My eyes darted to the velvet satchel again. Putting the box aside, I dug into the bag. My fingertips brushed a hard edge. Eagerly, I tugged a piece of paper into view.
It was crisp, heavy card stock. My heart was doing its best impression of a drum-line as I opened the note. Curled, handwritten ink rolled before me.
The note was short, and I read it with prickles sprouting along my spine.
Dear Pet,
I hope you enjoy these. I'm picturing them now, clasped on your lovely ears, just begging for me to stroke them and make you whimper.
The green will draw every eye to you... but won't they be jealous, once they realize you're already claimed?
—S
I breathed in sharply—I'd forgotten I needed air.
Pet? S?
No, this was all a mistake. The wrong address, for sure. The earrings were for someone worth courting, and unless I was crazy, the vibe of the letter screamed 'sex' and 'kink.'
My life experiences pushed me far out of the kinky club. Hell, almost out of the sex club, too. Though I was twenty-three, I hadn't been in a serious relationship in forever—a fact my lovely mother liked to remind me of each time we spoke. Virgin? Oh, no. But I was close, and if it was possible to become one again, the way your piercings sometimes grew back over?
I'd be a virgin reborn by now.
Puffing air through my lips, I sank into my couch. The earrings taunted me, reminding me of everything I didn't have. Whoever this 'Pet' was, she had a rich admirer. But good for her, I mused sullenly. She's probably a hot, confident girl to draw this kind of attention.
The last guy I went out with tried to hold my hand at the end of the night.
I'd run away like a freak and never called him back.
My co-worker, Laralie, had set me up with the guy. When she heard that I slammed my door in his face, she'd thrown a magazine at me. She kept telling me to take initiative... to be more trusting, less scared of the world.
It was impossible to explain to her why I couldn't do that.
People say your scars heal with time. I think they just grow deeper, like tree roots.
Shaking myself, I reached for the jewelry. I froze in mid-movement, dropping my hands to squeeze my knees and drum my fingers.
Was it terrible that I wanted to hold the earrings again? Just to feel them?
It wasn't so bad, right?
Glancing around, as if someone could see inside my apartment, I groaned. Don't be so pathetic. Just put everything in the box and... My thoughts ended abruptly. What was I supposed to do? There was no return address, no way to send this gift off to the right person.
I didn't even know how it had gotten in my mailbox. Could you send mail without an address? Did someone at the post office mess things up, sticking this package in my locker and calling it a day?
There were so many questions that I had. One of them chewed at me extra fiercely:
I wonder how the earrings would look on me?
Slapping my cheeks quickly, I jumped to my feet. “Nope,” I said to the room. “I'm not doing that. Bad idea. Think about something else.” Spinning, I paced across the scratched up floorboards.
On the one hand, I could just keep the gift, but that felt all kinds of shady. On the other hand... doing the right thing was pretty impossible. Tomorrow, I'd just have to ask the people at the post office which of them had put the gift in my mail slot. Surely, someone had seen this 'S' or whoever.
If I reasoned it out, I could picture the scenario. The mystery man had gone to the counter, asked to have the box put in someone's locker... and the worker had slipped up and put it in mine, instead of this 'Pet' person's.
Breathing out, I slumped where I stood. It made so much sense. Not only that, but it gave me a solution.
Turning, I scooped up the earrings and dumped them in the bag, then added it and the letter to the box. My re-taping was a little shoddy, but it would suit.
By tomorrow, I'd be able to walk away from this mess.
- Chapter Two -
Alexis
“Hello again,” I said brightly. I pushed the box onto the counter, meeting the eyes of the female employee from yesterday.
Her frown said she remembered me.
“This might sound weird,” I said, “But someone accidentally put this into my mail.” I nudged the box again. “Could you take this and deliver it to who it was meant for?”
She lowered her eyebrows, pursing her lips for a long minute. “If you want something delivered, it needs an address on it.”
“No, I know that.” Waving my hands side to side, I tried to look friendlier. “I'm saying someone put this in my mail, when it doesn't even have an address.”
The woman, whose name tag read 'Betty,' squinted closer at the little box. “Huh. Well that's not standard practice at all.”
Nodding patiently, I tapped the counter with emphasis. “Right! Standards. So someone who works here took this from some guy, and then put it in the wrong place.”