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She still smelled like bagels and lime soda as she led me around the store. Her palm, sweating against mine.
I wore my hood up, as always, and she didn’t question it, probably assuming it was some way of keeping any drafts from my fucked-up ears.
Her free hand held the front of her sweats. They were eager to slip down her ass and expose it to the world. That would be a problem for me. The jealousy would have me rock hard in seconds. The perving eyes, because women like Cat pulled attention from everywhere, would make me ache until I was sore and had no choice but to sneak off somewhere quietly, pull out my cock and ease my suffering.
The men eyeing her from the other side of the road as she’d stepped down from my truck with a little hop were the reason I was already walking around this store with a semi.
The store sold a little of everything. Posters surrounded us, and one in particular had me deflating quickly.
“The Voodoo Dolls.” Cat’s hand slipped from mine to finger the vinyl life-size poster. “Is this gothic glam?”
She admired the outfits of the women, who all managed to make themselves look classy and slutty all at once.
“I guess.” I shrugged beneath my hood. I led her from the poster before she could flip through its companions and find one of me.
I positioned her in front of something she might have more interest in.
A pink camera caught her eye, and after a wary look from her and one of encouragement from beneath my hood, she let go of my hand to take a better look.
A cashier in the distance dealt with a group of overly giggly girls in their early twenties. Girls, I wanted to stay as far away from as possible. Their high-pitched giggles vibrated over to me from across the aisles. My eyes were on them. The words were obvious but muffled as they chirped about my upcoming concert, too fucking loudly, while holding a poster of me.
Thank fuck, Cat was still fidgeting with the camera, pressing buttons, and popping the battery case. My eyes drifted from her and back to the register. I watched as the girls mentioned my name and the gig in the same sentence. I was almost ready to march over there and demand they shut up so Cat didn’t hear anything I wouldn’t want her to.
I didn’t hear the squeaky shoes padding the floor behind me, but I felt the annoying finger that dug into my skin through my clothes.
“Yes,” I said, my head turning only slightly.
“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t allow hoods in here.”
“Well, I’m not going to steal anything if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Yes, while that may be true, I do not know for sure.” The man talked like no reason would be good enough. That everything—and I do mean everything—had to be by his damn rule book.
What I knew for sure was this guy wasn’t going away.
“I’ll be right back, little nightmare.”
Her eyes followed my single step before I retreated to her. My hands grasped her shoulders carefully because of her stitches and the pain surrounding them.
“I won’t leave the store.”
She nodded, her hair sticking to my body through static electricity.
“Stay where I can see you,” was my only request before placing a kiss on her temple, near a yellowing bruise, and then walking off.
“Look.” My concealed eyes dropped to the name tag clipped on the chest of a checkered shirt.
Danial.
My stomach rolled, my eyes, too.
That explained why he was an asshole, I guess. Maybe all Danials were.
My manager back in the day had the same name. It was just spelled differently. Thoughts of him brought anger to the surface, and I felt it spread across my face in a flush.
“Can you make an exception regarding the hood, Danial?” My tone had a touch too much bite. “I want her to have a nice day, and that will not be possible if I take down the hood.”
“And why is that exactly?”
