change.
“Only a moron would try to make a break for it with the weather what it is right now,” said Chad’s coworker, “but whoever it was, it looks like he means business.”
“If we’re locked in, that means the thief is stuck here, too,” Colin pointed out.
“What do you mean ‘locked in?’” I asked.
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” Dex, Chad, and I asked simultaneously.
“The citywide curfew. We’re not allowed to leave. Grady stopped by Cheeze Monkey about an hour ago and told us the mall was in lockdown until morning. Direct orders from the bigwigs at corporate. They’re afraid they’ll get sued if someone runs their car off the road leaving work, so we’ve got to wait till the snowplows make their initial rounds.”
“But how long will that take?” Chad said, glancing at his watch in dismay.
“Sunrise, if we’re lucky. Dude,” Dex elbowed Chad, “so much for your big night. Looks like you just got upstaged by a snowstorm.”
“I’ve got to go call Caleb,” Chad said. “He’s going to blow a gasket.”
“But they can’t just keep us here against our will!” I turned back to Colin, starting to fume.
“True in theory. You could sweet-talk Grady into unlocking the doors for you, I suppose. But your car is buried past its tires in snow right now. You want to try walking home? Because that’s suicide by snowbank.”
“So we’re
literally
marooned here for the night? With some shoplifter on steroids?” I sighed. “I’d better get back and let Ariel and the gang know what’s up.” My tone may have suggested concern for my defenseless coworkers, but in reality, I was semi-thrilled at the opportunity to relate the dramatic turn of events to a captive audience. I took off for the food court.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Come, Temperate Nymphs, and Help to Celebrate
“But I’m sure if the burglar is even the least bit competent, he’ll have had more than one exit strategy,” I said to Alfredo, who had joined us from upstairs and was listening to my update along with my fellow food courtesans. “He’s probably long gone by now.” I hoped I sounded a lot more confident than I felt.
Ariel looked unconvinced, so I changed the subject. “Since we’re trapped in this hell hole for the night, we might as well have some fun.” I stood up from my chair and clapped my hands. “Troy, you’re in charge of music. Turn off this Muzak crap and put on something we can dance to. And make it loud,” I called after him as he rushed off. Ignoring Ariel’s worried frown, I steered her back toward the Hot-Dog Kabob booth and shot a look at Alfredo to usher her the rest of the way.
“What’s going on?” my coworker said, unaware that she was about to get one of Alfredo’s Five-Minute Makeover treatments.
“I promise it won’t hurt,” Alfredo said. “Well, not unless tweezers are required.”
With Ariel out of earshot, I turned to Fro-Yo’s Derek, who looked at me expectantly.
“Take the Sloth Rocket,” I said, using our name for the vehicle that the decrepit janitorial director Simpson used to get from one end of the mall to the other. “Head over to Just Desserts, pick up Ariel’s cake, and get back here as quickly as you can.” I glanced at the clock adding, “Our guests should be arriving any minute now, and Alfredo can’t keep Ariel occupied for too long.”
I was standing on a chair hanging “streamers,” a.k.a. spools of receipt paper, from pillar to pillar when Caleb and Chad showed up. Funny those two being friends. Ballhead and the Beast.
“Chad! Glad you could make it!” I smiled, figuring he might be the best present I could give Ariel. “And if it isn’t Mr. Got Games himself … I thought you were too
coool
for our little party.”
“I never said that,” Caleb said, with a moody glare. “Figured since we’re stuck here for the night, I might as well come.”
“I’m sure Ariel will appreciate the colossal sacrifice.”
Chad shuffled from
“Only a moron would try to make a break for it with the weather what it is right now,” said Chad’s coworker, “but whoever it was, it looks like he means business.”
“If we’re locked in, that means the thief is stuck here, too,” Colin pointed out.
“What do you mean ‘locked in?’” I asked.
“You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what?” Dex, Chad, and I asked simultaneously.
“The citywide curfew. We’re not allowed to leave. Grady stopped by Cheeze Monkey about an hour ago and told us the mall was in lockdown until morning. Direct orders from the bigwigs at corporate. They’re afraid they’ll get sued if someone runs their car off the road leaving work, so we’ve got to wait till the snowplows make their initial rounds.”
“But how long will that take?” Chad said, glancing at his watch in dismay.
“Sunrise, if we’re lucky. Dude,” Dex elbowed Chad, “so much for your big night. Looks like you just got upstaged by a snowstorm.”
“I’ve got to go call Caleb,” Chad said. “He’s going to blow a gasket.”
“But they can’t just keep us here against our will!” I turned back to Colin, starting to fume.
“True in theory. You could sweet-talk Grady into unlocking the doors for you, I suppose. But your car is buried past its tires in snow right now. You want to try walking home? Because that’s suicide by snowbank.”
“So we’re
literally
marooned here for the night? With some shoplifter on steroids?” I sighed. “I’d better get back and let Ariel and the gang know what’s up.” My tone may have suggested concern for my defenseless coworkers, but in reality, I was semi-thrilled at the opportunity to relate the dramatic turn of events to a captive audience. I took off for the food court.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Come, Temperate Nymphs, and Help to Celebrate
“But I’m sure if the burglar is even the least bit competent, he’ll have had more than one exit strategy,” I said to Alfredo, who had joined us from upstairs and was listening to my update along with my fellow food courtesans. “He’s probably long gone by now.” I hoped I sounded a lot more confident than I felt.
Ariel looked unconvinced, so I changed the subject. “Since we’re trapped in this hell hole for the night, we might as well have some fun.” I stood up from my chair and clapped my hands. “Troy, you’re in charge of music. Turn off this Muzak crap and put on something we can dance to. And make it loud,” I called after him as he rushed off. Ignoring Ariel’s worried frown, I steered her back toward the Hot-Dog Kabob booth and shot a look at Alfredo to usher her the rest of the way.
“What’s going on?” my coworker said, unaware that she was about to get one of Alfredo’s Five-Minute Makeover treatments.
“I promise it won’t hurt,” Alfredo said. “Well, not unless tweezers are required.”
With Ariel out of earshot, I turned to Fro-Yo’s Derek, who looked at me expectantly.
“Take the Sloth Rocket,” I said, using our name for the vehicle that the decrepit janitorial director Simpson used to get from one end of the mall to the other. “Head over to Just Desserts, pick up Ariel’s cake, and get back here as quickly as you can.” I glanced at the clock adding, “Our guests should be arriving any minute now, and Alfredo can’t keep Ariel occupied for too long.”
I was standing on a chair hanging “streamers,” a.k.a. spools of receipt paper, from pillar to pillar when Caleb and Chad showed up. Funny those two being friends. Ballhead and the Beast.
“Chad! Glad you could make it!” I smiled, figuring he might be the best present I could give Ariel. “And if it isn’t Mr. Got Games himself … I thought you were too
coool
for our little party.”
“I never said that,” Caleb said, with a moody glare. “Figured since we’re stuck here for the night, I might as well come.”
“I’m sure Ariel will appreciate the colossal sacrifice.”
Chad shuffled from
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