A/N: Don't forget to vote and comment your favourite parts and opinions! Hope you laugh as hard as I did!
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{ Chapter Twenty-Two: To Muffle Banshee's With The Promise of Nudes }
BRIELLE IS SINGING ALONG TO THE RADIO that plays above through the store speakers as she folds new shipments, and Janice doesn't know how to break it to the poor girl that if you were to search up the word tone deaf, Brielle's name would be listed as a noun.
Janice has learned to gradually juggle her workplace and schooling expertly, and today's Thursday evening fell into place almost fittingly. The three of them (Renée, Brielle and Janice) work casually alongside each other, and Janice is whelmed by the well alignment. Usually one to scrummage for extra hours before work or leave early so she could catch the late bus, this shift seems to instead be presenting out in a way that little could be done otherwise to perfect it.
Except, you know, putting a sock (or a cheap, frilly thong) into Brielle-the-banshee's mouth.
Thankfully, Renée didn't have anything against telling the girl the bitter truth. "Bri, I go to church on Sunday's and the pastors preach better than you can sing. And I don't go to church unless I drink too little and the God's are upset with how un-party-like I am."
"I am Beyoncé," screeches Brielle. "Standing in the light of your shadow!" Brielle pauses, scrunching her nose. "Wait, isn't it halo? Can you even have light in shadows? Guys, I think I just found proof I might be God."
Renée leans in towards Janice, who is amusedly watching Brielle fumble with a lacy bra clip, speaking quietly. "This is precisely why we don't have lunch break before work. You gave the poor girl too much soda."
"I can hear you. And I don't mind being high on coke!" Brielle said loudly, before cringing. "Crap, do you think security cameras catch audio? That might be difficult to explain to James's uncle..."
Renée lets a stretch of silence rest. "Hon, you're not Beyoncé. You're not black enough to be such royalty, darling. You're more of a sexually frustrated Robin Thicke mixed into Billy Rae Cyrus. Having a cold."
"You're just jealous that I can pitch higher than you!" Brielle sings faintly.
"More like I'd pitch you through the glass showcase because your voice is just as scratchy as it, except I'm too broke to pay for cleaning support," Renée mumbles. "Janice, babe, can you please tell Bri that she's like a crying baby with rabies?"
Janice bites her tongue, "Bri, Renée says you're like a crying baby with rabies. Try not to foam at the mouth when the next customer comes by; they might actually think these clothes will look good on them."
"Encourage them, Janice! They're our source of income."
Renée smirks. "Again, no wonder I'm broke. I have more faith in Robin hoarding a girl than I do in someone actually buying a two piece. A random kid asked his mom if I was a bikini seller!"
They laugh, their conversation lulling into a pleasant chatter. Janice had found herself integrated into the workplace very quickly after her first week, healthy relationships masking her usual self doubt and often having her actually smile at customers (it fades after she makes eye contact so).
"Okay, I can't sing!" pouts Brielle. "Stop smiling, I could just start hitting Adele — don't throw that box at me! I just sorted it, you sonofabitc — hello, I'm Brielle, how may I help you?" Brielle quickly plasters a preppy smile as a new customer walks in, sending glares to the poorly concealed laughter of her co-workers.
It soon became a routine of easy chatter, bubbling humour and devotion as they work. James was, and still is, out for his lunch break, albeit it didn't make much of a difference as James doesn't commonly hang out in the store regardless, as he is often busy in the back with paperwork.
After Brielle's shift ended, she decides to hang around for a bit to keep her friends company, especially since there aren't any customers currently looking for help.
Sitting leisurely beside Janice as the red head stacks the perfume sets chronologically (because, well, why not?), Brielle hits up a conversation with Robin, who's supposedly bored out of his mind.
There conversation was everything but boring.
"Robin texted me to tell you guys that James went by Calvin. Do any of us need, and I actually quote, 'nudes of any sorts? preferably of a certain bird spokesperson, wink face?'" Brielle barks another laugh, catching Janice's attention. "More like gag face. Dude! He sent me a picture of a mannequin as a tease. Jesus. Renée next time you go to Church, take this boy."
"He wasn't baptized a kid. Just drown him in the bathtub. Maybe hang a cross or something over his head. With any luck, it'll fall on his skull to atone for sins," Renée chortles. "Though if he's offering nudes, can he give me a discount of their new sneakers? I could totally rock those."
"'You guys aren't worthy of working for Victoria'," Brielle reads the reply after the text is sent. "We're apparently prudes. How have we not killed him yet?"
