The Trunk

MARCO MARTINS

The slim blonde at the counter eyed the bottle in my hand.

“Is that all?” She asked, judging me with her eyes.

She wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“Judging a man for alcohol?” I questioned her.

I held the bottle and checked the price tag.

Sixty nine dollars and ninety nine cents.

“I’m not,” she said. “But its ten o’clock in the morning,” she said like it was nothing.

The blonde haired took my bottle and the computer beeped.

Bright eyed, she turned to me. “Sixty nine dollars and ninety nine cents.”

I pulled out a hundred dollar note and paid.

From the corner of my eyes, someone got my attention.

She looked slightly different but I couldn't make a mistake of who she was.

It was Cleo Garcia. Her hair was parked in a bun. Her sharp chin leaned forward.

“Keep the change,” I said and walked out of the line.

“I need to put that in a ba—” The blonde called out to me.

She stopped and sighed, accepting that I didn't need a bag.

I heard her acknowledge the next person on the line just as I ducked away.

Cleo took a moment to think. She looked around the store. Just before she could take her turn, I was in front of her.

“Cleo Garcia?” I called her name, grabbing her attention.

She turned to me. Cleo recignized me in an instant.

She smiled warmly, opening her mouth to speak. “Marco Martins of M & M!” Cleo declared. “What are you doing here?”

Cleo gripped her bag in front of her. Her dentition was clean and neat so her smile was bright.

Her lipstick was a bold crimson and her face was touched up with powder and mascara.

“I came to grab this,” I said and held the bottle up. “I hope you're not judging me.”

Cleo chuckled for a quick minute. “Don’t worry. Your drinking habits are safe with me.” As an after thought, she added, “as long as you don't have a drinking problem, then it’s okay.”

Her mouth pressed together. Her brows furrowed and I felt the laughter travel up my throat.

“Do you have a drinking problem?” Cleo rushed out.

She narrowed her gaze at me and I threw my head back in laughter. “Darling if I had a drinking problem, my life wouldn't be this arranged” I declared with pride.

I fell instep beside Cleo. I followed her down the maze of body mists and lotions.

“I was a little surprised that you recognized me,” I causally mentioned.

Cleo picked out a shopping cart and I offered to hold it for her.

“Why?” Cleo asked just as she grabbed the first stuff off a shelf.

“We never got your call after I offered you a job.” I said as a matter of fact.

I had been contemplating having someone reach out to her. The only reason I didn't do it was because I didn’t want to hoot her horn.

She was good enough, though. Worthy to have her horn hooted.

Cleo dropped an item inside the basket. She paused. “That offer was real?”

I was taken aback. “It didn't seem real?” I asked her, trying to make sense of what was happening.

Cleo slapped her palm across her head. “It did,“ she said slowly. “There was just a lot going on that day. I don’t know…”

I wanted to laugh. So if I didn’t run into Cleo, I wod not have known that she felt our proposal was a lie.

How could I be joking about such a thing?

“You don’t know how serious I was or you don’t know if you want the offer?” I asked Cleo.

I picked up from where her voice trailed off.

Cleo tried talking but she smiled instead.

“Whatever you’re getting paid,” I continued “We will offer you a hundred percent increase of that for starters,” I finished proudly.

I dangeled the offer in front of her. I was ready to offer her that much.

Her writing style was smooth and she had a following online. I knew where and who to invest money in.

Cleo on the team was an investment that would surely yield returns.

“Okay?” Cleo let out, softly laughing.

She nodded. “Give me one week to submit a notice at my present office.”

“One week,” I agreed.

I agreed to her terms.

Cleo burst into a momentary chuckle.

She was smiling when she spun towards the shelf. “Okay,” she said again, fully accepting that this was true.

Cause it was.

***

I spent my time with Cleo being her baggage holder.

We argued about our preferred scents and talked about Isa and Enzo’s relationship.

Cleo‘s dad came up a lot in the conversation.

I heard about her days in college and a publication she started which almost landed her a disciplinary strike.

She was daring, like me. An adventurer.

Her eyes held tales and she beamed a lot.

When we were done, I paid for her stuff.

She thanked me and I offered to drop her at her current place of work.

“You don’t have to get a cab,” I said as we walked to my car. “I don’t have any place to be right now.”

My audi was parked right ahead, a pearl white symbol of luxury and speed.

Cleo walked ahead of me, then turned, walking backward so she could face me.

“You love my company,” Cleo said, grinning from ear to ear. “Next are you going to ask to follow me to my office?” She teased me and bit her lips.

Cleo turned around before I could answer.

Her heels clicked against the cobblestone floor.

“You can invite me to your office without tricking me to do it,” I told Cleo.

I gave her my smart mouth answer. I matched her game of tease.

I pressed my car key.

The lights flashed and the doors unlocked.

“Please help me get the trunk,” I asked politely since she was ahead of me.

She lifted it and I dropped her bags inside the trunk.

I bended slightly and my shirt hiked up.

“What do we have here?” Cleo’s interest piqued.

She touched my waistband.

An alarm went off in my head. I knew that if she saw the gun, she would have all sort of wide ideas.

And questions I wasn't prepared to answer.

Unable to afford such a mistake, I turned sharply.

I had to act fast, and that I did.

I pushed her hair back, held the back of her head and planted my lips on hers.

Softly, I brushed her lips and she froze.