Accidentaly Divine by Dakota Cassidy (best large ereader .TXT) 📗

behind him as Joe-Joe ranted. “Well, he has a gun. It doesn’t feel like he’d never hurt a soul, George.”

But she knew Joe-Joe. Somehow, in this very moment, she knew his soul—his heart—and he’d never hurt anyone without cause.

“Open the cash register, boy! Open it now!” he hollered, his voice hoarse and cracked.

She bit the inside of her cheek. This was wrong. This was all wrong. “Something’s wrong, Dex. Something’s very wrong. I’m telling you, I see Joe-Joe at least three times a week and he’s a sweet, if not confused soul. Let me go help him,” she pleaded, prepared to push him out of the way if necessary.

But Dex turned, a frown on his beautiful face, his lips thinned into an angry line. “Absolutely not! You’ll get yourself killed. He’s got a gun, George!”

She thought about that for a moment, trying to make rational thoughts without panicking, but her hands were clammy and her heart raced. “Will I get myself killed, or am I already dead, Dex? Or at least half-dead? And didn’t you, in all the nutso things you told me I could do, say I was now immortal?”

“We don’t know that for sure, George. You’re half-human,” he whisper-yelled, clinging to her arm. “Listen to me, we don’t have specifics on a lot of things and I’m not taking any chances with your life.”

A shot rang out, loud and chilling, reverberating around the store with a crack, sending chills along her spine. “Hurry it up!” Joe-Joe screamed, now sounding quite desperate.

Her breathing became shallow and only seconds before she actually did it, she knew she was going to do something impulsive. But Joe-Joe was a good guy. He needed help.

Gripping Dex’s arm, she whispered, “Joe-Joe knows me. It’ll be okay,” before she pushed past Dex and made a break down the aisle, her heels clacking the entire way.

As the muzak played over the loudspeakers and she charged down the slippery tile of the aisle, passing various chips and candies, she didn’t think about anything other than the fact that Joe-Joe was a sweet, gentle man and something was making him do this. Something desperate.

When she rounded the corner, her eyes caught the fear-filled gaze of the young boy at the counter, his hands raised like two white flags, his long, stringy hair poking out beneath a red knit beanie.

George held her finger up to her mouth to keep him quiet as she approached Joe-Joe from behind—probably not the best tactic, but there wasn’t much of an alternative.

On a deep breath, she said, “Joe-Joe.”

He whipped around, his eyes wide and glassy beneath bushy black eyebrows. “What do you want?” he shouted.

But George held up her hands to show him she came in peace. “Don’t be frightened, Joe-Joe. Do you recognize me? From the coffee shop on Main? I’m George Maverick and I love your dog Sauerkraut. Is she outside? Maybe we should bring her in? It’s so cold, Joe-Joe—”

“Nooooo!” he wailed, waving the gun in her direction, the shiny end of it gleaming under the store lights. His gnarled hands gripped it so tight, his knuckles had gone white. “She’s not outside! They took her! They took her from me and put her in that cold, dirty shelter!”

Joe-Joe’s dog was everything to him. When he begged for money, it was always to feed Sauerkraut. “But you must know this isn’t the way to get the money, Joe-Joe, don’t you? How about you give me the gun and we’ll see what we can do about getting Sauerkraut?”

“No!” he howled. “They never listen!”

“Okay, Joe-Joe,” she said softly, inching closer to him, praying the boy at the register would read the room and make a break for the back door at the other end of the store. She was almost one hundred percent convinced Joe-Joe wouldn’t shoot anyone out of malice, but fear? Maybe. “Let’s talk about this, right? How can we make this better? Tell me what happened.”

She sensed Dex’s presence rather than saw him. He was stealthy as he snuck up behind them in the aisle next to where she stood, wiggling his fingers at her from behind an endcap of body spray before motioning to the cashier to make his escape through the back door.

Joe-Joe winced, scrunching his eyes shut and bending his knees as he appeared to fight some inner demon. He twisted his body around, tightening his grip on the gun and pointing it at her, his expression one of pure agony.

“You can’t make it better!” he yelped, the anxiety in his voice rising. “She got away from me today. Her leash is old and she was chasing a squirrel in the park and it broke and she got away. Those stupid people from animal control took her. Old Loretta saw ’em do it! Now they want money or they won’t give her to me. I need money!”

As the cashier made his way around the glass counter and scurried down an aisle toward the back, George sought to reassure Joe-Joe once more to keep him distracted.

Licking her lips, she fought the lump in her throat. “Joe-Joe, give me the gun and I promise you, I’ll help. I know people who can help you. I swear, and I’ll pay for Sauerkraut, too. We’ll get her out. Please give me the gun. Please,” she begged, holding out her hand, imploring him with her eyes.

As his wet layers of rumpled clothes clung to him, and the torn heel on his shoe squished against the floor, he rocked back and forth from foot to foot and shook his head with a violent jerk.

“I can’t! I caaan’t!” he spat with a stomp of his foot. “If I do, they’ll put me back in the bad place. You’ll call the police and they’ll put me in the bad place. I’m not going back to the bad place! I’ll never get Sauerkraut back if I go to the bad place! She needs me!”

The bad place? Where was the bad place?

Inching even closer, uncertain whether