Renée speaks up, her eyebrows raised in question mark. "Has he seen this body? There's a reason I don't go to Church with these sinful curves. I make priests walk awkwardly — and you know why —when they be reading about chastity. Tell him the only thing he'll be kissing for the next week will be my beautiful fist if he thinks I'm a prude."
"Renée, don't get so worked up," Brielle laughs. "James just sent me a video recording of Robin talking to the phone about how his beautiful face does not look nice blue."
"What is James doing there, anyways?" Janice asks as she cuts a price tag for a bottle, throwing out the older one without the new price on it.
Brielle wiggles her eyebrows. "Should I be asking for nudes from another guy, then?"
Janice swats Brielle's arm, her cheeks buzzing with heat. "You don't just say that in public!"
"Janice?" Renée motions her head towards the store, "there is no better public place to discuss this!"
"You can't go around asking for nudes of your manager!" Janice half-screams, embarrassment creeping up her neck to her toes. "I-I— I like flats. Tell Robin to get me nude flats, too."
"Is that your entire order because there's this six-foot guy who looks really hot without—"
"Flats, Brielle. I swear, I'll be drowning you in a bathtub, too."
Giggling at Janice's flustered state, Renée leans in, her elbows on the counter of the check-out booth, her lips pulled back in an easygoing smile. "Hey, Janice, when are you going to bag James?"
"Why do you make it sound like I'm going to purchase him?" Janice said aghast. "You can't just buy him like on eBay! Hey, I'll pay 25 cents extra for free shipping and wrapping!"
"Didn't realize you were into bows and ribbons. That's interesting.Too bad Christmas already passed because that would have been great. Totally would have won present giving."
Janice shakes her mutely. "I have made a vow to never speak of presents again. Please."
"You didn't answer the question, chica," Renée's boisterous voice carrying strongly through the room. "When do you plan on putting the poor boy out of friend-zone misery?"
Janice splutters, "He's my manager, what are you guys proposing?"
"Janice, he's 19," Brielle scoffs, "H&R isn't going to file a case against you because you asked him out on a date. I mean, the boy marvels over you daily!"
"What do you mean by that?" Janice queries, astonished. "He's just a natural flirt." Sulking and dropping her shoulders, she roughly rips open another box, aggressively tearing the side. "He's just an open guy. He'll compliment the barista at Starbucks or the girl in line for salad, so let's face it. It's hard to tell what he thinks half the time."
Renée and Brielle share identical mischievous grins. "Janice, you need to get out of whatever bubble you're in because he likes you. You can't tell us that you think the boy isn't head over heels for you."
"Actually, I can," Janice said stiffly. "Guys, James is, like, a helluva great guy, but we've met, like, what? A month ago?"
"So?" Renée exclaims. "People get married in days! Romeo and Juliet fell in love, shared a bed, and got married in pretty much less than five!"
"Didn't they both die in the end?" Brielle said, before turning away at the glare from the dark-skinned woman. "Not the point. Stop acting ignorant, Janice. He likes you. What do you expect him to do? Get you forty bouquets of roses?"
"Knowing him, he might actually do that," Janice laughs lightly, but still not convinced. She isn't blind to James's welcoming, amiable attitude and clearly wants to believe that the boy could hold an ounce of affection for her. Maybe he does, she thinks.
But then again, Janice has never dated. Apart from the occasional kisses or small dates/flings that are often mutually ended, Janice isn't going to risk taking in wrong signals and running over the wrong tracks into a messy crash.
James is an open person, he might even just admit it, Janice assures herself. I don't even know if I want a relationship. Damn, when did this conversation become centric around me?
Unused to this type of attention, Janice decides to be frank enough so that the limelight would fade. "What about you guys? Do you have any people you might want to be showcasing our clothes to?"
"Of course!" Brielle chirps. "I have this huge mirror in my bedroom. Perfect for cat walking. Only need to impress one person, really." She winks. "Heard the girl's pretty sexy."
Renée adds, "I'm actually single, but my last girlfriend couldn't appreciate me so I guess I'll need to learn to do it for myself. Plus, I don't just work here for the cloth— yeah, I totally just work here for the clothes. Though wish there were better eye candy."
Renée's open sexuality makes Janice love the hot-headed, feisty African girl more; the way she threw caution into the wind when discussing how empowering women are, how beautiful and gorgeous it is to build everyone up instead of breaking them down.
"I still know a hot guy when I see one, though," Renée mentions frequently. "It's like, even though I'm not a huge clothes person, I can totally appreciate a good dress. Sexuality just means attraction, not whether I'm immune to good looks. Because Robin? Frat boy he may be, but he's damn fine— I still want only nude sneakers, though."
