Karma Box Set (Karma 0.5-4)

She stepped away from the window, giving up the thought of going out there until the group was out of sight. She moved about the shop, trying to straighten up and organize like she had for the last few days because she didn’t know what else to do with herself. She was careful to keep the ten-foot buffer, which she’d been maintaining all day, between her and Lars. He’d tried to get closer but she’d thwarted him every time. It didn’t help that other than the clients who came in and out, it was just the two of them in the shop together all day.

She felt his attention land on her again, as it had often done this morning. She’d glance over to find he was indeed looking at her. Her own gaze barely acknowledged him, refusing to meet his eyes. She’d stay there, for now, but damn if she could muster up the pretense of being happy about it.

She was standing on a chair cleaning one of the large front windows an hour later. Lars’ client had left a good twenty minutes ago, and he’d disappeared into the office for a while.

“Hungry?” he asked, startling her from where he was standing behind her. His hand went to her waist to steady her but then dropped. He was only a foot away. She’d lost her buffer. The chair she was standing on had arms, so she had to either leap over one as she jumped down or ask him to move.

She looked down, debating her options while he remained standing there. “Well? Are you hungry?”

He wasn’t supplying her with nourishment, he was offering up a truce. Her stomach was on the verge of growling but then his words from this morning, “What am I supposed to do? Roll out the red carpet so you can stab me in the back while I sleep?” rattled in her mind, and overruled the yes she’d almost spoken. “No.” She turned back to the window. This was going to be the cleanest window in all of the Carolinas if he wanted to wait her out.

“You know, you were much more agreeable when you first showed up,” he said, as if baffled at her change in demeanor. He was right, she had been. But she could only paste on a fake smile through so many insults before it wore off.

“I was much more desperate when I first got here.” She rubbed over the same spot again.

“And you aren’t now?”

She turned and looked at him, letting her face and eyes do all the talking before she gave him her back again.

“I didn’t mean that to be insulting. I just don’t understand what changed,” he said.

She was glad she wasn’t looking at him because the confusion, bordering on frustration, she heard in his voice made her want to laugh. He really didn’t understand how much he’d insulted her. This guy really had never been human, and it was showing.

She let out a sigh and took pity on him, at least for this one thing. She turned back toward him. “What’s changed is what I can live with.”

“I don’t get it.” He was shaking his head.

“Lars, what I’m saying is I have my pride, too.”

She could see she’d finally hit on something he understood and then went back to washing the window, considering the matter closed.

“You still haven’t eaten.”

“Thank you but I’m not hungry.”

She was startled when an arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the chair she was standing on.

“What are you doing?” she said just as a client stuck his head in the door.

“Get out,” Lars barked.

“But I’ve got an appointment.”

“I said get out. Why do you stupid people always have to hear everything twice?” With his arm still wrapped around her waist, he walked them both to the door where the person quickly retreated. He clicked the deadbolt in place.

“Put me down right now, Lars.”

He didn’t answer but walked them to the office in back where a lunch was spread out on the desk and an additional chair had been pulled up.

He released her in front of the good chair, his chair, with the really nice padding, located behind the desk. He sat in the one in front of the door, which conveniently blocked it.

“What is this?” She looked down and saw all the containers spread out on the desk. There was Caesar salad, penne vodka, grilled chicken and several other round foil containers filled to the brim.

“Food?” he said. “Even angry people get hungry.” And then he smiled. “It smells good.” He nodded, teasing her as she tried to keep the sour look on her face.

“Where did this come from?”

“Guy that just left. He’s a caterer, or was.”

“There’s a lot of food here.”

“Well, you looked so pissed all day I figured it had to be because you were just that hungry.”

She slumped into the chair, realizing her capitulation was getting close. Why did the food have to smell so good and why did he have to keep smiling at her like that? He was a dick. Dicks didn’t smile.

“So, tell me about why you opened an art gallery?” he said, as he filled the plate in front of her with some eggplant and shook out a napkin for her lap.

“You want to hear about my gallery?” she asked, surprised by the question as she eyed up the fork he’d placed beside her plate, the smells chipping away at her annoyance.

“It’s small talk. That’s what humans normally do.”

“Oh.” She guessed that made sense enough. It was stupid to think he cared. It’s not as if he’d asked her anything, besides stuff about Malokin or Keith, since she’d been here.

“And I guess I’m just curious.”

She looked at him, startled by that admission. He wanted to get to know her, and after watching the way he handled most people that came in, she didn’t think he normally showed an interest in any of them. Come to think of it, she’d never heard him making small talk with anyone.

She picked up the fork and felt herself softening a bit. “I guess I wanted to feel like I was contributing in some way to making the world a more beautiful place.” She took a bite and then found herself lobbing a question back at him. “How did you get involved with tattooing?”

“It was a cover, at first, after I left the agency. Then I realized I enjoyed it.”

She thought about the pieces she’d seen him do since she’d been there. “You’re good at your job.”

He looked up from his plate of chicken and smiled. “So are you.”

She shook her head, knowing a false compliment. “How could you know? I’m not doing it anymore.”

“Making the world more beautiful?” He tilted his head and his gaze softened. “Sure you are.”

Her eyes dropped to her plate as her insides lit up like it was a grand fireworks show.

Later on that day she’d barely recall what they’d talked about after that. The only thing that kept going through her mind was that Lars thought she was beautiful.





Chapter 18


The tension of the previous day was completely gone by the next morning. Something had changed between Faith and Lars at lunch yesterday, as if they were friends now. That evening, he’d pulled out a collection of DVDs and they’d eaten popcorn on the couch while they’d watched movies. She’d fallen asleep in his bed later on, and Lars had slept on the couch like always.

As pleasant as the day had been, she’d had trouble sleeping that evening. She’d found herself waking in the night and looking over to where Lars slept. A couple of times he’d already been looking her way, before one of them would break eye contact and pretend to go back to sleep.

Even breakfast this morning had seemed different; easier, somehow. They walked down to the shop with him teasing her about getting her a bat. He said he needed her to look scarier if she wanted to have any chance of kicking the unwanted humans out of the shop. She’d replied that he was scary enough for the both of them.

She’d worked the morning away organizing this and that and straightening up when the phone wasn’t ringing an just trying to be useful in any way she could find.

He’d been working on a bird tattoo on a guy’s bicep when she stepped over to watch him do his thing. She’d never done that before, watched over his shoulder. Somehow she felt like she could today.

He stopped working and looked up at her. She immediately took a step back, thinking she might be crowding him.

He held the gun up to her with a gleam in his eye. “Want to try?”

“Really?” she asked, thinking he had to be kidding.

He nodded.

“On him?” she asked, still disbelieving Lars.

“On me?” the client said.

“Yes. On you,” Lars said to the client, losing the soft quality of his voice when he stopped speaking to her.

Donna Augustine's books