Chapter 3| Polly pocket wears a fedora and has a gun
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Never in my life would I think walking by myself was going to be perfectly okay. Walking alone in the dark, across a bunch of alleyways was not fun.
I was walking goddamnit! That in itself was not fun at all.
It made it easier when I began to see the bright neon OPEN sign of the local newsagent on the opposite end of the road glowing across the top of a few cars.
My face lit up in relief at the sight. It had been an awfully long time since I had come to this shop. The first time had been with my mother and the second with my father and Cruz who'd since told me not to come here alone, because it was dodgy.
I mean, it was just a shop. What could possibly go wrong?
The doorbell chimed as I hobbled into the warm shop, pulling the sleeves of my jacket past my knuckles. I sighed in ecstasy at the heat that spread across my bright red nose and cheeks I'd caught sight of in the security camera, and of course I had to stick my tongue out and send it deuces. It was good luck.
I searched across the space, and proceeded to grab the goods. But my mother's list could wait - I found the sweet section.
My mouth watered slightly.
After almost having a mental breakdown whilst choosing between Jelly Tots and Skittles, I went to go grab everything else on the list. Just so you know I chose both since I was not going to burden myself by feeling guilty of leaving either packet behind. See - smart.
It was when my arms started to almost fall off that I made the conscious decision to go and grab some chocolate chips from the baking section.
I smiled as I made my way past the fridges, a blast of cold air hitting my legs from the fans and I shuddered at the sensation.
Yes, I was still in my uniform. Yes I know how unsanitary it was, but being burdened to do chores in the evening and having a bunch of nosy relatives walk into your room to 'check up' on you whilst you were semi naked was not fun. It happened once - don't ask.
I was mildly aware of the itch that lingered on my skin from the fabric, but with all due respect I was going to have a really nice soak in the bathtub later this evening when everyone had left. It didn't hurt to be an only child with an ensuite. I barely had to leave my room.
I found myself looking at a bunch of sprinkles and birthday candles, completely forgetting what it was I had come here for.
Oh yes! Ze chocolet!
It was suitably a difficult decision picking between a pack of white chocolate or milk chocolate chips. Again, I didn't hesitate to pick up both with a satisfied grin.
This was a shopping trip of a lifetime.
When I approached the man at the till, I became acutely aware of another mysterious man in a long, black double-breasted coat walk up behind me in the queue. I gave him a sidelong glance, the beeping of my items becoming background noise as I studied him.
He wore a black fedora like he was advertising it. To be honest, I was sold. How could one look that charming in a hat. I couldn't really see clearly under the shadow of it. Everything but his nose and lips were visible and I wondered if he could even see me.
My attention slipped to his hands, where he held loosely onto a Polly Pocket magazine, almost as if he picked it up without looking.
I started to sweat a little.
"That'll be twenty, fifty six." Said the cashier.
I was brought out of my stalker trance and smiled sheepishly at the asian man, handing him two twenty pound notes.
My brows pinched together when I realised the slight shaking of my hands as I slipped the money into his palm.
He smiled at me, a little puzzled by my wide eyes and cautious stance.
It was when I caught sight of something peeking out from under Polly Pocket's coat in the reflection of the glass door, did I freeze with terror.
Polly Pocket had a gun.
...a rather small gun, but a gun nonetheless.
"Here's your change," the cashier spoke, but I remained oblivious. Glancing cautiously to the reflection again. "Um...lady, would you like to keep your change?" He laughed softly, completely unaware of the internal breakdown I was having.
But then he started to sound a little annoyed and clicked his tongue. "Listen, I don't have all day. There's other customers waiting behind you and it's almost closing time so if you could please take the change and make your way out of my store, that would be great." Mike (I read his name tag) said with a little menace. What a dick!
I came out of my trance, completely aware that Polly Pocket started to move his hand near his pocket, the one with the gun. He probably thought I was crazy.
I was definitely not the crazy one here. He was - HE HAD A GUN!
The only thing I could think of using as a weapon in my basket was the long cucumber, although that looked a little under the weather. The most damage it could probably do was to me, because it would not be good enough to use against a fucking gun!
