BEAUTY AND THE BADGE Page 2

  I wince when the man with the gun to my head angrily jabs it into me. “What about you? How much money do you have?”

  “I…” Swallowing, I try again. “I only had two dollars with me. I spent it on hot chocolate and candy.”

  “Stupid bitch,” he spits.

  He abruptly shoves me away from him, and I lose my balance and fall into the end cap of snacks, my arms knocking bags of chips to the floor as I struggle to right myself. As I do, the door chimes. No longer falling, I turn and watch as the two men race from the store, climb into an old-looking minivan at the curb, and peel off.

  “Ashley!”

  I blink dazedly as Rob jumps over the counter and runs to me. “Are you okay?”

  I look from him and back to the door again. I don’t know what I am right now. Still, I nod, because I’m alive and that’s the most important thing. “I think I’m okay.”

  “Are you sure?”

  After a few seconds, I nod again before I turn my attention back to him. “What about you? Are you okay?”

  His jaw clenches as he nods. “I’m fine—it’s you I’m worried about. The police should be here any minute. I pressed the panic button on the side of the safe when I went to take the money out.”

  I forgot his dad had a button installed on the side of the safe. It’s unobtrusive and unnoticeable so it can be pressed without detection. It’s been in place for the last six years, and in that time, it’s been used three times. Because the events that led to the button being pushed happened late at night, Rob’s dad changed the store hours so it closes at nine on weeknights and eleven on weekends. After he put those changes into place, there were no incidents.

  Until now.

  “Hey,” Rob says in a soothing tone, “you need something sweet to drink. I think you’re in shock.” He puts an arm around my shoulders and walks me to the stool behind the counter. “I’ll go grab you a Gatorade. Is red okay?”

  “Um, sure.”

  All I can think about right now is that two minutes ago there was a gun pointed at my head. I could’ve been seriously hurt or, well, worse. I could have been killed. I’m full body shaking when Rob comes back and hands me the bottle of Gatorade. He took the cap off for me, but I’m trembling so badly that it spills out onto my hand. It’s a light red, but it makes me think of blood. As everything around me starts to go gray, Rob takes the drink from me and orders me to put my head between my legs.

  I don’t pass out, but it’s close.

  _______________

  KAREN SHOWED UP while we were giving our statements to the police, so she came up and sat with me for a bit. She only left after I assured her I was fine for the fiftieth time. I’m anything but, though. There’s no doubt in my mind that Karen knew that, but she also understood I need to be alone.

  I feel like I’m trapped in a dream and I’m having trouble wrapping my mind around the fact that just a few hours ago I was as close to death as I’ve ever been. If things had gone differently, I wouldn’t be sitting on this sofa right now.

  Realizing I’m working myself up—again—I push up off the couch and head for my bedroom. Along the way, I strip out of my shorts and T-shirt, dropping them on the floor without bothering to pick them up. After plugging my phone in, putting it on silent, and setting it down on the nightstand, I get into bed, pull the covers over my head, and close my eyes. As I do, I assure myself that a good night’s sleep will get me back on track.

  _______________

  I’D HOPED THAT maybe I’d pass out and sleep hard. Instead, I had one nightmare after another. The first few were about what happened in the store, but as the night wore on, it was other things too. The common theme in all the dreams centered on my being trapped. If that isn’t a loud, blaring siren about the state of my life, I don’t know what is.

  Now that it’s morning, I don’t feel ready to face the day. I’ve been staring at my ceiling for the last hour or so, trying to dredge up some get-up-and-go, but it’s not happening. At this point, I have to acknowledge I can’t go to work today. Mentally, I don’t have it in me. I’m out of gas, so to speak, and I need to recharge.

  My inner voice doesn’t hesitate to point out I’ve been out of gas for a while, since even the not totally awful days at my job are draining. I’ve been demeaned, demoralized, screamed at, and cursed out by Hadley more times than I can count. Instead of quitting, I’ve stayed, because of the stupid benefits. They mattered to me at six o’clock last night. But in the aftermath of being held at gunpoint? I see things differently.

