Free A Little Slice of Heaven by Gina Ardito

don’t mind,” Kyle said, “I’ll drive.”
    She dropped the keys in his outstretched palm. A typical male attitude. Why did all men have an aversion to sitting in the passenger seat while a woman drove? Especially in her car? Maybe the need to drive had something to do with regaining control.
    He started the engine with a quick turn of the key, and then fiddled with her radio stations, scanning through bits of noise and talk with rapid-fire flicks of his wrist. Through his machinations, she said nothing. Even when he finally settled on some kind of monotonous chamber music to fill the silence.
    No doubt, sitting in the driver’s seat and making simple decisions restored some masculine pride. And Kyle’s pride had taken an awful beating lately. First he’d lost all his money. Then he wound up homeless until he gained employment as a busboy. His humiliation only culminated with the nickname Bethany had bestowed upon him. Jeeves .
    Gianna wouldn’t admit the thought aloud, knowing the idea would anger him, but she liked the name. Somehow, Jeeves fit the man who walked with long-legged strides, shoulders thrown back, and head held high. As if he’d been born a prince and only played the role of pauper as a temporary measure.
    Yes, she liked the name a lot. Almost as much as she liked the man, she thought as she gently rubbed a circle around her wrist where he’d clutched her a moment ago.
    ****
    Brookland Mall sprawled over an acre of prime real estate at the intersection of two major highways. If the location didn’t impress Kyle, the sheer genius of the interior awed his business acumen. Dozens of stores surrounded him, each selling shoddily made, overpriced versions of high-quality merchandise. Ghastly track lighting beamed down on the wares, lending them an artificial glisten meant to last only long enough to purchase and package the items.
    With Halloween just around the corner, holiday-related paraphernalia—costumes, smoking cauldrons, mummies in coffins, eerie music, orange and black streamers—decorated windows and festooned entrances. A few stores even had costumed employees. As he peeked through the windows of one establishment, he spotted King Kong ringing up a lady’s purchase while a vampire folded sweaters on a counter.
    And the crowds! Every size, shape, age, and background wandered through the atrium, expressions wearing the same vacant stare. He remembered his cousin, Lucinda, once referred to these shoppers as “mall zombies.” Now, he knew what she meant.
    Their first stop this morning, Ha-Cha-Cha Cards and Gifts , sat next to a fast food restaurant. Even at nine a.m., the smell of old grease permeated the air. A kiosk selling mass-produced hot cinnamon buns twenty yards away enhanced the oily aroma with cloying sweetness. The mingled fumes made Kyle’s stomach dip. To keep his breakfast from rising into his throat, he clutched his abdomen.
    On the other hand, Gianna appeared unaffected by the nauseating odor when she gestured with a quick head jerk. “Come on. We’ll make a photocopy here.” She led him to the rear of the store where a copy machine hummed.
    A sign overhead indicated the management charged ten cents per page and was not responsible for the copier’s quality.
    Gianna dropped a dime into the slot, and Kyle placed his paycheck face down on the glass before closing the lid. With a press of the green “Start” button, a flash of light moved from left to right, and then back again beneath the machine’s cover. Swoosh. The photocopy slid onto the shelf on the right side.
    He picked up the grainy facsimile and grinned. A balm of satisfaction soothed his frazzled nerve endings. Rory would squawk like a treed monkey when he opened this little beauty in Monday’s mail.
    “ Miss Randazzo!” The high-pitched voices provided the only warning before a swarm of youngsters encircled a startled Gianna.
    Kyle found himself on the outside of a midget mob.
    “ Hello, my cherubs!” Arms