Private Consent by Kay Hadashi

Author:Kay Hadashi [Hadashi, Kay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-04-20T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

June ran across the busy intersection, dodging morning traffic. There were as many motor scooters as there were cars, and they proved to be more difficult to evade. Once she was across, she hurried down the sidewalk, hoping she was hidden beneath the trees and behind parked cars. As far as she was concerned, whoever had just shot Brandon could just as easily shoot her. It took very little imagination for her to see them get in a car, drive down the street in search of her, and once they found her…

“I need different clothes.”

She was on a commercial street, modern stores and offices mixed with apartment buildings. It looked middle class, maybe hipster in a Greek sort of way. When she came to a ladies clothing store, she ducked in, more to hide than to shop.

A clerk came over to her. She was old enough that June suspected she was the owner. She began to speak Greek but stopped when she saw June’s face.

“Do you speak English?” June asked.

“A little.”

“I need an outfit. Tan, gray, brown, blue. Maybe a pants suit and a white blouse.”

“Your size?” the woman asked.

June looked out the front window, wondering if she’d been seen going into the shop. “Please.”

“Miss, what is your size?”

“Oh. Small or medium, American size four these days.”

The clerk looked June up and down for a moment. She took June’s hand in hers. “There is blood.”

That was the first time that June had noticed her hand was bleeding. With a closer look, her knuckle had been skinned from punching Brandon earlier. The bigger problem was that it was the same knuckle that had been bruised, and was just beginning to heal. Now that she’d noticed it, it started to throb.

“I’m sorry. I should wash my hands.”

“I have…” The woman took June to a small back room where she got out a first aid kit and some hand towelettes. While June cleaned the blood from her hand, the clerk prepared a couple of Band-Aids for the small wound.

“Thank you for doing this,” June said quietly. She felt a little embarrassed by the TLC that she was getting from a stranger.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt.”

“I mean to ask, are you okay from your man?”

“This wasn’t from a man.” She knew it was a lie, but she hadn’t defended herself for the reason that the clerk had assumed. “I was hit by a scooter.”

The clerk finished with the Band-Aids. “Yes, too many scooters these days.”

The clerk led June to a rack of comfortable but professional clothes. Quickly pushing hangers in her search, the colors were dark and muted, what June normally gravitated to in fashion. She found something that would work. The woman went with June to a changing room and waited outside the door.

“You are American?” the woman asked.

“It shows?”

“Americans. Always in such a hurry.”

“Busy people, aren’t we?” June looked out the changing room door. “Do you have undergarments?”

The woman left for a moment and returned with something more fashionable than what June had been expecting.

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