Page 4 of Kings Don't Break
She can’t stand me either.
Good. Because I don’t like her anyway. We’ll never ever be friends…
KORINE
Twenty-two years later…
“Miss, has anyone ever told you you should model?” the sales clerk asks with a wide, welcoming smile. She holds up a bottle of foundation with one hand and flags me down from behind her make up counter with the other. “We’re offering a free item from our Bella Beauty line if you let us use you for a live make up demonstration.”
I flit by, clutching my purse and cursing my luck. “No thanks! I’m in a rush.”
“But, miss! This is an eighty dollar value—and that’s not counting the free make up demonstration by one of our most talented professional artists. We just need fifteen minutes of your time.”
“Can’t. Busy. Sorry!” I call from over my shoulder as I flee the scene.
I hop on the escalator and ride it all the way to the second floor of Keaton's department store. The home decor section is the first thing you see stepping off the escalator. Crystal vases sparkle under the store's fluorescent lighting and there’s a rainbow of throw pillows in every shape, size, and pattern. The clock aisle jumps out on the left, the many hands ticking away.
Just like the panic ticking inside my chest.
I take notice of the time glaring at me and mutter under my breath, "Please be ready. Please, please be ready."
Racing down the sales floor, weaving between customers browsing at their leisure, I practically break out into a run.
The tailor's station emerges among racks of men's suits and dress shirts. He looks up with his pointed glasses low on his nose, his hands fast at work with a measuring tape and scrap of fabric.
I'm panting by the time I skitter to a stop at his counter. "Hi..." I puff out, my brow shining with sweat. "I'm here for... to pick up... Friday at four.”
His thin lips quirk into a knowing smile. "Yes, Mrs. Stricklin. I'm aware why you're here. I was the one who took your order. You made it just in time. We close up in four minutes."
Thank you, sweet Jesus. Phew!
I can only mouth thank you as he turns away and rummages among a rack of assorted clothes. "Ah, here it is! A man's Dioni three-piece suit tailored to fit the measurements given.”
I tap Ken’s credit card to the card read machine and take the suit protected by pristine plastic covering with gleeful hands, feeling like I've just been given a lifeline.
"I presume this suit's for Mr. Stricklin," says the tailor. "He should be pleased with the fit."
My stomach clenches, cutting my glee short. "I really hope so. Thanks again."
I'm able to duck out of Keaton's with only two more salesclerks harassing me about special sales and offers. I dart straight to my dented and dinged Geo Metro in the crowded parking lot, blowing hair out of my face and jerking the key in the ignition.
Forty-five minutes left. I can still make magic happen.
"C'mon, c'mon," I mutter under my breath, encountering traffic.
Even merging onto the highway is a headache.
I slam my palm to my steering wheel, honking my horn at the indecisive car in front of me. They've got their blinker on, going forty in a sixty, driving so slow I'm not sure how we'll ever seamlessly merge. At least not before our lane runs out.
"You dumbass!" I growl. "That's not how you... ARGH!"
The car in front of me speeds up, then slams on their brake before doing the same thing all over again. We play this game to more frustration and swear words from me.
The truck behind me honks their horn as if I'm the problem.
I glance in the rearview and see an irate, middle-aged, red-faced man clenching his teeth. How he's pissed at me is beyond me. It's not like the car in front of me isn't the culprit!
The car comes to a complete stop rather than merge, causing me to smash my foot on my brake to avoid rear-ending them.
