brows puckering in concern. I managed to mouth back a, "later."
David, embarrassed by the whole thing, stood back while I gathered my personal belongings. Which weren't many. A couple of clipped cartoons, a pen I'd brought from home, two framed postcards of tropical islands that I'd never have the cash to actually visit.
Especially now that I was unemployed.
I heard Quinn ask David what was up. David went into the impression of a lovesick school boy that he always did around Quinn, and Quinn ate it up, flirting the way she always did around David. But I tuned them both out. I was still seething, the embarrassment slash anger thing turning into full blown pissed-off. How could the DM have sold me out like that? A woman even. What had all that crap about team players been at the sensitivity training? That's it, I was going to get a lawyer. A big, mean, pit bull of a lawyer and sue the whole damn L.A. Mu 'team'. Even the dancing cow!
Had I not been so intent plotting my revenge (and wondering where on earth I could scrape together the cash for a pit-bull lawyer), I might have noticed him sooner. As it was, I didn't even look up until he was already at my window.
He was average height, brown hair, wearing an Anaheim Angels baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His gym-made build was encased in a non-descript white T-shirt and worn jeans. My eyes lingered a moment on the jeans, tight in all the right places against the guy's fit form.
"Hi," he said.
I snapped my eyes back up to meet his. Blue. Really blue, like that fabled clear blue California sky that I'm told resides just above our smog layer. And they crinkled at the corners just a little. Like at any moment his rock-star gorgeous face might break out into a smile. I wracked my brain trying to think if I'd seen this guy on MTV recently.
"Hi," I said back. Odd. My voice had suddenly gone up about two octaves. I licked my lips.
"Could you help me…" he paused to read my name tag. "…Carrie?"
"I'd really love to…" Oh, boy, would I! "…but, I'm sorry this window is closed. If you'd like to step over to…"
But I trailed off as the man slid a piece of paper along the counter toward me. It read: Empty the drawer. Keep your hands where I can see them. I have a gun.
Oh. Shit.
I looked up at him. He was still doing that casual half smile thing, his blue eyes as friendly as if we were chatting over coffee.
I licked my lips again, my mouth dry for a whole new reason.
"Seriously?" I whispered.
His eyes crinkled more and he leaned in close. "Seriously," he whispered back, his voice low and deep. "So, go nice and slowly and just empty the drawer. Okay, Carrie?"
I nodded. Then took a deep breath, my hands starting to shake. I'd been warned about this sort of thing when I'd first been hired, but it hadn't actually happened until now. I tried to remember what the human resources lady had told me. Something about cooperating. Since the blue eyed man apparently had a gun, I was all for that course of action. I punched in my code to open the drawer.
"This has got to be the worst fricking day of my life," I mumbled under my breath. I glanced behind me, trying to catch David's eye. Unfortunately it was firmly rooted to Quinn's rising hemline as she leaned over to help a customer.
"Crack security team you have here." The man grinned, nodding toward David.
"L.A. Mu only hires the best."
"I liked the guy in the cow suit outside. Nice touch."
"Our manager has a thing for puns."
"So I noticed."
"Lousy sonofabitch."
He raised one eyebrow.
"Not you," I explained, remembering the gun. "The manager. He just fired me because he grabbed my ass."
"Hardly seems fair."
"Tell me about it."
"Maybe you should sue him," he offered.
"I was thinking the same thing," I said. I noticed he was oddly easy to talk to for a bank robber.
"I don't mean to cut this short, Carrie, but could you hurry up a little?"
My hands were shaking so badly I was having a hard time getting the cash out
David, embarrassed by the whole thing, stood back while I gathered my personal belongings. Which weren't many. A couple of clipped cartoons, a pen I'd brought from home, two framed postcards of tropical islands that I'd never have the cash to actually visit.
Especially now that I was unemployed.
I heard Quinn ask David what was up. David went into the impression of a lovesick school boy that he always did around Quinn, and Quinn ate it up, flirting the way she always did around David. But I tuned them both out. I was still seething, the embarrassment slash anger thing turning into full blown pissed-off. How could the DM have sold me out like that? A woman even. What had all that crap about team players been at the sensitivity training? That's it, I was going to get a lawyer. A big, mean, pit bull of a lawyer and sue the whole damn L.A. Mu 'team'. Even the dancing cow!
Had I not been so intent plotting my revenge (and wondering where on earth I could scrape together the cash for a pit-bull lawyer), I might have noticed him sooner. As it was, I didn't even look up until he was already at my window.
He was average height, brown hair, wearing an Anaheim Angels baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. His gym-made build was encased in a non-descript white T-shirt and worn jeans. My eyes lingered a moment on the jeans, tight in all the right places against the guy's fit form.
"Hi," he said.
I snapped my eyes back up to meet his. Blue. Really blue, like that fabled clear blue California sky that I'm told resides just above our smog layer. And they crinkled at the corners just a little. Like at any moment his rock-star gorgeous face might break out into a smile. I wracked my brain trying to think if I'd seen this guy on MTV recently.
"Hi," I said back. Odd. My voice had suddenly gone up about two octaves. I licked my lips.
"Could you help me…" he paused to read my name tag. "…Carrie?"
"I'd really love to…" Oh, boy, would I! "…but, I'm sorry this window is closed. If you'd like to step over to…"
But I trailed off as the man slid a piece of paper along the counter toward me. It read: Empty the drawer. Keep your hands where I can see them. I have a gun.
Oh. Shit.
I looked up at him. He was still doing that casual half smile thing, his blue eyes as friendly as if we were chatting over coffee.
I licked my lips again, my mouth dry for a whole new reason.
"Seriously?" I whispered.
His eyes crinkled more and he leaned in close. "Seriously," he whispered back, his voice low and deep. "So, go nice and slowly and just empty the drawer. Okay, Carrie?"
I nodded. Then took a deep breath, my hands starting to shake. I'd been warned about this sort of thing when I'd first been hired, but it hadn't actually happened until now. I tried to remember what the human resources lady had told me. Something about cooperating. Since the blue eyed man apparently had a gun, I was all for that course of action. I punched in my code to open the drawer.
"This has got to be the worst fricking day of my life," I mumbled under my breath. I glanced behind me, trying to catch David's eye. Unfortunately it was firmly rooted to Quinn's rising hemline as she leaned over to help a customer.
"Crack security team you have here." The man grinned, nodding toward David.
"L.A. Mu only hires the best."
"I liked the guy in the cow suit outside. Nice touch."
"Our manager has a thing for puns."
"So I noticed."
"Lousy sonofabitch."
He raised one eyebrow.
"Not you," I explained, remembering the gun. "The manager. He just fired me because he grabbed my ass."
"Hardly seems fair."
"Tell me about it."
"Maybe you should sue him," he offered.
"I was thinking the same thing," I said. I noticed he was oddly easy to talk to for a bank robber.
"I don't mean to cut this short, Carrie, but could you hurry up a little?"
My hands were shaking so badly I was having a hard time getting the cash out
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