Combined with Brielle's loving, friendly personality, the two of them always made Janice feel like home; and if home is where the heart is, then they were the body that held her together.
After twenty minutes, James walks in with some purchases, surprisingly with Lucifer tagging along. When the girls send him questioning — though still welcoming — looks, the green-eyed boy just laughs.
"Our manager is forty, divorced and cranky," he starts off, "and he totally caught Robin texting on the job, so he has an extra shift. I got cut early and I needed the spice of feminine. Unfortunately, all I got was James. Not really into blondes, though."
"Never fear, I will make sure to dress James up in our new shipment." Brielle crows humorously, making James yelp.
Janice laughs as the pair dash after one another, James threatening to fire her and Brielle crackling about how his uncle would get a naughty side of his nephew he will hear years to come. She feels a presence to her side and sees Lucifer casually leaning against (translation: awkwardly) a showcase.
"Hey, Janice?" he asks her, his black hair gleaming in the light. "How's the job working out for you?"
"Oh, you know, keeping it professional." Lucifer smirks at the answer. "Though, I might quit if they make me try one of these things." As if to extend her point, she holds an atrocity of fabric in between two of her fingertips with a grimace, causing Lucifer to laugh.
"I don't know," Lucifer drawls, his eyes smouldering, "I might pay you to try one." His flirtatious banter does not fly over Janice, who blooms red at the comment.
"I'd pay double," mock whispers Renée.
Lucifer smiles warmly at the duo. "Janice, I think I should just get to the point."
Lucifer watches Janice raise an eyebrow, before he takes a glance at James currently speaking with Brielle. "Robin wanted to ask you himself, but well, he's an idiot. Do you mind taking the spare ticket to the movies this Friday night with him or..." Lucifer trails off, emeralds darting towards his tall friend, "should you be further occupied?"
Janice bites her lip, aware that the irony of the situation — where she was practically only moments before discussing her lack of guy interest — is not lost on her.
As Janice takes her time, she is, however, oblivious to the fact that James is quiet and holding his breath. Brielle and Lucifer quietly send each other knowing glances as they watch the two struggle to come to terms with the fact that they should just find a corner and get over with the sexual atmosphere (they're in a lingerie store, for crying out loud).
"How about you tell Robin," Janice finally says, "that I could probably find him a girl to take to the movies because I can't go."
"I think that," Lucifer nods, "is a completely acceptable offer."
James doesn't realize it, but his fists are now unclenched and his shoulders are a little less bunched. He gives himself a breathing exercise, thinking, Robin, I'm going to pluck you like my sister does her eyebrows.
James and Robin were discussing Janice pretty much their entire break, making James regret even coming to Klein (though watching Robin get scolded is the highlight of his week). Robin kept asking whether James was going to grow a pair and acknowledge the love festering in his achingly, loving body — Robin's words, not his — and James telling Robin, fascinatingly similar to Janice's own arguments, that he was her manager and her friend, foremost, and he didn't see the reason in risking their friendship.
That, and he needed to grow a pair.
Leave it to Robin to push her in the direction of dating me with the option of dating him, James internally shakes his head. Twisted little freak.
Though he can't deny her rejection didn't leave him a little hopeful.
"Hey, Janice," Brielle calls over, "I won't be in tomorrow, I have a late gig — my aunt wants to take me to a baby shower or something. I hate babies but I like food so I won't be able to check in tomorrow. Do you think you can manage?"
"I have to leave early, too," Renée pipes in apologetically. "I have to commute earlier. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, I'll help if you need anything," James tells her, and Janice lets out an air of relief. "Plus, it'll be good work experience for you to handle some of the fussy customers."
"I'm sure I'll be able to handle it," Janice said, but her confidence shakes when she notices the weary, sheepish sported expressions on everyone's face. "What? It can't be that bad."
Lucifer just pats her shoulder, making her gulp her anxiety. "Those, my dear, are famous last words."
"I'm totally going to be screwed, aren't I?"
"In the spirit of Robin, I think he wishes he could help with that," Renée mumbles, ducking as an empty box sails towards her. "Sorry, sorry! James, can I have my nude sneakers now?"
James grimaces. "So when you mentioned having nudes, you meant sneakers, huh?"
"James..."
"Never trusting Robin again."
"... Are those nude...?"
"Looks like we'll be selling new products, then."
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A/N: 173K? I can't believe it-- thank you! I will ONLY update next if this story makes 200K! Share the story, spam your friends' newsfeed, spam this story! <3
Also, thank you for the lovely cover above! If you guys have art, please private message me; they make my day <3
I love Brielle and Renée so bloody much.
Thank you for everything, everyone!
Regrards, Sarena x