Mall American Girl Read online

  MALL AMERICAN GIRL

  AN AT THE MALL HOLIDAY STANDALONE NOVELLA

  SARAH ROBINSON

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Subscribe to Sarah’s Newsletter!

  Excerpt from Mall I Want for Christmas is You

  Chapter 1

  Excerpt from Mall You Need is Love

  Chapter 1

  Excerpt from Mall Out of Luck

  Chapter 1

  Excerpt from Misadventures in the Cage

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Sarah Robinson

  CHAPTER ONE

  KAMAR

  “A hot dog eating contest?” Kamar Jaziri frowned as he tried to absorb everything his boss was telling him.

  Harold, an older man with thick glasses, shrugged as if he hadn’t just tried to strong-arm Kamar into an event he wanted nothing to do with. “Not just hot dogs. There’s also the potato sack race and the dunk tank.”

  Harold was the operations manager at Yule Heights Shopping Mall, and he’d hired Kamar for the summer to play for the evening crowds on Thursday and Friday nights. While the gig wasn’t particularly well paid, it was over a holiday weekend, and the July Fourth crowd tended to tip nicely. Also thankfully, the pavilion where he’d be performing from was set right outside the entrance to The Lucky Leprechaun, the mall’s only bar, so Kamar was hoping some drunk patrons might find their way out and be even more generous with their tips.

  But nowhere in his job description had it said anything about potatoes and hot dogs.

  He blinked slowly. “And I have to do this why?”

  “Hey, the majority of this job is the tips.” Harold pointed toward the small stage set up in the center pavilion of the Yule Heights Shopping Mall. “We pay jack shit to our musicians—not my fault, I always try to advocate for more, but the higher-ups run the show. You’re going to have to hustle if you want to rake in actual money here, and that means being part of the Yule Heights Independence Games and bumping elbows with vendors who can funnel people your way. How many hot dogs can you eat in a minute?”

  Kamar wanted to laugh, but he wasn’t sure if his new boss had the same sense of humor he did. Was he seriously asking him that question? Or was everyone in this town really into these Independence Games like he said? Being from out of state until recently moving here for college, these weren’t exactly the type of festivities he was used to, growing up in New York City. Heck, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d even seen a real New Yorker eat a hot dog—that was reserved for tourists and people with iron stomachs.

  “Uh, I’m not sure. So, I just need to eat some hot dogs, run a race, and that’s it?” he asked.

  Harold nodded, but then his eyes lit up. “And you have to shoot the deer!”

  “Absolutely not.” The words came out of Kamar’s mouth before he had a chance to try to censor himself. He cringed at the thought of hurting an animal. He was a gentle soul—as his music taste and style made very clear—and murdering Bambi just wasn’t on his summer reading list. “Are you telling me that there is hunting involved in this, too?”

  Harold laughed—a loud guffaw that tipped his entire head back and made his belly shake. “I hear you loud and clear there, son, but no. That game just involves shooting the fake deer with a soft water pistol to keep them away from your flowers. No real deer involved. You know, my brother was a musician back in the day—rest his soul. Wouldn’t hurt a fly, but man would he go to town beating the hell out of some drums.”

  Kamar grinned at that, though his instrument of choice was acoustic guitar most of the time. He could also play bass and some keyboard, but when he was on stage singing ballads, the acoustic guitar felt the most authentic to him and the message he wanted to portray to the crowd. “Sounds like my kind of guy.”

  “Your folks live around here?” Harold asked.

  Kamar shook his head. “My father’s home in New York. He’s probably asleep by now—usually snoring by seven on the dot.”

  “Good man.” Harold tipped his chin, nodding his approval. He glanced at his watch, pushing his glasses back up his nose as they slid down. “My Ruth and I are usually the same way. Hence the reason I’m going to head out now so I can get home to her. Let me know if you need anything, but everything should be there.”

  He pointed one last time toward the pavilion then turned and headed down the main corridor of the mall toward the manager’s office at the other end. Kamar looked around him, taking in the different stores facing his small stage—an eyeglasses store called Eye Carumba, Kwik Ink Printing, Summer’s Sun Tanning Salon, and the Twisted Bread Pretzel Shop were the closest to him. Somewhere nearby must be a candle store as well, because the scent of flowers and wax was strong in the air.

  Certainly not his ideal stage for playing music, but he’d played in worse. And a Master’s Degree in music education was not cheap. With the fall semester’s tuition already looming heavily on his bank account, he was more than willing to make ends meet however he could.

  Kamar got to work on setting up his equipment. There wasn’t too much to do except place his combo amplifier next to his microphone stand. He started first with pinning the small banner he’d had printed years ago that he used at all his shows, despite the fact that the ink was beginning to fade. He’d had to pay a premium for each color he wanted to use, so he’d scrapped his original idea entirely. It was now just a simple black banner with white letters reading MUSIC LIKE THE MOON and then his contact information below, including a way to tip him directly via Venmo or CashApp.

