Barry Howell
Barry adjusted and then readjusted his new line of Ravish me Red, Blood Scented Lipgloss ‘a must have for any vampire looking for love’ on the freshly stocked shelves until the tubes were pleasantly symmetrical. Satisfied, he glanced around his rather avant-garde and, quite frankly, empty boutique. Business was surprisingly slow for a Friday, the bell at the storefront had rung only once today, and that costumer had long since gone. Slow days weren’t all that bad, however. Barry smirked to himself as he strode towards the glass door. Who was going to miss him if he popped next door for a tick?
Barry’s smirk only widened as he entered the 50’s styled bakery, a cheerful tune floating from the radio in the back. “Good afternoon Sasha’s Sweets!” Barry’s rich baritone reverberated in the near-empty bakery; the few seated customers hardly spared him a second glance. He idly wondered where the rest of the town was as he wandered behind the counter.
“And what do you think you’re doing?” An amused voice drifted from the kitchen doorway.
“I’ve come to sabotage my rival’s business,” Barry barely managed to stifle the grin that threatened to split his face.
“Rival? We cater to two completely different demographics,” Sasha was far less skilled at hiding her amusement.
“Your delicious treats are stealing all my customers!” Barry threw his hands up in mock exasperation, “‘I need some more transformation-proof mascara, but, oh! Look at that gorgeous mint green macaroon!’ Like moth to a flame, I tell ya.” Sasha giggled, wrapping her translucent arms around his neck and pulled him down for a chaste kiss.
“Dork.”
“Loser.”
Barry’s grin remained as he followed his girlfriend back into the backroom. Inside the relatively small kitchen, Barry spotted the young Aubrey slaving over what would no doubt be a mouthwateringly good cake. “And how’s my favorite Girlfriend’s Employee today?”
The tell-tale ping of the customer service bell rang and Sasha tilted her head towards the kitchen door. “Aubrey, would you be a dear? I have a new recipe I’d like Barry to try out.” The playful smirk she offered him curled around the word ‘recipe’, and he most certainly knew what that was code for. Barry let himself be tugged further into the kitchen; mid-afternoon makeouts were a far cry better than manning an empty boutique.