Chapter 13
Bill knows it’s the other guy Angie suspects of shoplifting. He’s slightly larger, with darker skin, hair cropped so close it fades into his scalp, and a smoke-colored bubble jacket in a style that’s so popular nowadays. His hands are fisted deep into the jacket’s pockets, but Bill knows there’s plenty of room for a CD or two crammed down in there, too. The guy wears sweatpants and, when he turns, Bill sees a large bulge in the front that might be stolen goods.
Or it might be ten inches curved into a jock,Bill reminds himself. He’s always thought sweatpants show off a man’s best assets, and this guy’s hung.
The kicker, though, is the glance he throws Bill’s way before he turns back to his friend. Just a little look, nothing anyone could point out, but Bill saw it. From across the crowded store, those honey-colored eyes found his, and what he saw in their depths made his knees weak. Sweet Jesus. Ten inches, then. At least.
Angie nudges him in the side, breaking the spell. “He keeps doingthat,” she says with a frown. “Like he’s trying to make sure you’re not watching him or something.”
Or something,Bill agrees silently. Now that he caught the look, he knows what Angie must think it is. Glancing at his watch, he sees they still have a good hour left before closing. Then they have to clean up, and he’d planned to ask a few employees to stay and restock the shelves, and he still has the deposit to make…the last thing he needs on a busy night like this one is to make a scene over a potential shoplifter. And when it turns out Angie’s wrong about the guy…
Beside him, she hisses, “Should I call security?”
“No.” The last thing Bill wants is a bunch of mall cops storming the music store. Even without an arrest, news would spread fast. Most shop owners might like to scare off black teenagers who scope out their goods without buying anything, but those are Bill’s best customers and he knows it. If word gets out they’re shaking down customers, his business will dry up. Sales are already down because of file sharing and online retailers selling MP3s—if he loses the hip hop and rap sales base, who’s going to buy his stock? He can only sell so many country western CDs and Clint Eastwood movies before he goes under.
“Why not?” Angie wants to know.
Bill sighs. Not tonight. “I’ll do something,” he promises. With a final look at the two—the taller guy is watching him again, a faint smile playing over a pair of full, dark lips—Bill turns back to his notebook, mind racing. “Just…keep an eye on them and let me know when they’re heading out.”
“Um…” At the hesitation in Angie’s voice, he looks up. “I think they’re heading out now.”
Bill rolls his eyes so he doesn’t have to lift his head and, sure enough, the duo is heading toward the store’s entrance. The guy in the jacket hasn’t taken his hands out of his pockets, and that looks bad. But Bill’s gaze is drawn to the swinging package at the front of the guy’s sweats. The fleece caresses the bulk hidden beneath it as it moves, outlining a bulge that makes Bill’s throat dry to think of it. He can imagine a thick, black cock encased in a white jockstrap, partially aroused from the sheer motion of the guy’s sexy strut. He pictures his fingers encircling that shaft, pale skin on dark, the purplish-red bulbous tip bubbling over with pre-cum that sparkles like stars in the night sky…
“Bill.”
Angie’s elbow almost knocks him over. At the dazed look he turns her way, she shakes her head. “I’m calling security.”
Bill catches her arm before she gets too far. “I said I’d handle it.”
“Well?” With a jerk of her head, she reminds him they’re heading out. “Whatever you plan to do, you better do it now.”
His palms are suddenly clammy, his throat tight. Wiping his hands on his slacks, he straightens his tie and reminds himself he’s the night manager. This is hisstore. Even if the guys aren’t stealing, Angie can get him into a lot of trouble if she decides to report his lack of action to the general manager. Sheila would review the security tapes, see the same suspicious activity Angie picked up on, and he’d never hear the end of it. Best to handle it now.
When he clears his throat, he realizes he’s scared. He doesn’t want to do this. But the resolute set of Angie’s jaw tells him he has to, if he doesn’t want to lose face. Damn it.