  Now I see that I’m chained to my job to the point that I never get to take any time off, which makes doctors appointments impossible to get. What good are those benefits I don’t use? Worse, what if when I finally do get to use them, I find out I have high blood pressure or an ulcer or some other stress-induced issue, because dealing with Hadley is killing me?

  I can’t go to work with all this working its way through my head. I need a sick day. Long term, I know I need something even more than that. I’m not sure how to achieve that just yet, but I know a day to myself isn’t just a place to start—it’s absolutely essential. Sitting up, I push my long raven-colored hair back from my face, pull it back, twist it into a knot, and tuck the end piece in to hold it all together. Then I pick up my phone from my nightstand. Checking my alerts, I see that aside from text messages from Rob and Karen, there’s nothing else.

  I cringe as another realization hits me. My friends used to call and text all the time to invite me out on the weekends, but I always had to say no because I was either working overtime or too exhausted to even consider getting dressed up to go out and drink. At some point, the calls and texts went from frequent to occasional, and I hadn’t even noticed. My friends moved on without me and I… well, I’m just going through the motions. I have to do something about my life. If I’d died last night, what would my friends have said at my funeral? I remember when Ashley was fun.

  I mean, what else could they say? It’s true, after all. I used to be carefree and happy. I used to go out and have a good time. I used to be a lot of things. Now, I’m barely treading water. I need to get my priorities straight, and I need to do it now, because nothing in life is guaranteed. Step one is calling out of work for the day.

  After a quick scroll through my phonebook, I press Hadley’s name and wait for the call to connect.

  “What?” she barks.

  No greeting. No pleasantries. Normally, her attitude would cause me to forego asking for anything. Not this time.

  “Good morning, Hadley,” I say. As rude as she is, I’m always polite. “I’m calling to let you know I won’t be at work today.”

  “What? Why?”

  My knee-jerk response is to waiver, but then I think about how it felt having a gun at my head. In light of that, Hadley is nowhere near as terrifying as she once was.

  “I was held at gunpoint during a store robbery last night. I need a mental health day.”

  “A mental health day?” she shrieks, loud enough that I wince. “Just when I think you couldn’t possibly be more of a pygmy, you prove me wrong. Get your lazy ass up, get dressed, and get to your desk. And if you don’t want to find out what real hell is like, make sure to have my coffee ready by the time I get there.”

  Her words flip a switch in my head.

  I’m done.

  So done.

  Beyond, even.

  “Hadley?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I quit.”

  “Oh please, you little wimp—”

  I raise my voice and cut her off. “That’s enough. As per the employment manual, my final paycheck will need to include all of my unused vacation, sick, and personal time, along with all of the hours I’ve put in during this payroll period.”

  “Listen here, you good for nothing—”

  My ability to deal with her abuse drops to zero, and my temper flares. “Shut your mouth and listen. I’ve put up with enough of your abuse and I won’t be taking any more.
I’m sure your first instinct will be to try to mess with me, but I’d advise against it. If my final check isn’t here in a timely manner, I’ll be filing a complaint with the labor board. I’ll also reach out to the gossip vloggers on YouTube to tell them what a horrible person you are, and I’ve got the receipts to prove it. I never signed an NDA, Hadley. You don’t want to test me.”

  Without another word, I terminate the call. When my phone immediately starts ringing, I hit Decline. I repeat this for the next seven calls—all from her, of course—before I power it down entirely. I keep waiting for panic to hit me, but it’s not happening. What I’m feeling right now is free.

  I’m not sure what will come after this, but I know that whatever it is, the choice will be based on making the most of this life. Curling back up under my comforter, I close my eyes and fall into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ____________________________________

  ASHLEY

  Two weeks later

  THE FIRST THREE days after the holdup, I chose to stay home and do nothing at all. It was a privilege I hadn’t indulged in for so long that it felt like a vacation. I ate a lot of delivery food, peanut butter cups, and chocolate ice cream while I watched the first season of Gossip Girl.

