This is just a piece of what I’ve been working on. I would love some feedback. The background story is, Shelly Pearson is a half human, half shape shifter living in Seattle and works at Thorton and Williams Advertising Agency. She must try to conceal her identity as a shifter, but she is trying to fit in as a human living in the city. This is only a small scene from my story.
The High Way Robbery
By Renee Lishka
There was something strange lingering in the air as I entered the usual Starbucks this morning. As I stood there in line, trying really hard not to show that I’m blushing as Nick stands so close to me, I couldn’t shake the smell of sulphur or gun powder. Something metal and more distinct than sets of keys. It was unusual and it was difficult for me to figure out where it was coming from. I kept looking around, looking at the woman behind me on her cell phone. The only scent coming from her was Coco Chanel No. 5. It nearly makes my nose bleed and you don’t have to be a shifter to smell that. As I scan the area, I suddenly pick up on it from someone. There was a guy in a black heavy parker two customers ahead of us. He looked agitated and the smell was strongest coming from him. He had his hands stuffed in his pocket and I could tell he was fidgeting with something. Then I heard it. The click.
“Oh shit,” I muttered to myself..
“What’s the matter?” Nick overheard.
“I think we need to get out of here,” I said.
I didn’t want to bother with an explanation. Instead I grab him by the wrist and pull him away from the line as quickly as possible.
“Everybody down!” The man shouts as he pulled out his gun.
Nick and I hadn’t even reached the door yet, and on instinct I tackled him to the floor and kept my head down.
“What the hell?” Nick muttered.
“Everybody shut up!”
The guy was yelling and holding the gun up like an amateur. I could tell he had never done this before. He looked nervous. The plight of liquor and desperation were clear. He’s robbing a Starbucks for God’s sake.
“G-g-give me all the money,” he stuttered.
The cashier nodded nervously and opened the cash register, collecting every bill and down to the last dime.
“Now the other,” he said.
He looked around him at all his hostages, making sure no one was moving.
“Put it in the bag!” He demanded.
As she stuffed the backpack with the bills, the robber looked over at the baristas behind the counter.
“Make yourselves useful!” He shouts. “Make me a fucking mocha!”
Giggling was on the brink of my lips and suddenly I find myself smirking into the skin of my folded arms.
“Shut up!” He shouted, pointing the gun at me.
“I’m sorry,” I said, trying to contain my laughter.
“Give me your wallet!”
“I don’t have a wallet,” I say. Only my boss’s credit card.
“Shut up! Give me his wallet then!”
He points the gun over at Nick. The gun rattled in his hand.
“Come on, give me your wallet!”
As the guy walks to where Nick and I are huddled on the floor, I catch a whiff of something more distinct than booze and weed. The scent of marijuana was sweating from his pores and I could see the high in his eyes.
“Hey,” he nods with a crescent smile, looking at me as Nick reached for his wallet. “You’re cute.”
Nick and I look at one another, puzzled.
“Thanks?” I say.
“Can I get your phone number later?”
I paused for a moment. Was this guy for real?
“You’re pointing a fucking gun at me!” I say.
In that instant he shook his head and focused his attention back on the cashier and the baristas.
“Did he want the wallet?” Nick says to me as he holds up the wallet.
“Oh my god, this guy is sad,” I said. “I should be posting this on YouTube.”
We both smirk and giggle, burying our faces into our arms. Who knew a robbery could be so amusing? Out of nowhere, police burst into the Starbucks demanding that the stoned, drunk, high robber freeze and put his hands up.