Just 4 Play. Cindi Myers
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bottles from the carton and lining them up on the shelves. She ignored them, but the tension in her shoulders told Mitch she was listening to every word that was said.
“Yes, I’ve met Jill,” he said. “She was giving me a personal tour of the store.”
A pyramid of plastic bottles fell with a crash and Jill knelt to gather them up. “Let me help you.” In three strides, Mitch was beside her, helping her gather up the bottles. He read the label on one. “Kama Sutra Sensation. Have you tried this one?”
The go-to-hell look she gave him might have wounded a lesser man. “Why didn’t you tell me you were the owner instead of letting me go on like that?” she asked.
“You didn’t exactly give me a chance.” All the bottles reclaimed, he offered his hand.
She hesitated before taking it and allowing him to pull her to her feet. “I must say, I was impressed with your sales technique,” he said. “You shouldn’t have any trouble finding another job.”
“Another job!” She shoved the bottles onto the shelf and faced him, hands on her hips. “You’re going to fire me just because I didn’t know you were the new boss?”
“Not fire you. But you’ll need to find another job when I close the place down.”
“What do you mean, close?” Sid hurried over to them.
Mitch looked around at the costumed mannequins, the cabinets full of condoms and oils and lingerie and fetish toys, finally letting his gaze come to rest on Jill’s pixie face, all flashing eyes and pouting mouth. “Uncle Grif might have gotten a kick out of this place, but now that he’s left it to me, I intend to close it and use the space to open a restaurant.” He nodded toward the reshelved massage oil. “I think most people are more interested in Kung Pao than Kama Sutra, don’t you?”
“You’d better take a look at those books again,” Sid said. “This place makes way more money than any restaurant would.”
“Oh, I don’t think this has anything to do with the money, Sid.” Jill crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him.
“No, it isn’t about the money.” Mitch looked her in the eye, resisting the temptation to let his gaze drop lower, to her very enticing cleavage. “It’s a personal decision.”
Sid frowned. “Come again?”
“Mr. Landry doesn’t think we’re respectable,” Jill said. “He’s embarrassed.”
“Ohhhh.” Sid nodded and clapped him on the back. “Go take a look at those books again, dude. You’ll get over your embarrassment, I guarantee.”
Mitch shoved his hands into his pockets. “I have a younger sister, and business associates. I’ll admit I don’t care to have them know I own a business that sells ten kinds of dildos and fur-lined handcuffs.”
“Twenty,” Jill said.
He blinked. “Twenty what?”
“We have twenty kinds of dildos.” She took a step toward him, backing him up against the armoire. “And we have hundreds of satisfied customers. Just 4 Play provides a needed service in the community.”
“By selling musical condoms and Ben Wa beads?”
“No, by selling fantasy. And fun.” She leaned closer, until the tips of her breasts almost brushed against him. “Something you apparently haven’t had enough of in your life.”
“Life is about more than fun.” He forced himself to ignore the enticing aroma of jasmine that surrounded her. “I have work to do. Responsibilities.” He straightened. “And a reputation to protect, whether you agree with that or not.”
She stepped back, a scornful expression on her face that might have been more effective if it hadn’t made him think of the I Dream of Jeannie reruns he’d seen on Nick at Night.
“Just 4 Play has a reputation too,” she said. “And it’s not as bad as you seem to think. You haven’t even been here an hour and already you’re making judgments. You ought to at least give us a chance to show you what this place, and our customers, are really like.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I can’t do that. The architects are all ready to draw up the plans and I’ve started the paperwork for the construction loan and building permits.”
Sid’s shoulders slumped. “So when do we shut the doors?”
“You have a month.” He waved his hand at the shelves of bottles, boxes and gadgets, avoiding Jill’s angry face. “You’d better start marking things down.” He checked his watch. In thirty minutes, he had to meet Lana at the bank. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
Jill caught up with him at the door. “Isn’t there anything we can do to change your mind?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Not a thing. I’m the kind of man who, when I make up my mind to do something, it stays made up.” He hadn’t put himself and his sister through school and started his own real estate business by being wishy-washy.
“You say that as if it’s a virtue.”
Her words caught him off guard. He studied the toes of his shoes for a moment, then looked up at her. “I guess if you think life is all about fun, it isn’t,” he said. He nodded goodbye and opened the door.
He thought he’d gotten the last word, but right before the door shut, her voice drifted to him. “If you don’t have fun, you don’t have a life, Mr. Landry. Too bad no one ever taught you that.”
JILL SLAMMED THE DOOR SHUT on Mitch Landry, then turned and punched Blow-Up Betty right in the stomach. “I can’t believe he would do this to us!”
Betty swung back and forth on her stand until Sid moved over to steady her. “Careful with the merchandise, sister.”
She brushed by Sid and began to pace. “I mean, how can he waltz in here, take one look around and decide to shut us down?”
“He’s the owner. He can do anything he wants.” Sid walked over to the cash register and slumped onto the stool behind the counter. “I guess we’d better start looking for other jobs.”
“I don’t want another job.” Jill didn’t stamp her foot, but she wanted to. This was one of those times when an all-out temper tantrum would have felt good. “I want to keep this one. There must be something we can do.”
“You heard the man. He’s got the architects working already. In another few months people will be ordering up fried rice where the costume rack is now.” He picked up the paper and opened it to the classified ads. “There must be something in here I could do.”
Jill hurried over to him and grabbed his arm. “Sid, you don’t want to get another job.”
His eyebrow ring rose. “I don’t?”
“No. If you get another job, they’ll make you change your hair. Or get rid of your jewelry.” She leaned closer, her voice almost a whisper. “They’ll make you wear a suit. And a tie.”
Sid put a hand to his throat. “A tie?” He shook his head. “There must be something I can do where I don’t have to wear a tie.”
“Not and still have the title of manager. Even the manager of McDonald’s wears a tie. Plus, anyplace else you go to work, you’re liable to have to be there at eight o’clock, or even earlier.”
“Eight in the morning?” Just 4 Play opened at 11:00 a.m. and closed at 10:00 p.m. For a night owl like Sid, 8:00 a.m. might as well be the middle of the night. He laid aside the paper and gave her a stricken look. “What can we do?”
“We have to change his mind.”
“How? We only have a month.” He looked around the store. “By then we might be sold out of everything.”