  The fourth day, I sat at the kitchen table with my manifesting books and my iPad, which was open to the manifestation app. Since I was free of the job from hell, it was time for me to take the next steps. One by one, I wrote out my list.

  Move out of Los Angeles.

  Find a job that involves working with other people.

  I was a people person, which was one of the reasons working with only Hadley had been stifling. When I interviewed, there’d been a lot of talk of events and coordinating projects with sponsors. What she’d failed to mention was that she was almost never going to allow me to accompany her to events and the sponsors were generally as harried and overworked as I was.

  Live to be happy, not to work.

  Be open to new adventures.

  Set down roots.

  Find a man who makes me weak in the knees.

  Create a family.

  The first item on my list was easy. My grandfather left a cottage to me in Charlotte’s Cove when he passed. Aside from utilities, homeowners insurance, and a yearly property tax bill, everything else was covered. I also had an untouched nest egg from selling my grandparents’ home in Sherman Oaks. I’d crunched the numbers a few times, and each time, I grew more confident that moving to Charlotte’s Cove permanently was really possible. Not only could I live in my favorite place in the world, but I could do it without going broke.

  Located forty minutes outside of Seattle, Charlotte’s Cove is a little slice of heaven on earth. From the rocky beaches to the never-too-hot climate, everything about it is perfect. The community is strong and people take the time to get involved. Weddings, births, christenings, sickness, funerals, good times or bad, the people of the cove celebrate, laugh, and even cry together.

  Unlike Los Angeles, where you’ll only meet a small handful of your neighbors, in the Cove, you know everyone. On any given day, you might open your door and find that a neighbor has left homemade jam, freshly laid eggs, or a recipe they cut out of a magazine for you, for no other reason than that’s what people there do. The pace is slower, so you get to enjoy the life you’re living instead of watching it pass you by.

  When I put in a call to Millie Andover, the woman who lived next door to my grandparents’ Cove house, and filled her in on my plans, she declared that my timing was impeccable. Another of our neighbors, Felicity Falls, was retiring from her job running the front desk at the police station, and they were looking for a replacement.

  Only in Charlotte’s Cove could a person get a job, sight unseen. The fact that I’m what the island folk consider a local—even though I’ve never lived there year round—made the hiring process a breeze. Chief Perry was the man in charge since before I could walk, but since he retired last year, there’s a new chief now. I worried that Chief Jameson would push back against the fact that I was being shoved down his throat, but Felicity said he was relieved that out of all the applicants someone that had computer skills wanted the job.

  I bit back a chuckle at that. With the exception of the teenagers, the majority of people living in Charlotte’s Cove don’t care about computers. It’s not like there’s a Best Buy on the corner, so most everyone is working with old equipment. Heck, they only got high-speed internet four years ago, and that was a battle in the town council for almost five years. In the end, they wound up giving in, because summer renters were threatening to go elsewhere and the island relies on the revenue the summer crowd brings.

  I couldn’t be happier that my knowledge of computers is going to come in handy for something real. My primary job with Hadley had revolved around scheduling posts on Instagram, uploading videos to YouTube, and responding to all comments on all her social media accounts. If I never have to respond to another question or comment about shoe organizers, weight loss teas, exercise balls, or sweetened vitamins, it will be too soon.

  _______________

  “AND YOU’RE SURE you’re good to drive the whole way to Charlotte’s Cove by yourself?” Rob asks after he makes sure—for the fifth time—he loaded all the luggage he brought down from my apartment into my trunk. Since it’s not sprouted legs and taken off for parts unknown, it’s there—the same as every other time he’s checked.

  “I’m positive,” I assure him.

  “It’s a hell of a trip,” he grumbles.

  I give him an exasperated look. “I promise I’ve got this. All the years I spent making this same journey in my grandparents’ Buick means I already know how far I’ll go each day and exactly where I’ll stop at night. This trip is in my blood—I could do it blindfolded if I wanted to.”

