Dead End Job by Vicki Grant Read Free Book Online Page B

forgot about that!”
    He led me back into the store. He had his arm around my waist like we were in love. He stank of sweat and too much aftershave.
    He locked the door and flipped the sign to “Closed.”
    â€œThere,” he said. “Now we won’t have to worry about customers either. I’m sure Mr. Abdul won’t mind you closing up a little early, this being a special occasion and all.”
    I could feel myself filling up with panic. It was like someone put it in a needle and shot it in my veins. I was losing control. And hope.
    I looked out the window. A car drove by. I threw my free arm up and waved wildly. I screamed, “Help! Help!”
    Devin switched off the lights. The car didn’t even slow down.
    â€œThis is kind of nice,” he said, “being alone in the dark. Now, c’mon, Frances. Our dinner’s getting cold.”
    The only light in the store came from the Highway Buyway sign. It made Devin’s face look almost green. It reminded me of a horror movie.
    â€œYou don’t know how long I’ve waited for this moment,” he said.
    He took me back into the stockroom.

Chapter Sixteen
    Devin pulled up a box for me to sit on. He lit the candle and sat down opposite me, blocking the way into the store.
    I thought of the bathroom window. I’d have to climb onto the back of the toilet, then wiggle out. I’d never be able to do it in time.
    â€œYou look beautiful,” he said. He didn’t seem to notice that I was crying.
    â€œChampagne, dahling?” he asked. I didn’t answer. He pulled a bottle out from somewhere and poured us each a wineglass full.
    â€œTo our undying love!” He raised his glass. “C’mon, Frances.” He made me lift my glass. “To us!”
    He threw his champagne back in one big gulp. I took a sip. It stung, and I knew he’d split my lip when he hit me.
    He said, “I have to apologize to you.” For a second I thought there was a chance. I thought he might let me go.
    But he just said, “I don’t have much money since I turned down that record deal. A number of publishers are interested in my photographs, but until I decide which one I want to sign with, I’m going to be a little short of cash. I hope you’ll understand.”
    He put his hand on mine. I didn’t pull it away. I just tightened up inside.
    â€œYou deserve more than this,” he said. “Some day I’ll make sure you have it. Until then, will you accept this as a token of my love?”
    He put a gift on the table. I just stared at it.
    â€œOpen it,” he said.
    I didn’t move.
    â€œOpen it!” he screamed. Before I could do anything, he grabbed it and tore the paper off. He was like a crazy man.
    â€œLook, I am trying, Frances! What more can I do? Is this not good enough? Is that the problem?”
    He slammed a full set of charcoal pencils on the table. The plates jumped and rattled.
    â€œI know it’s not a diamond ring! I apologized for that! But I thought you’d like it anyway!” He glared at me.
    â€œI do like it!” I said. I was whimpering. I had my head down. I couldn’t look at him. “I do. The pencils are beautiful…They’re the best…They must have cost a lot. Thank you very much. ”
    â€œI hope you’ll draw something for me with them,” he said. When I looked up, he was smiling. “Now how about some food?”
    I nodded. He began to carve the chicken. I realized he could kill me with that knife.
    Or I could kill him.
    â€œMore champagne?” I said.

Chapter Seventeen
    â€œOf course!”
    I filled his glass. He took a big swig and began to carve again. I watched him as he sliced into the breast, cut off a leg.
    â€œWhite or dark?” he said.
    â€œYou help yourself.” I smiled. “I’ll get my own.”
    â€œNo, no, no,” he said. “You’re my guest. White or