Everything Comes With A Price (The Grabber Fanfiction)

Martha

"Are you following me," the women asked in a rather playful tone. She parked the nose of her shopping wagon so close to Albert's that their carts were practically kissing.

Albert didn't often find himself speechless, yet here he was in his local Winn-Dixie getting bread, and milk with nothing to say. It wasn't everyday he found himself face to face with such a beauty.

"No, not at all," Albert stammered. "But I can start if you'd like," he said in an attempt to match her flirtatious delivery.

The woman stared at him, her jaw slightly open, and then a euphoric shrill of laughter exited her mouth. Not many people would find his sense of humor appropriate, let alone funny. It could have been a pity laugh, but there was too much thrill and excitement in it.

The women began to pluck off a swede glove she was wearing. "My name is Martha," she said and stuck out her hand.

Albert looked at her hand before he shook it. He took note of her beige nails. They were neatly painted and filed into an oval shape. Everything about her was neat, and nice, kept, and powdered. She was put perfectly in place and wrapped up in a red bow.

Albert was rough and jagged. He had dirt and blood under his nails, and as much as he scrubbed it wouldn't go away. He spent a long time working in his basement, on a secret room. Now that it was almost done, he didn't know what to do with himself. He didn't have a plan. He lived and breathed by the seat of his pants.

Martha would know what to do. Martha would have a plan. Hell, Martha knew what she was doing tomorrow since last July.

"And you are?" Martha raised her finely groomed brows. Albert stood there staring in utter awe, shaking her hand for far too long.

"Al—Albert," He choked out. "Do you come here often?" He had to remind himself to shut his jaw.

Martha giggled at the ridiculous question, "Do I come grocery shopping often? Only on the weeks I plan to eat." Her smile was playful, but like her eye's kind.

Even though she was giggling at him. She had done it so sweetly that it didn't bother him the way it would if someone else had done it.

"Right—heh," Albert looked down and smiled down at his shoes. He tried not to appear embarrassed. He shifted his weight, "Where do you live?"

"Albert," She lightly smacked his shoulder with her glove, "Am I going to have a stalker on my hands, at least take me to dinner first," she giggled. He could of swore she winked.

Albert looked at his shoulder as her glove grazed it. Albert chuckled, and smiled back at her, "My apologies. Do you live local, how about that? Is that too much to ask?"

"Actually, I just moved to Galesburg believe it or not. I'm still trying to find my way around."

He handed her an old business card. That read 'Abracadabra.' It had been a long time since he had done a kid's party. He figured it would be best to keep work and play separate. Plus, parents would get suspicious if kids were missing after every party he was at.

"My number is on the back." he grunted, as he shoved his wallet into his back pocket. "If you need anything give me a call."

"Well, aren't you a gentleman," she smiled widely at him.

Albert chuckled. It was funnier to him than to her. She hadn't known the cold honest truth. Which was that Albert Shaw was just about the worst, twisted man she'd ever meet.

"I've lived here for fifty years, if anyone knows this town it's me."

"That's good to know," she said, and her eyes lingered on him. She was sizing him up. Feeling him out so to speak. "I guess I'll be seeing around again soon, right?"

Albert almost speechless and taken aback by her forwardness.

"Right."

***

Albert pulled into his driveway. Albert let out a groan of frustration when he saw the lamp in his living room shining through the curtains. Most night his brother stayed out till the early hours of the morning—tonight was not one of those nights, but oh how he wished it was.

Albert had every good intention of having Maxwell stay with him, while he was working through his vices. Though Albert was never one for expressing his well intent aloud. And the thought of walking inside to see Max passed out on the couch made his blood boil. Albert enjoyed his solace hence why he sat in the van for a few moments longer.

He thought about his little room downstairs, it was the only source of pleasure in his miserable life. He was itching to get someone down there—Anyone it didn't matter who. Albert spent months perfecting the basement. Much like Maxwell, Albert had a few vices of his own; Only Albert's weren't as socially acceptable.

Albert kept to himself, aside from the occasional get-together. But Albert never brought his lovers back to his place, everything he needed could be done in the trunk of his van. Though Albert's cock twitched thinking about the reaction his nighttime flings would have had at the sight of that dimly lite room. He could hear their distress screams, and the click of the deadbolt.

Then his thoughts wandered to Martha—Sweet Martha; she would never understand. They were from two different worlds, and their brief conversation was the closest thing he would ever have to a woman like her.