  He tended toward softer ballads and soul-filled songs that he’d written himself, and when he’d combined that with the original meaning of his name in Arabic, it had just seemed right to brand his music under that name. When his mother Djamila had still been living, she’d regularly complimented his crooning voice and told him that she’d named him after the moon because he was destined to be among the stars.

  These days, though, he was beginning to feel less and less like stardom was in his journey.

  When the stage was finally aesthetically to his liking, Kamar began plugging in the amp and microphone stand into the outlet on the floor covered by a small, removable grate. He clicked on the amp as soon it was plugged in, but nothing happened. Kamar frowned, then tapped the microphone. Still nothing. Returning to the outlet, he took everything out of the plugs and then put them back in.

  Zero power.

  Kamar felt his stomach tighten as anxiety swelled in his gut. Thankfully, he had Harold’s phone number in his cell so he called him to figure out a solution. But the phone just kept ringing until it went to a message that stated Harold’s voicemail was full. Then the line went dead.

  “Hey, any chance you know how to get this outlet turned on?” Kamar asked a man walking past the stage who was in maintenance coveralls pushing a mop bucket.

  The man removed the headphones in his ears long enough to hear the question, but then put them back in, shrugged his shoulders, and continued walking on.

  Kamar surveyed what was around him, but his options were either wait for Harold to answer the phone and miss out on any potential tips in the meantime—or find someone to lend him power.

  The bar was not an option since he was worried about drunk patrons tripping over extension cords and suing the pants off him. The pretzel stand next door was completely dark and had a metal gate pulled closed in front of it. The third option was Summer’s Sun, a tanning salon that was brighter than any other storefront in the mall.

  Bingo!

  Unwilling to leave his guitar case unattended, Kamar took it with him as he walked over to the tanning salon. The moment he stepped onto the black-and-white checkered tile floor of the salon, a woman sitting behind the receptionist counter looked up at him with interest.

  “Hi, are you the owner?” Kamar placed his hand out between them to introduce himself.

  She stood from the chair she’d been sitting in and placed the magazine in her hands on the counter before reaching forward and accepting his hand. “I am. Summer Darby. Are you looking for a tanning service? We also sell packages, if you’re considering purchasing for a friend or girlfriend.”

  He smiled, appreciating that she was going right into sales mode. Clearly, she was a hustler like he was if she owned her own place like this. “Actually, I was wondering if I could ask a favor. One mall vendor to another.”

  Summer lifted a brow as she waited for him to continue.

  “I’m playing out on the pavilion there and need power for my amp. The outlet isn’t working, but I have a long extension cord and was hoping to hook it up to your outlet here.” He pointed at the outlet by the front door that currently had only one of the two sockets taken. “It’ll just be for a few hours and that’s it.”

  She frowned. “I don’t know…I pay the electric bill here and it isn’t cheap. How many watts is the amp?”

  “Ten,” he replied. “But I don’t want to put you out. What if I hang up a sign by my stand telling people to come in here? You could consider it a marketing expense.”

  Summer seemed a bit more appeased at that idea. “I guess that could make sense if it actually does bring people in.”

  She didn’t seem fully convinced yet.

  “Has it been busy today?” he asked, placing his guitar case o
n the floor by his feet and leaning against the counter. “I’ve never actually been in a tanning booth before.”

  “Spray tan,” she corrected and then shook her head. “Well, it’s not for everyone. Myself included, of course. I’m as pale as a sheet of paper.”

  Summer gestured toward her own skin, but Kamar found his gaze traveling down her entire frame slowly. She wasn’t the smallest woman, and yet every curve was in the right place. Her clothes were snug, but in a purposeful way, and her shirt cut down just low enough in the front to make him pause there for a second.

  “You don’t use your own product?” Kamar asked, his gaze returning to her eyes as he felt his cheeks heat, upon realizing he’d just blatantly checked her out. Hopefully she hadn’t noticed. That wasn’t even his usual behavior since he certainly wasn’t interested in romances right now as he was trying to get through graduate school. Something about the way this woman held herself, though…it was intriguing. “Why do you run a tanning salon then?”

  “Even if I don’t use it often, I’m pretty passionate about giving women an easy and affordable alternative to tanning that is safe for their skin and their health,” Summer replied, sitting back down in the chair behind her. “Not enough people take skin cancer and sun safety seriously.”

  Her last few words sounded strained, and he wanted to ask her more, but it didn’t feel like it was his place. Plus, he really did need the power turned on so he could get started earning tips.

  “Oh,” he replied simply, unsure what else to say. “I hear it’ll be pretty sunny this weekend at the Yule Heights Independence Games.”

  Out of everything in the world, how was that the only thing he could think to say?

  But her chin lifted, and her brows were raised when she took in his face. “You’re competing in that?”

  “Didn’t seem to have much of a choice not to,” he said with a dry laugh. “Harold seemed pretty insistent.”

  Her face softened and she smiled. “Harold’s a good guy. Old school, but a romantic.” She looked at him carefully for another moment, studying his face as if she was looking for something. What that was, he wasn’t sure.

