Chapter Text
Alba, Texas. A town where dreams went to die. That didn’t stop anyone from chasing them though.
Most of the town had dreams that consisted of money, comfort, climbing up the ranks. Dreams built on survival. There wasn’t much more you could chase with unpaid bills clogging up the mailbox.
Mandy was much the same.
She started where everyone else did: dead end jobs and petty crime. You had met her in the summer. She had strolled into the convenience store you worked at, larger than life. It was a slow day. You’d been left alone to man the store. Hadn’t been another customer in sight all day. You had taken this reprieve to observe the woman standing in the aisles, raking your eyes up and down her figure.
Every garment she was wearing fit her perfectly. You’d reckon they were tailored. Probably by her. That skill would get her far in nicer communities, but you took a second to thank the Lord she’d used it for herself here. Adorning her feet were a pair of high heels. High enough any respectable member of the community would raise an eyebrow. Her hair was bleached. Eyebrows drawn on.
She was beautiful.
And stealing. You jolted back into awareness, meeting eyes that were looking back at you. She had been waiting for you to notice if the smirk on her face was anything to go by. She tucked the pack of candy straws into her purse before rummaging through it with a single hand, never once breaking eye contact. Her hand stilled as she grasped whatever it was she was searching for.
“Hey, what on earth are you doing?” You exclaimed. There were not many times you were genuinely caught off guard by shoplifters. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence over the years you’d been here. But there was something about the way she looked at you.
She wasn’t the least bit scared, nor regretful you’d caught her. She hadn’t tried to run. She was staring like you were a child that had the nerve to talk back to their parent. As if you were the one doing something wrong.
“If you just put that back, we won’t have any trouble, ma’am. Cross my heart.” You motion over your left breast. Her eyes finally dropped to follow your movement, lingering before making their way back to your face.
“Darlin’, I’m gonna need you to find that pretty little brain I know is in there, and shut your mouth real quick. I ain’t in trouble. I am the trouble.” She pulled a small handgun out of her purse and wasted no time pointing it directly at your chest.
You stared stupidly as she walked closer, trying to make sense of the escalation of the situation.
“Be a dear and empty out that register for me.” She drawled.
“Ma’am, I-”
“Now.”
You scrambled for the keys. It took a few tries to slip them into the lock, but eventually you were able to pop the register open. She tossed her purse on the desk between you.
You looked down at the gun barrel, debating the speed you could call the police and the actual danger of the weapon. You had no idea if it was even loaded. If she could even use it. With a raise of her eyebrow, you decided it was not worth the risk. This was Texas after all. You loaded the bag with the contents of the register, hands shaking. As you did, you noticed her writing on the notepad you kept on the desk. The gun was no longer pointed at you, but by her side.
Your fingers inched toward the phone on the other side of the register.
One more slight movement, and your hand would have been on the keys. Unfortunately, that was the moment she chose to look up from her distraction. A shot was fired. Your eyes closed, waiting for the pain to hit.
“A warning shot, sweetheart. Open those eyes, and don’t try that again.” She grabbed you by the collar of your shirt. Pulled you close enough you could feel the gun against your body. Feel her lips against your ear. You shuddered involuntarily in her grasp.
“Are you scared?” She punctuated her question with a poke of her gun to your ribs. You nodded against her, head hitting her shoulder.
“Good.” She pushed you off her and grabbed her bag. Heading for the doors, she turned to look over her shoulder.
“My name and number are on that little to do list of yours. Give me a call if you want to earn some of this money back.” She laughed lightly to herself as your jaw dropped in shock or offense or desire. Neither of you could quite tell.
“I’m going to call the police.” You yelled after her.
“Good luck with that, honey. You and I both know how helpful they are ‘round these parts.”