Page 133 of Broken Omega

I walk around as if I know what I’m looking for, and the sales assistant ignores me. She looks like she’s nursing a hangover, not even attempting to be discreet with the chain-store coffee cup she’s drinking from. I feel kind of sorry for her. I remember working retail. The worst customers always come in when you’ve had a heavy night before.

I don’t know Brooke’s size, but I got a good look at her body, so I can figure it out.

I pick up a few things before I decide on the size I’m looking for, then I pick one size slightly bigger, because maybe my shopping spree will seem suspicious later if I nail it too perfectly. I mean, I doubt the hungover sales assistant will even wonder about who I’m buying the clothes for, but there’s always a chance she might find me sketchy.

After picking out a couple of plain, ordinary outfits, I head over to the shoes. I checked the size of the silver heels she was wearing last night before I left the apartment. She’s gonna have to be a sneakers kind of chick for a while. Can’t be inconspicuous in skyscraper heels.

I pick out a couple styles in white and head over to the counter.

The sales assistant abandons her coffee and gives me a weak approximation of a smile.

“Welcome to Bella’s Emporium,” she greets me with an impressive and sudden jolt of enthusiasm. “Did you find everything you were looking for today?”

“Yep,” I reply, getting out my wallet. “Got everything I need.”

“Great!”

She doesn’t look at me, she just deals with the clothes, ringing them up and bagging them as if she’s not ready to pass out. The girl is doing what she needs to do to get through the day. She has zero interest in what I’m doing in here at nine in the morning buying women’s clothes. I’m just another customer.

Two full bags later, she’s telling me the price, and I’m handing over my one and only credit card.

I leave the store and go over the list of other items in my head as I walk down the street, trying to decide where I need to go next. I smile when I find the kind of store I’m looking for. It’s one that sells basically everything. After this stop, I’m done with this trip.

Three plain, black T-shirts, a stack of sheets and pillows, and one king-sized inflatable mattress later, I’m pushing my trolley back toward the front of the super store where the cash registers are.

I pick up a foot-pump on the way to get the mattress ready quicker.

I almost forgot the damn mattress when I spotted mini fridges in one of the promotional aisles. They were sold out of the Coke can style, but they had others, and I might be tempted to come back and buy a couple.

Frost would absolutely kill me if I went back to the apartment with something that big and dumb and unnecessary. I have no desire to piss him off more. He’s already starting to act like a dick.

I’ve never known another guy who gets so pissy when he’s tired.

There should be a word for that, like there is for when someone’s hungry and angry.

Hmm. Let’s see. He turns into a dick when he’s tired.

Anything I can make out of that is already a real word.

Maybe I could just call it getting dicked.

That would really dick him off.

I whistle lightly as I move down the aisle, tempted to go take another look at those mini fridges. I mean, I’m probably out of a job now. I really shouldn’t. On the other hand, I’m not out of a jobyet.

That’s when I catch sight of Brooke’s face on a TV set. I stop at the side of the TV display aisle, eyes widening as I realize she’s on every screen.Holy fucking shit.

The TVs are muted, but no one’s around. I move down that aisle and stop in front of one of the TVs, picking up the remote that’s beside it. Sound would be jarring in the relative quiet of the store.

Instead, I hit the button for subtitles, and take a furtive glance around before I decide it’s safe enough to stay where I am for a couple minutes.

The news channel the story’s playing on is local.

Details are minimal, but as far as I can tell, they’re reporting that Brooke Corvina went missing from Goldcrest Academy, and that she’s a vulnerable Omega who may have been taken advantage of. The caster is urging anyone who might have information about her whereabouts to call a hotline that’s been set up by her father.

I turn the subtitles off and move along.

Getting back to the apartment sounds like a good idea right about now.

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