  Finally, she gestured toward the outlet he’d seen earlier. “The plug is over there. You just need to make sure to tape down the wire so people don’t trip over it.”

  He pushed up to a standing position. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”

  “Good luck,” she called out to him while he began setting up the extension cord. “I mean, tomorrow at the games.”

  Kamar grinned. “Are you in it, too?”

  “How can I not?” Her smile flattened more into a smug grin, and she wiggled her brows. “After all, I’m the undefeated champion for the last four years running. Wouldn’t want anything to change that now.”

  He stopped in his tracks, turning back to look at her. “You’re the undefeated champion…in the hot dog eating contest?”

  “If your mind is going somewhere dirty, then you can take a hike,” she replied, pointing out into the mall.

  Kamar shook his head—that thought hadn’t crossed his mind. Well, not until right this moment. Jesus, now that mental image was front and center. “No, no, I mean…how many hot dogs did you eat to win last year?”

  “It’s a sixty second timer, and last year I won with twelve hot dogs.” The way she said it so casually was like this was an everyday occurrence. “The year before that, I did eleven.”

  “In sixty seconds?” he asked again, an incredulous tone seeping into his voice. His gaze swept over her frame again—where the heck was she putting those hot dogs? “There’s zero chance that’s real. Six-zero seconds? Like one single minute?”

  “I’ll have you know that the world record for ten minutes is seventy-six hot dogs, so it’s absolutely possible.” Her hands were on her hips now, her chin tilted up just enough so that she could look down her nose at him. “Tomorrow, my goal is thirteen.”

  He grinned at her. “Well, well, well…never thought I’d say this, but you’re going to have some competition this year. I’m going to eat you out.”

  “What?” Her eyes widened.

  “I mean in hot dogs. Like, I’m going to out-eat you. I’m going to eat more hot dogs than you. In the contest.” He was stumbling over his words now. Why the hell had he suddenly lost any semblance of chill around this woman? “Like as a competitor, in uh, in business. Uh, um, well, I’m going to go start my set. See you tomorrow!”

  With that, he turned on his heel and practically ran out of the tanning salon and straight for the pavilion. Flirting, dating…any sort of romantic whim was off the table right now, and he couldn’t believe he’d said something so potentially suggestive. That was not like him—his style was romance, not crudeness. Plus, he wasn’t in a place in his life where he’d even be able to give attention to a partner—he had to focus on school and earning money for his life post-graduate degree.

  That had to be enough for now.

  Focus, he reminded himself as he confirmed that the outlet was finally working and he had the power he needed.

  Kamar stepped onto the pavilion stage, the guitar against his chest, and breathed the first few words of his song into the microphone…

  Under the moonlit palm tree, there was a boy who dreamt of the sun…

  CHAPTER TWO

  SUMMER

  Have you seen my favorite green camisole? The one with the tequila bottle on it?

  Winter’s name flashed on the screen of Summer’s cell phone. And no, the irony was not lost on Summer that her ex-girlfriend’s name was Winter.

  She wanted to immediately delete the message, but she found herself opening it instead. Damn her curiosity and competitive spirit. It would have had to get the better of her eventually. She hadn’t responded to the last message from the week prior either where Winter had asked what her vacation plans were this summer. Or the one before that that had come in at two o’clock in the morning with only the words, I miss you.

  Breakups were never easy, but Summer had had a particularly difficult time deciding to end things with her ex almost two months ago. She and Winter had been together for several years since they had first met at the same college, but their lives couldn’t be in more different places now. Winter still lived with her ex-boyfriend—long story for another time—and mostly lived off the royalties from a viral video she’d accidentally done five years ago that was used by a lot of media sites as an ongoing meme and trying to capitalize on those fifteen minutes of fame on her TikTok page. It wasn’t a bad life—nor was it particularly wealthy—but it suited Winter just fine. She didn’t have much interest or drive in doing more with her life, and that was where things started to strain between them.

  Summer couldn’t have been more opposite. She had spent every dime she had earned to open up her own business—something she’d been saving for since the age of sixteen when she’d been babysitting neighborhood kids on evenings and weekends for ten dollars an hour. It had all gone to bills and savings, and that meant she’d had a pretty boring college experience compared to some, but it also meant that she was now twenty-five years old and a business owner.

  The salon was successful, she might add, too.

  Things in the tanning industry never slowed down, and now that it was summer, it was going to be an especially booming season for her. For some reason, people always wanted to prepare for vacation by getting tan instead of getting tan while they were already on vacation.

  It seemed like a backwards concept, but she was glad for the business either way.

  Even more so because she felt like it was her life’s mission to give safe, affordable spray tan options to those who otherwise might have lain out on the beach unprotected or sat under the lights in a tanning bed for an hour. Maybe she was being overcautious, but watching her mother fight melanoma for over two years before losing her battle to skin cancer made Summer more adamant than ever to do what she could to stop it.