A/N: Hello, everyone! I've made a playlist to go along with the story. It's current to chapter 11.
www dot shareplaylists dot com slash playlist slash adventures-in-coat-check dot html
OMFG I hate links so much.
Woo. Enjoy.
I stifled a yawn as my glasses slid down my nose for at least the fifth time. The exhibition's opening reception was in full swing. Snatches of Bach drifted down the the hallway, along with the occasional sound of tinkling glassware.
Only two hours left. Then sleep. Extra work means extra monies. Stick it out, I thought to myself. I had volunteered to work the coat check for this reception, but after an hour sitting alone, I was climbing the walls. The actual checking of coats had been a relatively quick process: about forty five minutes of rich museum donors relinquishing their furs and fancy trenches to my care in exchange for numbered plastic tags.
Now I was reduced to sneaking sips of my tea (a necessity in the arena of the late night coat check) and searching for any way to make the time pass faster. The opening reception was half finished, so I expected at least some people to start trickling out.
I'm just going to rest my head down here for a minute, I thought, taking off my glasses and closing my eyes. Just for a moment...
My eyes snapped open when I heard the door unlatch and the hinges rattle. I heard a quick, purposeful tread make its way down the carpet towards the coat check area. Then, a sound not unlike the chuffing of a tiger.
"The party's started without you; I hope you're aware," I stated bluntly, not looking up from the desk.
The purposeful gait stopped. I lifted my head from the desk, reset my glasses, and took in the late arrival. My gaze traveled up his tall form, and I stood to meet his eyes. That was a mistake. Looking into his eyes was like looking into a glacial crevasse: beautiful, seemingly infinite, and capable of making me disappear quickly.
He stared back at me coolly, returning my gaze with thinly veiled contempt.
"They can't have any fun without me; I'm the guest of honor," he said with a smirk.
"Oh. Do you have pieces in the exhibition?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me.
"No," he replied with a quirk of his eyebrow that didn't allow for explanations.
"Would you like to check your coat?" I asked, mustering all of my courtesy, along with a bit of my courage. Something about him frightened me, just enough to keep me from asking any more questions. I was in coat check mode now.
Annoyance chased the contempt from his expression. "I suppose I should adhere to some semblance of normalcy in this..." he trailed off, waving a hand to indicate a mysterious agenda. He shrugged out of his coat and passed it to me.
I grabbed the collar and was immediately struck by its weight. I almost lost my grip. Mr. Purposeful Gait smirked again, amused by my obvious surprise. I turned away, lugging the enormous black coat towards the rear of the coat check alcove. I lifted my arms above my head in order to prevent dragging the hem on the floor. I found an unoccupied hanger on the furthest coat rack and gave up my heavy burden to its sturdier care. Grabbing the plastic tag, I made my way back to the desk. Mr. Purposeful Gait was nowhere to be found.
"Sir?" I called out, "You forgot your number..." I held it out to the empty air like a communion wafer. He didn't reappear.
"I am not going to be responsible if someone else takes your coat," I muttered. That strange diversion didn't last very long. What else to do? I sipped my tea, which had grown much colder in the past five minutes. Weird.
I let my thoughts drift to the mysterious Mr. Purposeful Gait. Why was his coat so heavy? Was it made of lead? Was the hem weighted? How could he wear it without developing serious back problems? Maybe he was freakishly strong. He hadn't looked like all that beefy. Maybe he swam. Or ran. Or was crazy good at yoga.
I'd barely glanced at him once he'd removed the coat; its soft form had obscured the finer lines of his body. Didn't cover up his face, though. Or his eyes. I shivered, remembering their glacial intensity. I bet he wins a lot of staring contests. The force of his gaze had fit perfectly in his features, which seemed prideful. Or royal. What? Where did that come from? He couldn't be royalty. There weren't enough guards or paparazzi. Also, royals, as of late, seem to more closely resemble members of the Hapsburg Dynasty, which was rather unfortunate.
Mr. Purposeful Gait's skin was a pale ivory that reminded me of my own sun-fearing complexion. His mouth was a sharp dash, set at a jaunty angle when he smirked. The rest of his face had been all planes and angles, with a sharp nose and even sharper cheekbones. His complexion seemed more extreme when paired with his hair and brows, which were an inky shade. The coat matches his hair, I thought with a giggle, And now you've just spent the past ten minutes waxing poetic about an arrogant visitor with a creepy stare. Granted, he's quite attractive. But come on, Nell, he seemed a bit scary.
I still held his coat check tag in my hand. I opened the desk drawer and put it inside, where it clicked against spare pens and a date stamp. Sitting back in the chair, I grabbed my cup of tea, which was now almost icy. Oh well. At least it has caffeine. Don't think about oddly attractive men. Don't think about how it's been too long since someone has stared at you with that level of intensity. Don't think about it. Don't-
"Ahem."
I looked up hopefully. The voice did not belong to Mr. Purposeful Gait.
"I seem to have misplaced my check number," said an older woman with the voice of a Kennedy. "My coat is that black one. There." She pointed vaguely at the middle of the closest coat rack.
"Are you sure you've lost it? Perhaps it's in your bag," I suggested, gesturing to her small clutch.
"I am sure that I did not put it there," she replied, nonplussed.
"Humor me?" I asked with a quiet raise of an eyebrow and a sheepish grin. Huffing, she opened her bag. Her eyes widened.
"Oh, here it is! Who would have thought that you would be so smart?" she said, handing me the tag. I checked the number and found her coat, which was on the second rack, near the end, and not anywhere close to where she had pointed earlier. That was to be expected. Her coat was of a particularly common design: black, knee length, fiber-fill, with a hood trimmed in real fur.