"Sorry I - um...sorry." Now was not a good time to become illiterate. "Um - keep the change, thank you." I then grabbed my recyclable bag - since we were saving the planet - and began to pace to the exit.
I was a second away from touching the handle when the huge shadow of a man crept over me and startled me into another frozen episode.
Seriously, what was with me right now? My dad certainly didn't raise a pussy and though I had one, I was not a pussy!
Thus, I internally reasoned with myself to be a big person and not blow a fuse in front of the stranger, but then I turned around and fucked that plan.
My hands were raised on my hips as I glared the giant, six foot something tall man.
I was frightening as a fucking kitten, but my wrath was like the size of a dragon. Yes, a fire breathing fantastical creature. If it existed, then you'd be toast too.
"Who the hell are you? And why the hell are you following me?!" I questioned with enough venom in my voice that the man's expression set into one surprise. Well not exactly his entire expression since I couldn't see his about his nose, but his mouth parted slightly and I concluded he was so scared of me. Yuh-huh, that's right, I'm a bad bitch you can't kill me.
"I'm just waiting for you to open the door," He answered quietly, a hint of an italian accent peeking through.
Nu-uh, no way; he didn't fool me one bit. Acting as if I was tripping balls and he was a saint.
My glare intensified by 0.009%. "Bullshit." I called out. At this point it, I think it's safe to say mamma didn't raise no bitch. "Why do you have a Polly Pocket magazine in your hands then? Only someone who's not looking at what they're doing would get a child's magazine,"
"I'm a...big fan?"
"I repeat. Bullshit." Okay maybe he was a fan and I was being ageist? But still, it was kinda shady to me. I would have picked a Barbie one or something.
"Non ho il tempo di farlo" He muttered into his palm, before meeting my gaze once more. Well, at least I imagined he was actually looking at me since I still couldn't see shit from under the shadow of his fedora.
(I don't have time for this)
"Listen cucciolo," his voice was a little more clearer now. "I've got places to be, people to meet. So I'm going to give you five seconds to move your cute little ass away from the door, before I move it for you, sî?"
(Puppy)
I was not prepared for the full, sexy italian accent that just came out from his mouth. Oh sweet mother of Jesus...I was horny. "N-no." I squeaked out like a chew toy, further digging myself a hole since I was 100% sure he was going to murder my ass right here.
"Santo cazzo Madre di Cristo." He groaned. Now that's hot.
(Holy fucking mother of Christ)
It really didn't help when the italian lilt glided over his tongue like honey, putting me in an even more hormonal trance, though he was most likely cursing me.
Now I wasn't expecting to threaten someone who looked as if he would snap my neck with his bare hands, or better yet - shoot me in the boobs.
My palms were sweating and my knees were a second away from giving out under all the fear and coldness in the room.
How the fuck was Mike not seeing any of this?!
It was when he moved to grab the gun from his pocket did I let out what may have sounded like a cat giving birth, and fell back into reality. "Y-you can't tell me to move." I pointed a vicious finger in his face. "I-I'll..." I trailed off, having no clue what I was going to threaten him with.
"You'll what, little lady?" He mocked with a slight smirk.
But it irked me nonetheless. The stupid, sexy accent; the stupid coat; the stupid arrogant attitude and the insanely stupid fedora!
"Don't mock me," I spat, deeply offended. I was not going to be his bitch. I'd already been one man's bitch this afternoon. My 'To-be-one's-bitch' metre was used up and I was not going to give him any ammunition that I was about to wee myself.
He chuckled. A husky, cold sound raising goosebumps on my skin.
"Cucciolo...move."
The order in itself made me want to piss my tights, but it was his demeanour that really made me terrified.
He stopped looking humoured all together, the darkness of his shadow now engulfing me as he stepped closer, my nose a breath away from his chest.
I had to crane my head to look at him and when I did I was more than happy to pass - the fuck - out.
Polly pocket's face darkened as he stared at me with incredulous, narrowed eyes, missing nothing as he scanned my face warily.
