Page 56 of The Illicit Play
“Can you just give me a sec?” he says.
I’m two steps away from the door when a hand clamps around my arm. “I don’t think so, kid.”
“What?” I spin around, trying to wrench myself free of his viselike grip. “Get your hands off me.”
“I’m sick of you guys strolling in here and thinking you can just take off with my liquor!” he growls, completely unperturbed by my protests.
“I don’t have your liquor!” I shout back.
The old woman by the counter blinks at me in shocked surprise.
“I know you’ve got a bottle in your bag.” He glares at me. “I’m not stupid.” Yanking my arm, he drags me back toward the counter.
“Lemme go!” I snap.
“Not until I call the police. I’m sick of this happening.”
My insides flail, dread pooling in my stomach.
“I’m so sorry about this, ma’am.” He gives the woman an apologetic wince.
“No, it’s quite all right. You deal with this. I can wait.”
“No, no, no, wait! Please don’t call the police,” I rasp, pulling the bottle out of my bag and handing it to him. “Just take it back. I’ll go, and I promise never to come in here again.”
“Not a chance,” he growls, forcing me into a seat before pulling out his phone and dialing.
“No, sir, please!” I lurch forward, trying to make a quick run for it, but he grabs my jacket, pulling me back down with a thump.
The older woman moves in front of me, her sweet face now puckered into a disapproving frown.
“Shame on you,” she mutters softly, shaking her head and making me feel like shit.
Dammit!
“I’m sorry,” I start to blubber. “Please, I’m sorry. Please, please,pleasedon’t call the cops.” My voice hitches, panic racing through me so hard and fast I think I my pass out.
“You were trying to steal from me,” the man growls.
“I know. I know. And that is so wrong, and I’m sorry.” Tears burn my eyes. “I didn’t mean to do it. I’m just having a really shitty week, and I’m sorry. I’ll pay. I’ll pay you anything.”
He pauses, glaring down at me, his thumb hovering over his phone screen. Hope shimmers through my desperation, and I cling to it.
“Please.” I sit up, blinking at my tears. “I’ll give you any amount you want.” I look at the woman. “I’ll pay for your husband’s present! Please, just… please don’t send me to jail.” I whimper, pressing the back of my hand against my mouth, my entire body shuddering as I imagine myself handcuffed in the back of a police car.
With a heavy sigh, the man drops his phone on the counter and crosses his arms. “I can’t sell you alcohol. You’re underage.”
“I know,” I squeak. “That’s why I was trying to sneak out with it. I just needed something to take the edge off.”
The woman scoffs. “Drinking your problems away won’t solve anything, young lady.”
I close my eyes, covering my face with my hands and letting out another pitiful whimper.
This has got to be my lowest point ever, right?
With an angry huff, the man takes his sweet time trying to decide what to do with me. Then he finally gives me an alternative… and for a split second, I wonder if going to jail is a better option.
“I’m not letting you just walk out of here. You need to call someone who is old enough to purchase this bottle. They are going to come down here and collect you, and you are going to explain to them what you did. Then they are going to pay me, and you are never going to step foot in this place again. Okay?”
