Where are we going? Not back to the store…
“No, of course not. Never. Don’t give it a second’s thought.” She pulled out her ipod, began scrolling through entries, looking for something calming and familiar.
What will they say when you go back tomorrow without me?
“I quit. And anyway, they don’t know I took you, they think I threw you in the dumpster. I told Maurice—”
They think you what?
“Relax. I told Maurice you were broken and hid you in the loading dock, and then put out another mannequin. Maurice didn’t seem to care.” She shook her head.
“You’ll like it at my house. There are friends for you, and lots of clothes — I made them all myself — and no kids to knock you over or look up your skirt or anything.”
I’m so glad; I can’t wait. And you didn’t even have to kill anyone.