Page 12 of Business or Pleasure

Dammit.

I wanted to tell him I was working and that he had to leave, but I knew my father well enough to know he wasn’t going anywhere until he’d said what he’d come to say.

“All right,” I agreed. “But I only have a few minutes before I have to get back to actual work.”

He nodded and gave me that same charming smile that saved him so often. Growing up, I always tried to earn that smile by being a good girl and thanking him when he brought me presents on Christmas and my birthday. Then, later, I did my best learning from him, imitating him, trying to be just like him–

I gave myself a mental shake and pushed the past back where it belonged.

I motioned for him to step off to the side with me. “What is it?”

“Have you been working here for a long time?”

I crossed my arms and didn’t bother to disguise my disbelief. “Really? You could track me down but not find out how long I’ve worked here?”

I don’t know why I bothered asking. My father had always behaved like a man who could have whatever he wanted, and occasionally, he got it in his head that we needed to talk, and that always had to be on his terms.

“I don’t remember you reading comic books when you were little.”

It was hard for me to resist the urge to ask him how much he remembered about me before Mom died, but I had no intention of dragging out his visit by arguing with him.

“If you want to talk about my reading habits or hobbies, we can do it when I’m not at work.” There was a snowball’s chance in hell I would meet him voluntarily, but I didn’t mind lying to him. He was the one who taught me how to do it so well.

He scratched the back of his head—the first tell I’d ever learned—and said, “I just wondered if you could tell me what comics a guy gets if he’s looking to invest. I assume it’s the ones worth a lot of money, you know?”

My eyes narrowed. I knew that look on my father’s face, the tone in his voice. He was up to something.

“You’re getting into collecting?”

“I’m thinking more like getting some to sell and make some quick cash.”

A glance over my shoulder said that we had eyes on us, which meant I couldn’t just tell him to go to hell.

“Comics rarely have that fast of a turnaround.”

“C’mon, Harlee.” He tried turning on the charm. “It’d be a great score, and we could split it. Your inside knowledge. My skills. It’d be a piece of cake, like old times.”

“Not interested.” I risked another look back and lowered my voice even more. “I told you, I’m not doing that shit anymore.”

“Fine. If you won’t help me…” my father muttered as he turned around and marched out.

Yet another great talk with my father.

* * *

Today just sucked.

After my dad tried getting me to steal from my employer, my co-worker treated me to a boring lecture about people making comics political. Finally, after two hours, I had enough, and I told Lester he needed to educate himself on comics before spewing any more bullshit at me. That hadn’t sat well with him. He called me bitch and several other names, which I will not repeat. He told me that the only place a girl like me should be in a place like this was on her knees.

I went out front and asked Wells to switch with me. If I had to spend one more minute with Lester, I would need help hiding his body. Wells hadn’t minded and was now working inventory in the back while I held down the fort upfront.

It was slow going in the store, but then something caught my attention.

If those two teenage boys put those comics down their pants, I would kick their asses.

I sighed and pushed off the counter. No, I wouldn’t kick their asses, no matter how much I wanted to. Jailhouse orange wasn’t a good look on me. Besides, they were still kids. They deserved a second chance. I knew that all too well.

What I could do, however, was scare them a bit. I waited until the tallest was just about ready to tuck a copy of Deadpool into the front of his pants.

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