sides; one for her, the other presumably for the customer.
“Oh man,” I said excitedly. “Do me.”
She smirked at my choice of words, and I went a little red myself. I held my hand out, palm open.
“C’mon,” I said. “Read my palm.”
Savannah looked at me funny, then crossed her arms. She looked hesitant, if not downright standoffish.
“What?”
“Are you making fun of me?”
“No!” I protested. “Not at all!”
“You sure?”
“Of course not,” I said, sliding into one of the chairs. “I totally believe in this stuff.” I shrugged. “Sorta.”
My last word elicited a welcome chuckle. “Totally sorta, huh?”
“Yeah well, I really don’t have much experience with it. I mean… I’ve never had my palm read before. Or gotten tarot carded.”
“Carded?” she laughed. “It’s not like you’re buying alcohol.”
“You know what I mean.”
She grinned, and the smile made her face even more beautiful. I couldn’t help but think about our night together. All of us. Back in her apartment…
“Do me a favor,” she said, without sitting. “You see that armoire over there?”
I sure did. The thing was a total monster.
“Help me move it,” she said. “I hate where it is.”
“Okay.”
“You do that,” she winked, “and I’ll read your palm for you.”
I scratched absently at the back of my head. “Maybe I want the card thing.”
“Fine. That too.”
My eyes met hers, blue on green. They danced together for a silent beat.
“What else could I get?” I flirted.
Savannah turned, inadvertently showing me her best assets. When she caught me staring, she rolled her eyes.
“Just move the damned armoire,” she said. “And we’ll figure it out.”
I nodded firmly. “Yes ma’am.”
It took her a minute or two to clear a path, moving some of her inventory out of the way. I could see little figurines. Tiny bells. A rainbow-colored display of crystals in a whole array of shapes and sizes. Some had been wire-wrapped, and fashioned into pendants or earrings. Others were much too large for that.
Eventually, I got into position. Bending my knees, I grabbed the base of the tremendous cabinet and lifted with all my might. The armoire shook, shuddered, then lifted about an inch off the floor…
Then my grip slipped, and I had to set it back down again.
“No way,” I grunted, shaking my head. “It’s too big. Too clunky.”
Savannah’s expression was a mixture of disappointment and understanding. “I was afraid of that.”
“I need my lifting straps,” I said. “And Erik. Maybe even Roman.” I flashed her a grin. “Sorry, but you might have to see all three of us again.”
She pulled her hair back over one ear and stared up at me. Since my last statement, I noticed her skin had flushed a little bit redder than before.
“But for now,” I said, holding up our two sandwiches. “We eat!”
Twelve
SAVANNAH
My beautiful mahogany reading table doubled as a handy lunch space, as we sat facing each other in my cozy shop. Zane inhaled his sandwich, then ate half of mine. It was every bit as good as he’d boasted it to be, it was just way too big.
“So… what are those?”
I pointed to the thick stack of pamphlets sticking out from the pocket of his leather jacket. He pulled one out and handed it to me.
“See for yourself.”
It took me a moment to fold it open and scan its contents. My mouth split wide in a huge grin.
“You do ghost tours?”
“Haunted tours of Salem, yeah,” he said proudly. “It’s my second job. More of a hobby that pays, really. I love doing them.”
“Holy shit.”
“Of course I can’t do them every night,” he said. “What with the moving job and all that. But during this time of year, especially? I make a pretty good buck.”
I looked closer, reading about some of the things included on one of Zane’s tours. He stopped at Salem’s most haunted spots: the Witch House, the Lyceum, the Hawthorne hotel. A few random murder sites, thrown in for flavor. He ended it at Murphy’s pub, which I’d already heard had been haunted. But I was pretty sure he ended it there for the kickbacks, as well.
“So that’s what you were doing outside? Passing these out?”
He nodded, dabbing at his perfect mouth with the corner of his napkin.
“This is pretty fucking cool,” I said, handing it back to him.
“Glad you think so,” he smiled happily. “So when are we going?”
“Going where?”
“Well you read my palm, or my cards, or whatever, and I’ll take you on a private tour.”
“So quid pro quo, huh?” I chuckled.
