Dirty Deals With The Devil

Chapter 11. || Cinnamon And Chokeholds||

I couldn't breathe.

The large hand was firmly clamped on my throat, restricting any such luxury such as breathing. I fought the hand, desperately clawing at it when she spoke. I was startled to look at the face of my strangler and discover that it was in fact a giant woman.

There were no other words to describe her safe from giant. The clear hairnet she had on did nothing to cover her short, mousy brown hair framing her square jawed face which held the first bearings of a sprouting moustache. A mole stood out on her cheek and her huge blossom rose up and down rapidly as her large, frying pan sized hands continued gripping my neck.

"Johnson!" She yelled, and my ears temporarily went out of commission then I heard static. "This chica is what's chasing you?"

I could understand why she called me chica, most people tended to do that because of my exotic looks. My dad was part Latin and part Mexican and I had his skin color which resembled the inside of an almond, alongside those distinctive exotic features. I hadn't been called that in a long time though, most people around here already knew me too well.

The woman seemed to consider me for a moment, then loosened her hold on my neck a bit, probably after deeming me harmless. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Blake move around the kitchen and he gave a reply my brain couldn't comprehend now.

"You scared of girls now?" The giant woman taunted, snorting and giving a boisterous laughter. She sounded more like a man than a woman, I noticed sourly.

"No," I heard Blake scoff and I could picture him rolling his eyes. "Just that particular one."

The giant woman peered at me carefully. "Yes, she does have those creepy, big, black eyes," she said, speaking as if I wasn't in the room with them.

"I know, right? Those eyes are just so weird." I heard Blake say. "She's been out to get me since the first day of school, I dunno what her deal with me is."

I want your soul. I fucking want your soul so badly.

"Please. Let. Me. Go," I managed to bring out, my eyes glued to her ugly mole, wondering how it got that big.

"Yeah, Gladys, you should probably release her. She's turning blue." Blake sounded bored and I heard Gladys grunt in consent then release my neck immediately. I dropped to the musty kitchen floor and took fast, shallow breaths to bring my respiratory system back to normal. My neck felt bruised and I raised a hand to it, slowly massaging it while feeling the eyes of both kitchen occupants on me.

All this trouble, just for one soul. The Devil was a fucking bastard. After this was over, I hoped we wouldn't meet ever again.

"What now?" Blake asked, I looked up to see him stare up at Gladys. Yes, she was way taller than him and that was saying something seeing as Blake was about 6ft.

"I'll get rid of her," Gladys told him gruffly, slapping his back hard in an act that looked like it was meant to reassure him but just nearly knocked him glasses off. She shot him a sheepish grin then bent to grab a hold of me by the neck of my sweatshirt.

I was scared now. Get rid of me? Gladys looked more than capable of murder.

"Guys, please let me go," I pleaded as she heaved me up with barely any effort. "Let's talk about this. Blake, you know we're friends right?"

As Gladys took me out the back door, if Blake heard me or at the most, pitied me, it didn't show as he turned to his waiter's notebook and scribbled on it with a pen. Gladys shoved me out of the kitchen and into a long passage way, it had French doors at the end of it that led to  main shop, I guessed.

Maybe she was just taking me back, I thought as the giant pushed me along. I could still hear the rain faintly pounding on the roof of the building.

"Gladys, Blake and I are friends. Really."

"Oh, shut up," she snapped and I quickly did so. There was a closed brown door, few feet to the French doors and Gladys surprised me by pushing me against the door. She pounded on the door, rattling it from it's hinges and once again, my ears heard static.

"Come in, Gladys," a weary voice called from inside. Obviously, whoever it was was well aware of Gladys' sheer brutality. She opened the door and pushed me into the small office, it was sparsely furnished with just a desk, an armchair behind the desk and two other wooden chairs. A small bookcase with dusty, old books graced a corner of the room. A man in stood by the only window in the room, watching the rain drops spread down the windows slowly. He looked really old and frail, with a head and beard full of white hair and tiny spectacles, he looked kind of like Santa, if Santa wore slacks and blue sweaters.

A waft of cinnamon blew at me and I observed the plate of cinnamon rolls sitting on the desk, I was instantly hungry. Gladys was speaking now.

"She was harassing one of the staff, sir."

"I was only trying--" I was saying but she cut me off rudely.

"I don't remember asking you to speak, Chica." She frowned and the mole seemed to twitch.

"That's enough, Gladys," the old man said, softly. "You may leave, I'll take care of her."

Gladys grunted and for the first time, I looked past her face and noticed the pink, tunic gown she had on along with the weather beaten brown boots. She adjusted the clear hairnet then stormed out without a word, leaving the man and I.

At this point, I was half expecting the old man to morph into the devil so I was surprised when he smiled a warm, friendly smile which made his brown eyes crinkle at the edges. He gestured at the window.

"This rain doesn't seem to want to stop, does it?" He didn't seemed pleased or displeased about it. "Sit down, dear child."

I obeyed then shuffled to sit on one of the wooden chairs. I wondered if he would ask me to help myself to one of those sweet smelling rolls. He gestured at them with an encouraging nod and I murmured a 'thank you'.

They tasted every bit as delicious as they looked.

"I'm Phil. Phil Duncan." Phil's Teas.The man settled in his armchair and peered at me from behind spectacles. "And you are?"

"Ruby Davies." I paused in the act of taking another bite of the delicious treat. "And I swear, I wasn't trying to harass your staff, Blake and I are--"

He waved me off, heartily. "I can never understand the way you children think, besides, I'm very sure Gladys has punished you enough."

The bruise on my neck came to mind and I nodded along to what he was saying.

"And I'm sorry," he apologized, sincerely. "Gladys tends to go overboard, sometimes, but at least she made those rolls you seem to be enjoying."

My eyes popped. Gladys made this? I could picture Gladys ding something other than strangling people to their deaths. The idea of her baking seemed as comical as the Devil having a bake sale.

But then stranger things have happened.

"How old are you, Miss Davies or Ruby, if I may call you that?" This white haired man was polite to the core, an endearing quality he had.

"Yes, Ruby is fine." I hesitated. "I'm turning 18 this month end." September 1st was my birthday.

"You're still in high school, I presume?"  He placed both hands on the table, face set in deep concentration.

"Yeah, Blake and I are classmates."

Then this Santa doppelganger gave me one of the best shots I've had at succeeding at this mission since I had begun. My number 22 tattoo burned searingly.

"Ruby, how'd you like an offer to work here?"