The Shopkeeper Girl [John Shelby x Reader]

Chapter One

The last place Margot Dulaney wanted to be was England. Cold, rainy, and gray, with disgusting dusty air. Birmingham was despicable. She was sent from one booming, bustling metropolitan to another. At least in Boston, there was time to enjoy the coast more than two days a year. But as the only 'available' grandchild, Margot was offered to assist her ailing grandparents at their small shop in Small Heath. It sold everything from the normal to the peculiar, like cigars from Cuba and canned meats from Germany. It was popular among nearby residents, though a bit pricier than the normal mom and pop. Tucked away in an alley off the main square, there was some strange appeal to it.

Margot dusted around the shelves and counter, making sure to reorganize the prices, stock, and tags. It was about the fifth time she did it, always wanting to seem busy when her cousin Dominick came through. He was a nice boy, but an odd one. Short, friendly, but unintelligent and he always talked with a rather long, exaggerated drawl. Margot knew poor ol' Dom couldn't help it, but she could not bear another drawn out story on his wonders. Often, he sat on the wooden stool in the front, and rocked back and forth. Most of the day she'd hear squeak, creak, squeak, creak.

He took the toothpick from his mouth, and looked at her with dopey shaped eyes. "Mars, are you alright? You cleaned that shelf about three times and it's just about 10."

"Customers are messy," she noted.

"Are you bored?"

"Dominick," she sighed, glancing over to her cousin. "Hasn't granda told you it's not nice to wear caps inside?" She walked over and took it off, leaving his hair a mess. "Now, shoo, go in the back and get those jars. Drop 'em off downtown and make sure you get the ticket this time! You always forget the ticket and then we can never redeem the shillings."

He slid off the stool, and nodded. "Yes, Mars, I'll do that. I'll do that right now-"

"And check the mail! Ma' is supposed to send me a note," she added as the wiry looking boy juggled the boxes of jars. He repeated his song and dance of yes, Mars, and skipped out, the ring of the doorbell following. When he was out of sight, she sat for a break when a woman came in. Kindly, she said, "hello." The lady looked over her shoulder, and narrowed her eyes as she grabbed cans from the shelves, and shoved them into her cloth sack.

"You," she said, walking to the counter, "you are not familiar. Accent for sure isn't-where is Dominick?" She spared her a second glance as she spilled the contents of her bag on the counter. "And a carton of cigarettes, please."

"Yes, ma'am," she nodded, grabbing a carton from under the counter.

"Ma'am?" she questioned. "You're American. New York?"

"No, Ma'am," Margot replied, "Boston. Just three-"

"I know where Boston is. Where is Dominick?" She pressed.

"Out." Margot left it at that, not caring to be particularly friendly to the overly pushy lady. "That'll be two shillings, Ma'am. Would you like a paper bag, too?" The woman looked taken aback, but shook her head and handed the girl the two shillings. "Have a good day, Ma'am."

"Oh, Hi, Ms. Gray," Dominick said, as he rushed in and took off his cap, nodding to her. The woman's exterior eased as she smiled at the boy. They exchanged a small bout of pleasantries before she left with her bag hanging from her shoulder. Dominick rushed around the counter and handed Margot the ticket and a small envelope. When he opened the draw, he noticed two added shillings.

"What's got you, Dominick?" she asked, skimming the ticket.

"Did you charge Ms. Gray?" he asked, frowning. "No body in Small Heath charges Ms. Gray!"

Margot snorted, and looked over at the boy who was clearly losing his mind. "And what is she? Did England get a new Queen I was unaware of?" But to Dominick, it was no joke. He slowly slid to the ground, running his hands over his face. Margot could tell he was rather shaken by this. "What? Dominick, people pay when they buy stuff. Now, why don't you go on back and breakdown the boxes-"

"Mars! Margot! You don't understand," he interjected, "you charged a Shelby. The Shelbys never pay in Small Heath. They don't pay in Birmingham. I have to go find Ms. Gray and give that money back to her." He jumped up and put on his flat cap, but Margot was having none of it. She sighed, pushing the boy towards the back room.

"It's fine," she said. "When she comes back in, I will simply handle it. Now, the boxes. They need to be broken down and tossed outside. Go on, now." Dominick, in a daze, shaken, did so and closed the door like he typically did when stressed. Margot went back to work when the door dinged. "Good afternoon," she greeted, bent over on the floor. She was trying to sweep up Dominick's sweet wrappers from under the counter. The person said nothing, but simply loomed over her. She felt the presence stick and looked over her shoulder. A tallish, slender pale man with blondish hair and a baby face looked down at her. Kindly, he nodded and removed his flat cap. "Hello?"

He grinned, and crouched down. "Somebody not from here, huh?"

"Sorry?"

"You're not from here," he said, a bit slower. "Are you?"

"Sounds like it, don't it?" she snipped and went back to cleaning under the counter, mumbling about how Dominick's teeth were gonna rot from his gums. There were dozens, if not hundreds of caramel, chocolate, and butterscotch wrappers. The boy had some fancy taste, that was for sure. When the man from behind her didn't budge, she sat up, and said, "look, you can buy something or leave. There is no need to stare. Surely, I'm not that fascinating-"

"From Boston," he humored, opening his metal case of cigarettes. Sticking one between his lips, he continued, "you got papers? Naughty, naughty. Americans can't work here without papers."

"And how do you know I don't have papers?"

"I want my two shillings," he said, dropping the smile from his face. "And I want another carton of Cigarettes. Go on-"

"And you are?"

"About to be a pretty nasty memory if you don't get on it," he said, a hint of threat. She slowly stood and backed up, walking to the other side of the counter. "Good girl, now, two shillings and a carton. Just in case you forgot by the time you made it to the money box."

Margot had a tongue, but she knew when to use and when not to. This was one of the moments where it was not worth it. She could always replace the two shillings with her own money. "Here," she sighed, handing him the two coins and a small carton of cigarettes.

He tsked, "no, sweetheart, the bigger carton. You're paying for repercussions here. Now, don't be cheap. I don't want the 10 pack. Give the carton of 120 behind you." Without saying anything, she reached behind her for the carton and gave it to him. "That's a good girl, ain't it?" Out of habit, he studied the carton and nodded, humming. "Very nice. Now you have a good day, Miss." He put on his flat cap and gave her a wink before strutting out. Margot stood there, feeling her bones shiver, never mind her skin. Dominick had been watching from the crack of the door.

"Whoa," he said, "that was John Shelby...I told you, Mars. They were gonna come."

"Yes," she whispered, eyes still staring at the door, nervous for another suited man to wander in. "Yes you did, Dominick."

"Did you see his gun, Mars?" he asked in a whisper. "Did he have his gun?" She shook her head and quickly ran to the door, locking it, mumbling how they were closing early.