"Here you are, ma'am. Have a good night," I said as I handed her the puffy coat.
I looked at my phone; it was just past nine. People started trickling out of the reception, exchanging numbered tokens for the corresponding outerwear. By 9:45, I was down to half a dozen coats. At five of ten, I had three left: a long, red, leather behemoth, lined and trimmed with sable fur; a Burberry trench coat in khaki; and, of course, Mr. Purposeful Gait's, lurking in the back like a scolded child.
Red Leather came by a minute later to pick up her coat, and Burberry Trench left at one minute before ten. Then there was no one. I poked my head past the alcove entrance. I heard no footsteps. The lights started clicking off. A security officer walked past the desk to secure the front doors. I was very confused.
"Is there anyone left in the galleries?" I asked, hoping that the mysterious Mr. Purposeful Gait hadn't slipped by and forgotten his distinctively heavy coat.
"Nope. We're clear," replied the guard.
Well, this is quite the quandary... It was getting on past ten. I was supposed to be off right at ten. I wanted to go home. And have a glass of wine. Then get some sleep. But before I could engage in those happy activities, Mr. Purposeful Gait needed to reclaim his freakishly heavy outerwear. Ugh. Just show up so I can leave...I heard no sounds, not even cricket chirps. Okay, I give up. I'm leaving.
I looked back at his coat. It looked so lonesome. The sleeves hung down so sadly, empty of their arms' embraces.
"Don't look at me like that," I said, half hoping it wasn't aloud. Too much time in coat check, and now you're talking to yourself. Back away from the cliff, Nell. "Maybe I can send you back to your owner. Sometimes folks put their addresses in the breast pocket."
I walked over to the coat and pulled the lapel open. I reached inside the inner breast pocket and came up empty. Maybe he's labeled his clothes. Like a ten year old. But there was no tag anywhere on the coat. So here's this nice coat, with no label, no name, and apparently, no owner. Great.
"Hey, Glen?" I called. He had just locked the doors, and there was a slim chance that he was still in the immediate vicinity. I heard no reply.
"Fine," I growled at the coat, "you can come home with me. But you can't fit in my bag...so I guess I'll have to wear you, blasted thing. This is not permanent. I am not a thief. I fully intend to return you to your owner, once I can find him."
I gathered my things and drained the last of my ice cold tea, all the while casting sidelong glances at the coat. I managed to stuff my own smaller (inferior) coat into the bottomless pit of my bag. Squaring my shoulders, I said, "Okay, coat. Time to go."
As I grabbed its shoulder to pull it from the hanger, I couldn't help but notice that the fabric was curiously warm. I love it when the coats are next to the heating vent. So toasty. I slipped my arms into the sleeves, expecting to swim in its yards of black wool, but to my surprise, it fit perfectly. The hem just brushed the tops of my ankles; it was nowhere near as long as the floor dragging monster I remembered from an hour and a half ago. I knitted my brow, "Well, this is unexpected. And weird."
I looked down at myself. Rather dashing. Mysterious. Definitely not from The Matrix. Stylish? Seek a second opinion before making the final call on that one. I swished out of coat check. If I wore this all the time, I'd have a proud look on my face, too. There's something to be said for statement pieces of clothing.
I flashed my employee badge at the security desk, "Goodnight, guys. Have a good weekend."
"Night. Nice coat," replied the security officer.
As I walked away from the building, I swore I felt a gentle squeeze of my right shoulder. I turned my head to see if someone had sneaked up on me, but there was no one. Get to the car. Go home. It's been a very strange night. On the path to the parking lot, I felt the breeze stiffen. Low pitched voices reached my ears:
"Where is it?"
"I'm not sure. It was there when I locked the doors. So was the coat check attendant. By the time I got back from my last circuit, they were both gone."
"It has to be found! Find the attendant! I'm certain she has it! Do you know her habits? I need that coat! It's infused with my magic!"
"Can't you just locate it that way?"
"Unfortunately, no. It's imbued with cloaking magic. Invisibility. She shouldn't have been able to see me in the first place."
I picked up my pace. They were talking about me! Take off the coat. Drop it on the path. They'll find it. My arms struggled to obey my mind, but to no avail. Time to run away. I felt pressure on my lower back, urging me forward towards my car.
"What's the attendant's name? The woman with the forest green eyes?"
"I don't know, sir. She's new."
False. I'd been working at the museum for a few months. I knew all the guards by sight, if not by name. This one was protecting me. I strained to hear more:
"You're lying."
"I'm not. I don't know her name!"
I gasped. It was Glen! We were in a book club together. He definitely knew me. He was definitely lying. This whole thing was becoming decidedly unsavory. Why are you protecting me, Glen? Why does this guy need to be all angry? Is this Mr. Purposeful Gait? It has to be him.
"There can not be that many redheads that work at this museum! Now. Tell me what you know!"
Shit. Getoutgetoutgetout.
I heard a thunk.
"That wasn't so hard, now was it?"
A tiger's chuffing reached my ears.
"I will find you, Miss Eleanor Keavy. And I will reclaim my cloak."
I shivered, more from fear than cold. The coat was still unnaturally warm. It pulled itself tighter around my shoulders. With shaking hands, I grabbed my car keys. I had just opened my car door when I heard footsteps approaching fast. Purposeful footsteps.
I got in the car and turned the key in the ignition, fastened my seat belt, and began my drive home with more haste than I usually utilized.
"Good Christ, Nell. Just whose coat did you take?"
As the words spilled from my mouth, some dark green embroidery caught my eye. Lit by passing headlights, I could make out some words around the cuffs of each sleeve.
I belong to Loki
read the left one, and the right said,
Consequences will befall all thieves
…
"Well, I'm totally boned."
