Queen of the Night Read Free Page A

pull off this look.’
    The girl nods. I should change my job title to RetailPsychologist and get some impressive letters after my name. And a pay-rise. The not-many-people-can-work-this-look thing gets them every single time, not to mention the word ‘tiny’ in relation to any body part except boobs. The girl tears herself away from her reflection, her mind made up.
    ‘I’ll take it.’
    ‘Excellent choice.’
    I carry her bags down the stairs. On the ground floor Helen struggles with a late delivery, signing the invoice, counting the boxes and trying to get the storeroom door open all at the same time.
    I ring up the dress. ‘Seventy dollars.’ I subdue the JPD enough to fit it into a carry bag. Ruth slides behind me and puts the duster back underneath the counter.
    The girl hands me a gold credit card. Out of a lingering habit I’m trying really, really hard to break, I check the bank name on the front of the card, even though I haven’t seen another FutureBank card since that night in Shyness. But it’s just a regular old credit card for a runof-the-mill rich girl.
    I staple the receipts together and drop them in with the dress. ‘Enjoy.’
    ‘Thanks,’ the girl says, finally, and smiles, happy with her purchase. She looks almost sweet.
    Ruth leans on the counter next to me, and we watch the girl struggle out of the shop with her billion-and-one bags.
    ‘Turn that sign over!’ Helen calls from the depths of the storeroom. ‘I want to get out of here on time. I haven’t even cashed up yet.’
    ‘She bought the Princess Dress.’ Ruth sounds like she’s seen Jesus burnt into a piece of toast.
    ‘Uh-huh.’ I try not to sound smug. I sound extremely smug.
    ‘That’s exactly why I hired this girl.’ Helen backs out of the storeroom and squeezes my shoulder. ‘No retail experience, but I could tell straightaway she’s got the Midas touch. You two take off now. I’m nearly done here.’
    Ruth leaves to meet her boyfriend Duncan while I switch off the lights.
    ‘Oh, Nia, before you go.’ Helen is out of breath from moving the heavy boxes, her long dark hair mussed. ‘There’s a special customer coming in tomorrow, but I’m not sure what time. I’ve kept aside some things for her in this tub, okay?’
    ‘What does she specialise in?’
    ‘Anything black and funereal. She drops in every few months. Nice woman.’
    ‘Gotcha,’ I say.
    The sun is sinking by the time I walk down Mayfield Street. It’s the nicest part of the day when I finish, when the light is turning golden and soft, and the temperature has dropped enough to walk without sweating up a storm.I put my headphones in as I reach the station, relying on my music to keep the world at bay.
    The train rattles through the tunnel under the river and then shoots through the industrial zone towards Plexus. The Emporium is miles from my house. All up, it takes me about forty-five minutes one-way. Everyone in the carriage looks crumpled and tired and sweaty. A little kid starts to whine. I turn the volume higher, until guitars and synths fill my ears.
    I first heard Dreamer rock in this crazy underground club in Shyness, on the night I met Wolfboy. I still can’t think of him as Jethro. A couple of months ago curiosity got the better of me, and I hunted for some Dreamer rock, not even sure if it existed outside Shyness. Turns out there’s a whole world of it out there, online. Turns out I actually don’t mind the stuff. I downloaded the perfect soundtrack for the long commute. One good thing to come out of that night.
    I thought there would be more. I wouldn’t have said that about an ordinary one-night hook-up, but nothing about that night was ordinary. Not meeting Wolfboy, not getting mugged by the Kidds, not breaking into Orphanville to get his brother’s lighter back, not the rooftop showdown with the creepy Doctor Gregory. Not the feeling that we were just two stars in the endless night sky, as dazzling and dwarfed and stupendous and