Weird People

Part of working at Cherished was acting as a personal stylist for those shoppers who weren't sure how to incorporate vintage clothes into their wardrobes. When it came to making sure their clients left looking good and feeling attractive, Valentine gave it her all: tact, charm, sense of style, and ability to flatter.

"Honestly, you have an amazing eye. That cardigan is gorgeous, and so is that dress," Valentine told the girl. "But putting them together…I think they fight for dominance. Here, take the cardigan off for a moment."

The girl was shopping for a dinner dance at her school. After some browsing, the girl had decided on a flowery Jessica McClintock dress from the early eighties, but then she wanted to wear it with a fancy cardigan from the fifties, and the result looked messy. It didn't help that the cardigan was a little too small. Reluctantly, she took off the cardigan and set it aside.

Valentine draped a knitted ivory stole around the girl's shoulders. "There, see? Plus, you have well defined arms, and this shows them off."

"Oh! You're right!" The plain stole set off the dress like a plain jewelry box set off a diamond necklace. "I didn't realize the cardigan made my arms look a little bulky. This is better."

"I thought you'd like it. Archery Club, am I right?" Valentine asked.

"How did you know?"

Valentine winked and made a fist, flexing her bicep. "Takes one to know one."

"Sisters of the bow and arrow!" the girl said, and they shared a fist bump.

Once the girl made her purchase and left, Valentine took the time to dust and rearrange the hair accessories.

The door opened. "—don't know why you want to shop here," a woman's voice said.

"Mom, I just want to look around. Is that so wrong?" The teenage girl protested.

"We're wasting time. I don't want to waste money as well," the woman said.

"Welcome to Cherished! Is there something you're looking for, or would you just like to browse first?" Valentine greeted them, casting a sympathetic glance the girl's way as her mother chivvied her around the main room.

The woman noticed the look, and jabbed the girl's arm. "See, this is why you have to pull your grades up and get into college. You don't want to get stuck at a dead-end job in a thrift store like this!"

Valentine pasted on her brightest smile. "Cherished is not a thrift store. It is a medium to high end resale boutique. Working here for the last two years has taught me a lot about entrepreneurship and helped me overcome my shyness about talking to people I don't know. I think everyone should work either retail or in the restaurant business for a while; it teaches you how to deal with rude people better than anything else I know."

The girl's mother gasped and flushed red.

Continuing so the mother couldn't get a word in, Valentine went on. "Also, I am in college and my grades are just fine, thank you. I'm studying meteorology at Penn State and in a few months, I'm going to DC for my internship. Miss, if you think you would like to work here part time, just send a resume to this email address." She handed the girl a business card.

The mother reached down and ripped the card out of her daughter's hand. "I want to talk to your manager!"

"About what?" Evelyn asked, coming out of the back room. "Cherished, as she said, is not a thrift store, and your purse is a knockoff."

"I—you—I'm going to leave you a terrible review online!" The woman dragged her daughter out of the store by her arm.

"Good riddance," Evelyn said. "We can survive one or two bad reviews. But while we're on the topic of your internship—I know you're ready, but what about your wardrobe? You absolutely rock the sixties-seventies La Vie Boheme look, but DC is a bit more buttoned up."

"I have a navy blue suit, a pale grey suit, both with skirts and pants, blouses to go with them, and a few other business casual pieces," Valentine replied.

"Nothing else?" Evelyn asked.

"What else do I need?"

"Internships are only partly about real-world work experiences. They're also about networking and making connections with people who can help you out with your career. That means socializing.

"So, for that you need—one classic little black dress that can be dressed up or down with the right accessories and pieces, one cocktail dress that isn't black, one daytime dress that also isn't black, for brunches, lunches, or afternoon tea, and one evening gown in case you go to the Kennedy Center."

"All of that? Just for a twelve week internship?" Valentine asked.

"Yes. If you plan to take full advantage of the opportunity, that is. If you're going to be a TV meteorologist, you'll need to impress as many people as you can. Anyway, keep an eye out for pieces you like around here and put them on hold." Evelyn went back into the stockroom.

After that, the day went on as usual. Most of the shoppers were perfectly nice people. However, there were a couple of people who were promoting their religion and a man trying to get them to carry his line of bottled kombucha tea. Those people were not nearly as strange as the pair who came in just before Valentine was about to leave for the day.

The first thing she noticed about them was how similar their eyes were. Not because of their color; hers were blue and glassy, his were muddy brown—but they both had dark, bruised looking circles around them. They almost looked like they were wearing masks.

The second thing she noticed was that the woman looked particularly strange because she looked Asian, aside from her eyes and her blonde hair, which was done up in an elaborate braid. It did not look like she had dyed it, either.

The third thing was that they both smelled a little like raw meat and unwashed feet.

"Welcome to Cherished! Is there something in particular you're looking for, or would you just like to browse first?" she asked as she always did.

"Actually, yes." The woman sounded like she was sucking on a hard candy. "Uh—were you adopted from China as a baby, by any chance?"

"As it happens, yes, I was, but I don't see how that is relevant to helping you find clothes," Valentine retorted.

"How old are you?" the woman persisted.

"Okay, that crosses the line into way too creepy. If—hey! HEY!"

While the woman was interrogating her, the man had taken advantage of her distraction, snuck behind the counter, and snagged her purse.

Valentine seized the nearest potential weapon at hand, which was a wooden clothes hanger. She smashed it down on his hand.

"OW!" he yelled, dropping her purse.

"Get the h**l out of here right now before I call the police!" Valentine shouted. The pair scrambled over each other on the way out the door.

"What's going on?!" Evelyn popped out of the back room.

"I don't even know! These weird people came in and asked if I was adopted from China, then the guy tried to make off with my purse."

"Okay, I've been in retail a long time, and that beats everything I have ever seen. Even the guy who slapped his wife while they were waiting in line," Evelyn frowned. "What's that on the floor? Some kind of makeup of yours?"

There was a purplish goo next to Valentine's purse, which had fallen open when it hit the floor.

"Eww….I don't know. I don't own anything that color." Valentine looked at it. "—I think it's eating a hole in the carpet!"

"You're right!" Evelyn went to the cleaning cupboard and came back with several spot cleaners. Whether it was one of the cleansers or the goo lost its potency, something stopped the hole from spreading more than an inch or two.

"Was it something that guy had on him?" Evelyn asked.

"I guess it must have been," Valentine said. "This is really freaky. Well, they're gone, anyway. When I go to my car I'll have my phone out and my finger on Emergency Call."

Outside the shop, a figure sat hunched on a bench, his face buried in a hoodie sweatshirt.

If anyone bothered to peek under the hood, they would have seen a young Asian man who at first glance, was very good looking, at least when looking at his right profile.

The left side of his face was marred by a large red birthmark which reached from forehead to cheekbone, covering his eyelids. It was as though someone had splashed his face with thick, viscous raspberry syrup. An even closer look would have revealed that he had a red patch on the sclera of his eye, like a second pupil.

He was waiting. The two he was hunting had left the store, but they had only gone around the corner. Their dirty auras, like the purple of viscera, were clearly visible to his left eye's Sight.

However, the one they were hunting, the one inside the store, she sparkled like the sun on fresh snow. Was she the one they were looking for? Was she the reason they had killed his sister?

Useless to speculate at the moment. All he could do was wait.