Charlie preferred Pepsi over Coke.
That was the only interesting fact concerning his life.
He never understood the heated rivalry between the two products. They were almost one and the same. But he couldn't have much of a say to their internal predicament. Let alone that his was much worse.
He rubbed the microfiber rug against the leather shoes, careful to not wear them down. The pair had more digits than his net worth.
"Onesimus merchandiser. Please proceed to customer service", the static speaker buzzed, its words almost undecipherable, "I repeat. Onesimus merchandiser. Please proceed to customer service."
Charlie sighed exasperatedly. His fingers felt worn-out. His breaths were tired, both physically and emotionally. Perhaps, this time, he'll get fired from this crappy job. Not that he wanted to be. It still was a job, after all. But he hated the fact that his English Major degree was left to be hung in a five dollar "golden" frame on the wall of his downtown rented apartment.
He plopped the shoes within the box neatly before shoving it alongside the others. Mostly, people would be under the assumption of the high-class store being flooded with amassed crowds of buyers.
But Charlie knew more than that. There were sub-groups upon mini cliques within every posse. There were the window shoppers - harmless little daydreamers - couldn't hurt a fly if they tried. And there were the "window shoppers", who were better termed as shoplifters.
But Charlie was indifferent to them. As long as those snitches didn't affect his paycheck, they won't get stitches.
Yet most importantly, there were the pranksters. They posed a real threat on him. Because if there was one thing that they could steal that Charlie couldn't buy back, was time. And he was facing one in vexation right now.
Her dyed blue hair tips glowed alongside her blood red lip stain. Antique glasses masked her eyes, but the thin black film couldn't hold back the contrasting shade of icy cool. Her black locks were tossed recklessly at her back; her chipped manicure grasping the employee log.
And despite the nostalgic feeling and the best-not-to-be-mentioned feeling below, there was one thing he was sure of: she wasn't an employee.
"Hello Charlie", she greeted before moving her lips into an exuberant grin. Taking her shades, she positioned them on the bridge of her nose, freeing the glimmer of her eyes.
"Lily?" He stepped forward in awe. Or in refusal of believing that she was the girl he tormented for three years.
She dyed her hair, she wore contacts, she got a tan, she fixed her teeth, she grew taller, she looked breathless as much as he took her breath away from fleeting chases, and if it weren't for her arctic irises, he never could've believed her.
Opening the storage room behind her, she corrected, "It's Aleks."
She stepped out of the booth, revealing her oversized, linty hoodie and criss-cross patterned skirt. "You have no idea how many shops I've been just to get to you."
Aleks suddenly grasped him by the shoulders and tossed him into the closet. Several tightly-sealed bottles collapsed down the shelves, creating a downfall of cleaning products. Charlie stumbled for a moment, but regained balance by grasping on a weakly balanced mop.
One foot within the room, Aleks surveyed the surroundings so quickly you could miss her if you blinked twice. She twisted the knob, pulled it to a close, then released it.
The cubic room forced them to stick to each other. Not that Charlie minded. It was lit poorly by the fluorescent bulb, hanging on the verge of death by its power cord. It stank of bleach and detergent powder. He mustered holding his breath.
Lily, er, Aleks breathed heavily, forming an 'O' whilst exhaling as she unconsciously created dust rings visible under the light.
"I need three things from you", she spoke wryly, straight to the point.
"What?" He asked more in confusion than of generosity.
"I need sneakers, boxers, and transport."
"Wait, why are-?"
"I'll explain on the way." She unlatched the door slightly, as to check for witnesses, then widely for escape. She took his wrist and began to strut to the fire exit.
"Lily-!" He scolded in a fierce whisper as he broke away from her grip.
"It's Aleks."
"Whatever", he shook it off. "Where are we going?"
"Didn't I tell you?" She questioned as if it was obvious. He cocked his head lightly, furrowing his brows.
She raised her right eyebrow and her left hand rested on her hip, "We're going home, Charlie."
YOU ARE READING
Sole-Searching
Teen FictionCharlie never wished or hoped ever since he began working in a shoe store. Well, at one point he did. But with a student loan that could pay off his future mortgage, he tucked away those frivolous thoughts with his childhood. But when childhood frie...
