Page 19 of Mercy & Malice

10

BROOKE

This morning when I woke up in his bed, I had no question that last night happened and I didn’t imagine that he’s back. Now, I still know it wasn’t a dream, but it’s beginning to feel that way. He hadn’t been home at all before I left for work. Thankfully, most of my day was busy, so I was able to keep my mind off Micah. However, since no one in New Orleans wants to buy ice cream from Sweet Fleur Creamery at the moment, I’m stuck between replaying our conversation last night and trying to play out how the next one will go in my head. I doubt Micah will follow any script I conjure up in my mind.

Busying myself, I start restocking the coolers then wipe down the counters and display freezer. Once that’s done, I take Edmund up on his offer and get a scoop of chocolate chip cookie dough then add some extra cookie dough bites on top. I get to enjoy two whole bites before a troll walks in.

Julian motions around the empty lobby, “Scared everyone off with that enchanting personality of yours?”

“We’re closed,” I state.

He looks at his phone then towards the door. “According to the window and website, you’re open until ten. So, that means I have about an hour to savor my favorite flavor.”

Ugh. The grin on his face is nauseating along with his suggestive tone. “You won’t be savoring anything here. Get out.”

“You’re open for business. And I’m a paying customer.”

I point over my shoulder. “We reserve the right to refuse service. Leave.” It’s the first time I’ve ever denied anyone, but I know Edmund will understand. I’ll slide in a few dollars in the register from my tips to cover whatever the dickwad would’ve purchased. It’s worth the sacrifice to get him out of my sight.

Julian steps to the counter, leaning towards me. “You can’t refuse me. There’s something inside you that’s begging to satisfy me. So, I’ll have a scoop of cherry with nuts on top.”

The way he looks at me makes me squirm internally, but I keep a steady glare trained on him. Julian has always gotten off on being a tyrant. Apparently, things that his daddy’s money can’t buy really piss him off. He’s literally the picture of a rich, preppy douche in the boat shoes, khaki shorts, and tucked-in polo with the collar standing up.

“Either get lost or I’m calling the cops.”

He snickers, propping his elbow on the display freezer. “But will you really call them? Doubt you’d want Daddy to stop by. You’re probably safer with me.”

It’s getting harder to keep the fury off my face. Not many know the details of Dad’s abusive behavior, but after the attack on my mom and her leaving Dad, a lot of people put it together. Particularly since Mom’s shown up at work over the years with broken bones, bruises, and stitches that were explained away as mishaps and her being accident prone. I haven’t denied or confirmed anyone’s suspicions, and I sure as hell won’t when the jerk in front of me is the one on a fishing excursion.

“I won’t tell you again.” When he doesn’t move, I pick up my phone and wait a few seconds. He smiles, the challenge in his eye unwavering; he doesn’t think I’ll make the call. But it’s not a bluff. I need this jerk face out of my sight like yesterday.

As soon as I dial the number, I put it on speaker as the dispatcher answers. His amusement wanes, but it’s when I say, “There’s a person refusing to leave at Sweet Fleur Creamery.” I recite the address, give them a detailed physical description, then inform them of his full name. “He’s been asked to leave several times.”

“Fucking bitch,” he mumbles as he finally walks out.

Once the door shuts behind him, I hurry in that direction and twist the lock, then inform the dispatcher, “He finally left. You don’t need to send an officer.”

They probably wouldn’t have anyways, a nonemergency is a nonemergency, and they have plenty of other calls to get to before dealing with Prick Not-So-Charming over here.

I start picking the chairs up and flipping them on top of the tables when there’s a knock on the door. I jump so bad that I knock over a chair with another as they tumble to the floor.

There’s a couple standing there. The lady gives me a yikes face as I unlock the door and she says, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are y’all closed already? I had a late-night craving.” She pats her expanded belly.

“No, ma’am. Come on in.” I wipe my palms down my apron as I hurry behind the counter. “What can I get for you?”

She orders a waffle cone with two different flavors and a mix of three toppings, and her husband says he doesn’t want anything. They leave as soon as they’re paid up, so I follow behind them and lock the door. Julian usually doesn’t put me this on edge. I don’t think it’s just him though. Maybe it’s a combo of everything.

Grabbing my purse from under the counter, I shove the pepper spray that Mawmaw gave me in my pocket. A smile comes to my face thinking about her solution when I told her I wasn’t supposed to have it before I was eighteen. She gave me a can of wasp spray and told me to keep it handy. It’s not like I could stuff it in my purse, so I just slipped the pepper spray in my purse and hoped I wouldn’t get caught with it.

When it’s officially time to close, I have the pepper spray ready and head out to my car. I really should’ve taken Ivy up on her offer to come and hang out.

Clicking my key fob, I unlock my doors, but I stop just short because my driver’s side front tire is flat.

“What the hell?” I search around, but there’s no sign that anyone is nearby. A spare is in my trunk, but no way am I changing it right now.

Heading back towards the shop, I grab my phone and go to dial Ivy. But that’s when I see him. Julian is between me and the entrance.

I hold my hand up, aiming the pepper spray at him. “Stay the fuck away from me.”