I was in awe.
This was one handsome man. His eyes looked like a raging storm, the heat of them scorching my skin as I shamelessly checked him out. He looked down at me under his flawless, long lashes over his sharp nose.
HOT DAMN!
I almost drooled when my eyes met his lips, making me lick mine on instinct. They were gorgeous, as if he put on lip balm everyday. I like a man who knows how to care for his skin and I really hoped he'd tell me his skincare routine...well, perhaps not now. Maybe sometime in the future once he doesn't kill me and we become besties.
"Smettila di controllarmi, prima di baciarti," he murmured softly, minty breath fanning my skin as I stared at him.
(Stop checking me out, before I kiss you)
All of a sudden a cold blast of wind hit my skin as someone entered the store, pushing me to the side.
It was a man wearing a large, black hoodie pushing his way past me then disappearing behind the crisp aisle. Someone was hungry.
He seemed a little strange. Not even stopping to apologise to me. So much for manners, you ignorant bastard.
Then I remembered what I was doing before that. Oh yes! Checking out Mr Polly pocket.
Speaking of the devil.
He was checking out what I'd bought in my bag, smirking to himself as if my groceries and him shared a joke.
Not fair. I wanted in on the joke too.
"Hey, big guy. My eyes are up here," I said, my confidence in speaking to the man going through the roof.
"Mi scusi?" He asked, brows raised.
(Excuse me?)
I raised my brows at him as well, moving my little bag away from his sight so he couldn't judge my potential depression snacks. "That's right, Leccami il culo." Ha! In your face you italian asshole. I had a few words of my own too.
(Lick my ass)
Polly pocket snickered. His expression instantly lighting up as his face eased into a grin. It made me pause for a second and gaze at him. He looked a little more...friendly.
"Do you know what that means?" He asked with an arrogant grin on his face. I was aware that I had successfully made him forget about the gun. Even I'd forgotten about it. Some might call me a genius or incredibly stupid.
I scoffed. "It means 'you big toad', shouldn't you get that, cucciolo?" This time I was the one smirking. I was the one with the upper hand, and to think, this guy was threatening me...
"Actually cara, it means 'lick my ass'." He spoke with a ghost of a smile.
I frowned. "My name's Heidi, not Cara. Who's Cara?" Then I paused to think about the phrase Cruz had taught me a few years ago. "And it does not mean that, I'm not stupid. I've been using it my whole life, anyone would have corrected me by now,"
"I'm correcting you, cucciolo. Whoever told you to say that or didn't correct you, isn't your friend,"
I clicked my tongue against my teeth. Cruz Le Santi was dead.
Polly pocket cleared his throat. "Am I free to leave now?" He was judging me. I could feel it...not physically because, goddamnit, that stupid fucking fedora was back in the way of this beautiful humans face.
"Yeah, whatever. I wasn't holding you hostage in the first place, pfft." I laughed nervously with embarrassment. I shuffled to the side, so my big voluptuous ass was not blocking the door and he made a move to leave.
But when a frown slipped onto my face at the disturbing fact that I was sad over the possibility that I'd never see this handsome man ever again in my life, Polly pocket paused, his hand gripping onto the steel door handle as he moved his head down next to my cheek.
"It was nice meeting you, little Losièr." He whispered sensually into my ear, sending my body into a fit of sparks. Who gave him the right to make me horny?
I turned beetroot as he slipped out the door chuckling darkly into the night without a backwards glance. This wasn't healthy. At all.
"You good lady?" Mike asked with a mop in his hand, seeing me standing awkwardly by the door. Ah, now he sees me.
I shook myself out of the hormonal state that took over my body and laughed sheepishly at the guy.
"Y-yeah, I'm good." Then I quickly got out of there before I weirded him out even more than I already did - a sexy, frightening Italian stuck on my mind.
It was when I was halfway home that my phone pinged with a dozen messages from my mum and three missed calls from Cruz.
Oh shit...
But another thought rammed into my brain and I froze in horror - Polly Pocket knew my second name.