Abigail Barnette - Where We Land

WHERE WE LAND

Abigail Barnette

Thank you to Bronwyn Green, for never shaming me for writingthe Ed Sheeran version of After , and for telling me to write aHEA epilogue, even though she hates epilogues.

Where We Land, Copyright 2019Abigail Barnette

TABLE OFCONTENTS

ChapterOne

ChapterTwo

ChapterThree

ChapterFour

ChapterFive

ChapterSix

ChapterSeven

ChapterEight

ChapterNine

ChapterTen

ChapterEleven

Epilogue

Chapter One

The chimesabove the door at Sugar Magnolia, the only store in Kalamazoo thatcould meet the needs of both stoners and disc golf enthusiastsalikealthough there was a staggering overlap of those twodemographicsheralded the arrival of customers who annoyed LaurenScott on sight. Though working at a headshop was as chill a job asshe could have ever hoped for, the proximity of the store toWestern Michigan Universitys campus led to Friday night influxesof feral white bros like the ones who strolled through thedoor.

Hey, guys! shecalled with her best customer service voice. Howre you all doingtonight?

They weredoing high already, judging from the cloud of stench that clung totheir hoodies, polo shirts, and cargo shorts. Lauren couldappreciate a nice, lingering pot scent, but Axe body spraywas not asuccessful cover for cheap ditch weed hot-boxed in somebodys car.They ignored her greeting and headed over to the racks of Frisbees,pausing to laugh uproariously at a blown glass pipe shaped likePickle Rick.

Letting herId-be-happy-to-help smile drop, she hid behind the display ofincense on the counter. She pulled a stick of strawberry from oneof the jars and lit it up, hoping to cover the Eau du Bro .The strip mall Sugar Magnolia resided in stood directly across thestreet from the campuss west exit and within spitting distance ofa number of fraternity and sorority houses. Despite the recentlegalization law, selling marijuana was still prohibited, and copsstopped in plenty to make sure the store only dealt in smokingaccessories. A tobacco shop couldnt afford to reek ofpot.

She checkedthe time on her phone and tipped her head back, closing her eyes infrustration. She still had two hours to go. God, I hope Jason gets back from break before the Abercrombie& Dick crew starts asking to see every damn item in thecase.

The plastic showercurtain that served as the back rooms door pushed open, rattlingon its rings. Jason stepped out and, at the sight of the customers,ducked behind the incense display with her. He peered through aplexiglass case of Zippos, studying the customers intently. Heglanced to Lauren, put his thumb on his chin, and flexed his indexfinger twice in the ASL sign for Who?

She held her handbelow the counter and fingerspelled B-R-O-S.

Becoming friends withJason in ASL 101 had been one of the top five smartest things sheddone in college. It was possibly the only useful thing shed donebefore dropping out.

Jason rolled his eyesand grabbed a fitted baseball cap from beneath the counter. He slidit on backward, unlatched his hemp necklace, and stood up,outfitted for battle.

Hey, whats good,yall? he called to the group of decidedly caucasian dudes whoseresponse when faced with the possibility of talking to a cool blackguy was nothing short of ecstatic. Lauren shook her head fondly.Jason was like a chameleon, able to shift from mode to modedepending on the customer. Acting was a way of life, he was fond oftelling her. Customer service gave him a chance to hone his craftoutside of his classes and rehearsals. Shed once watched himassist sales with a stoner Frolf enthusiast, an old-schoolmetalhead, and a bachelorette party at the same time, somehowfinding a persona that could relate to all three at once. Thechimes jingled again. Lauren glanced up.

The guy who loweredhis head as he walked through the door really didnt need to. Hewas kind of short. His shaggy ginger hair was tousled like it hadbeen recently rubbed vigorously with a towel. A red plaid shirtopen over a faded Frankenstein tee and jeans ripped at the kneemarked him out as a likely time traveler from the 1990s, but heseemed more shy than suspicious, so she didnt worry too much abouthim causing trouble or shoplifting. Which was good. The door hadbarely closed when it flew open again, and her roommate, Chelsea,whipped in like a hurricane. And Hurricane Chelsea required a lotmore attention than some nerd who didnt look like he exactlycraved interaction with salespeople.

Damnit.Im probably going to have to bust a hobbit forshoplifting.

Hey, bitch! Chelseadrew out the word in a long, nasal delivery that made Laurens skincrawl with unease. The higher Chelseas voice pitched, the morelikely she was to be angling for something. I need like, thetiniest little favor.

Of course,you do. What favor? Ill decide how tinyit is.

So, I have a datewith that guy from Insta, Chelsea began, reaching into her pursefor her phone. Her fingers flew dramatically over the screen beforeshe turned it so Lauren could see. The Aaron Paul doppelganger hadbeen all Chelsea had been able to talk about for a week that hadfelt like a lifetime. But its like...tonight?

Laurens stomach sank.No. Nope, no, nope. Not tonight.

Please? Chelseawheedled, her hands clasped dramatically together, pressing thephone tight against her chest like a love letter in an ElizabethGaskell novel. I know you need the shift. I heard you ask Paul forextra hours.

Damnit . Chelsea had her there. Withthe recent hike in rentand Chelseas forgetfulness about thelast two electric billsLauren really did need a bigger paycheckthat week. But shed been working both of her jobs eight days in arow already, and Friday nights at Boogies were the worst.

Come on. It had to betonight? she asked impatiently. Douchebag with a guitarnight?

The Weasley standingby the staff picks bong display made a weird cross between asnort and chuckle. He glanced up guiltily, flushed at being caughteavesdropping, then averted his eyes again.

Ugh, fine, Laurengroaned. Im upping our Wonderwall bet, though.

Thats not fair!Chelsea whined.

Lauren shrugged andheld her hands up. Its not fair that Ive had to cover theelectricity for the past two months either.

Chelsea blew out along breath of frustration. Fifteen.

Lauren narrowed hereyes. Twenty. The last guy did an uncomfortably passionaterendition of All Star by Smash Mouth. Im notbudging.

Chelsea stamped herblack leather ankle boot on the cracked tile. Oh my God,fine!

You callPaul and tell him were switching. Im not off the clock here foranother couple of hours. Text me what he says. There. My Friday night signed away. Not that she would have been doing anything with it,anyway.

Chelsea shook herphone in the air in victory. Yes! Thank you! Youre the literal,literal best.

Yup. Lauren liftedher hand with a pained smile and watched Chelsea leave, the chimesabove the door singing again.

The ginger approachedthe counter, clearing his throat. Lauren was used to nervouscustomers. They usually didnt have an I.D. because they werenteighteen. This guy was definitely over eighteen. Maybe he was justgarden variety shy.

Did you want me toopen the case? she asked, nodding toward the display hed beenstudying.

He looked over hisshoulder, then said, Oh, no. Um, just a pack of Zig-Zags? Onehundred millimeters.

So, hedbeen waiting the entire time Chelsea had been there. A-plus customer service there, Lauren. Sorry about your wait.

He reached for hiswallet. No, its not a problem at all. I just didnt want tointerrupt.

Laurens brain pauseda second. People came to Kalamazoo from all over; three collegesand two major pharmaceutical companies made for an interesting mix.But an English accent wasnt one she heard a lot. It made the guyseem even more like a Weasley than before, and she smiled toherself as she turned to get the papers off the shelf. A HarryPotter joke would probably not be appreciated.