  “You probably shouldn’t talk about driving blindfolded when you’re trying to settle my nerves,” he murmurs.

  “Oh, stop,” Karen reprimands. “She’s just saying she knows the way.”

  “You’ve done it yourself many times,” I remind him. “It’s not a difficult drive, just a long one.” Charlotte’s Cove isn’t just where my family always went on vacation; his did too. His father and my grandfather were born and raised on the island. They left when they enlisted in the military, and about a decade later, after they settled in California and started their families, they each purchased small cottages on the island. The last time I was there was just before my grandfather passed, on our final vacation, so it’s been a while. I’m excited to get there and settle in.

  “It would’ve made sense for you to wait another few weeks. Karen and I could’ve found someone to watch the store so we could drive with you.”

  I sigh as I lean back against my car and cross my arms. “You know, if you’re so worried about me being out on my own, you should sell the store and move to Charlotte’s Cove yourself. The island could use a Coleman’s,” I tease.

  “God, wouldn’t that be great?” Karen enthuses. “I could be about living on the water for sure. That view is unparalleled.”

  “All right, all right, settle down, you two,” Rob grouses. “I can’t run my store from Washington, so moving is a no-go for me. I can’t follow you, Ash, but I can worry. I’m sure I’ll relax once I know you’ve made it to the island.”

  “I know you worry, and I promise I’ll be careful.”

  He nods as he clears his throat and pulls me in for a hug. I know he’s struggling with my choice, and I understand why. How could I not when one of the only things that kept me in Los Angeles after Grandpa died is Rob? If I weren’t positive that I’ll see him on a regular basis, because he owns a house on the Cove, then my decision would’ve been harder. With so little family left, I treasure what I have.

  After hugging and thanking Rob and Karen two more times each, I get into my little white Jetta and start the journey to Charlotte’s Cove.

  _______________

  FAR TOO MANY fast foo
d meals, ten chocolate milks, eight bottles of water, and two large bags of M&M’s later, I’m about three miles away from the Welcome to Charlotte’s Cove sign. Pressing the control buttons on my door panel, I roll down all of the windows and breathe in the crisp sea-scented air. It’s just after six, and the sun is beginning to set, which is my favorite time of day on the island. Taking the final turn onto the street where the cottage is, I feel a weight lifting from my shoulders. I’ve missed this house on a soul-deep level. Of all the places I’ve been in the world, Charlotte’s Cove has always held the biggest piece of my heart. My grandfather used to joke that it was like I was called to the island, and I’d have to agree. There’s magic here.

  Pulling into the drive, I smile at the little blue and white cottage that’s been in my family since before I was born. Rob’s pale yellow and white place is on the right, while the all-white Andover house sits to the left. Our A-frame homes are cozy. Like all the houses on this block, each has two bedrooms, a loft, and one bathroom. None of the houses are more than a thousand square feet, but when you’ve got a cottage on Charlotte’s Cove, it’s not the interior you care about; it’s what’s outside that matters. Every house sits right on the waterfront. Our yards are full of driftwood and sea rocks, and our outdoor decks are well used. Put simply, we all own a piece of heaven.

  Once the car is parked, I pick the key fob up from the cup holder and tuck it into the front pocket of my well-worn jeans. Weather here is a lot different than LA, which was ninety-two degrees when I left. According to the weather app on my phone, it’s sixty-one degrees here right now. As I said, it’s heaven.

  Picking my white Los Angeles Valley College sweatshirt up from my passenger seat, I pull it on, grab my purse, and get out of the car. After shaking my legs out and stretching, I head for the house without bothering to lock my car. Crime in this part of the Cove is so rare that almost everyone leaves their doors unlocked. Since this will be my first time living in the cottage alone, I won’t be doing that, but I love things like that are still an option here. Only an idiot with a death wish would intentionally leave their doors unlocked in Los Angeles.