Nougat pt 03

“Get her out of here.”

The woman behind the counter pointed a stiff finger at the drunk girl who had followed me in.  I half-turned to look at her over my shoulder and found her puzzlingly staring daggers at a man in the corner wearing a fine suit and flipping through a magazine and pretending to ignore the three of us.

“She needs a cab,” I said.  Nothing happened.  “Can I get a cab?”  In another two heartbeats the proprietress lowered her hand and picked up her phone with an exasperated noise.  She turned her back and held a murmured conversation.

“She knows where you’re going?” I asked the drunk girl.

“She knows.” She still stared at the man in the corner and he continued to flip.  I had missed an exchange and was in the middle of something.  When the shop-owner–she clearly was–had finished her call she turned back to us and crossed her arms across her chest, let her eyes flick between us, intruders.  I felt my cheeks heat and eventually looked at the floor and listened to the pages of the magazine turn as the man in the corner didn’t break.

The first I noticed being alone was when I heard the cab pull away and saw the man with the magazine drop it to his side and start to saunter over.

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