Friend-Zoned(2)

I look through the shop window, past the mannequins and my heart stutters. This is not the first time I’ve noticed him. And Mimi is right.

He is fine.

Super fine.

So fine he should be on a billboard or a book cover somewhere. But something about him bothers me.

***

Two weeks earlier…

Great. Just great.

A traffic jam and I have approximately six minutes to open the store. No way am I going to get there on time and this ticks me off. I open the store at nine a.m. and pretty often there are already customers waiting for me.

Ten minutes later I have my car parked at a public parking spot because I can never get a space by my store and I don’t have parking spaces under or behind the building. I’ve tried taking the bus a few times but found I value my sleep too much to get up an hour earlier than I have to if I take my car.

Four customers are waiting on me. Three of them are smiling when they see me running towards them. One of them is scowling at me and it makes her pretty face oh-so ugly.

“I am so sorry. There is a traffic jam down the street and I was stuck. I hope you haven’t been waiting long.” I unlock the door and they follow me inside.

I open the staff room door, literally throw my bag onto the kitchenette counter, and run back to the register to log on.

The scowling woman is waiting for me.

I smile and say, “Good Morning. My name is Tina. How can I help you today?”

She flicks her nails at a garment on the counter and replies, “This dress is awful.”

She has a great Jersey accent.

My smile falters and I respond, “I’m so sorry you don’t like it.” I’m trying to be sympathetic but it’s kind of hard when she’s looking at me like I forced her to buy it.

Her elbow is resting on the counter, she looks closely at her nails and says, “Yeah, well, I wanna refund.”

I look closely over the fabulous dress, smile and say, “Okay, let me see what I can do.” The tags have been removed and there are stains on the hem.

Uh oh. Great.

Shit just got serious.

I hate confrontations; they give me hives.

I clear my throat and say, “This dress has been worn ma’am. I can’t give you a refund or exchange. I’m sorry but our policies are clear. They’re on the walls and receipt.”

Her scowl re-appears. She would be so pretty if she smiled.

She leans forward and hisses right in my face, “This is BULLSHIT! That dress cost me THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS!” I know this. The dress is one of our most expensive pieces and is fab-U-lous. I really want to ask her if her daddy actually bought it but she continues. “It looks like a goddamn potato sack!”#p#分页标题#e#

I feel the flush rising up my neck and I so badly want to scratch at it. I say quietly, “Like I said ma’am, there’s nothing I can do.”

Her lip curls and she spits, “I wanna speak to a manager.”

I nod and respond, “I am the manager.”

She smiles almost cruelly and says, “Then I wanna speak to the owner.”

I stare her right in the eyeball and I’m thankful none of my girls are working.

I say in a firm voice, “I am the owner.”

Her face shifts into something even uglier than her scowl. I don’t know how to describe it, but if looks could kill, I’d be six feet under. She snatches the dress out of my hands and storms out of my store.

Rawr Raaawr.

Damn it.

Crap! Forgot to get batteries for the doorbell. Again.

I look out the window past the mannequins, and the She-Devil is walking across the street to a man standing with his back to me. He looks big. Not fat but built. She-Devil talks a mile a minute pointing towards Safira. The man is obviously talking back to her because she stops talking and starts pouting. Then she stomps her foot. Yes, actually stomps her foot and pushes her chest out while pouting up at his face. I can almost hear her whining. She walks off and the man turns towards Safira and shakes his head slowly. What a spoiled brat!

It takes me a second to notice the man.

Oh. My. God.

Angels must have broken out in song when this man was born. I feel like breaking out in song.

He is so handsome.

I’ll admit I can’t see his face very well from across the street but I can see enough of it to see he is hot. As in hawt. And the rest of him is just as impressive. He’s tall, probably 6’2” or 6’3”, and has gorgeous olive-toned skin. He’s dressed in suit pants and a shirt. He has broad shoulders and great arms; I can tell from the muscle definition I can see through his shirt. He has a face made of straight angles and his lips have a natural pout to them. His hair is styled in a masculine faux hawk, shaved at the sides, longer on top, and spiked up and to the left side of his head. I can’t see his eye color from where I am, though.