Chapter 1: The Ad

APOTHECARY SHOP

POV MARCELINE

"Have a good night!" I said as the last customer of the evening left our shop. Looking out the window I could see the sun was just about to set. I turned the little TV by my desk to a random channel and started to clean the shop.

Although there really wasn't much to do. Our customers have been dwindling for almost a year now. We had our regulars, but new ones were far and few between these days. My parents had already gone home for the day since only one person was needed to run the shop during the day now.

Staring blankly at the TV newscaster, I began to wipe down all the tables. The news was also always the same, disaster here, scandal there, and maybe a sprinkle of some good folks in and around London. Suddenly, the newscaster disappeared off the screen. An announcement rang loudly out of the TV, making me almost knock over several glass jars filled with herbs.

An older woman's voice rang out through the speakers, "the only heir to the Downing fortune is single and ready for love!" Rolling my eyes, I set the glass jars back into their proper places. The Downing Corporation was the leading company for technology in London.

Downing Corp ran most of the cloud based software for Europe. I also heard they were working on AI technology for the new year.

It seemed like they had been using almost their entire fortune on their ads for their son. They played at all hours of the day and on most available channels. It all was quite ridiculous if you thought about it for more than two seconds.

The leading technology corporation's son, Grey Downing, was only 28 years old and, apparently, couldn't find a girlfriend. So, his parents, desperate to continue their legacy, are now publicly advertising their son as if he were one of their products.

It was currently the hottest gossip in town and had been for the past few months. Grey was certainly a handsome man. He was tall, broad shouldered, with dazzling cerulean blue eyes and wore his raven black hair cropped short. Honestly, it amazed me that he had lasted this long without a girlfriend.

Turning my back to the TV, I bent down to sweep up the last of the dried plants that had fallen to the floor. I heard the doorbell ring and the door suddenly slam shut. Leaving my sweeping on the floor, I turned back to face the front of the store.

"Sorry we're closed," I said but gasped when I saw who was struggling for breath at the door. Grey Downing himself was huffing and puffing and looking at me with wild eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I need you to hide me," he gasped out between breaths.

"You…what? Why?" I asked, concerned with the amount of sweat that was forcing his white button up shirt to cling to his chest.

"I don't have time to explain," he continued, looking around the shop. "Where can I hide?"

I pointed a finger behind the front desk and Grey ducked and shot behind the desk. Quickly walking to the door, I looked outside. I could see a few blocks away several women running toward the shop. I cracked open the door and heard a few of them shouting out directions.

"Lock the door," I heard Grey hiss from behind the counter. Without a second thought I shut the door, locked it, and turned our sign to close. The women stopped short in front of the door and spread out to look through the glass windows.

"Did Mr. Downing come in there?" I heard one of the women shout. I cocked my head in confusion and shook my head.

"Well did you see him come by here?" the same crazed woman shouted. I shrugged and pointed my finger further down the street. They rallied together and continued running down the street.

I waited until they were out of sight before looking over the front desk. Grey had his eyes shut and head leaned back against the wood wall. His usual perfect hair hung in sweaty strands over his forehead, but his breathing had evened out thankfully.

"They're gone," I said. Grey opened his eyes and looked up at me from where I was leaning over the desk. His eyes had calmed down and they looked strikingly vulnerable for a second. That was until he started talking again.

"Those desperate women just never quit," he complained, staying on the floor. "Honestly, am I anything more than a piece of meat to them?"

I snorted a laugh, "I'm not sure what else you expect when your parents broadcast you as such." Grey returned my remark with an impressive scowl. "If you keep frowning like that, you'll get wrinkles," I said, giving him a wink before going back to my sweeping.

"Do you always give unsolicited advice?" I heard Grey ask. I finished my sweeping and dumped the dried plants and dust into the bin. Looking over at the front desk, I could see that Grey was now standing and leaning over the front desk. He was dressed much too nicely to look like a worker in our small shop.

Looking around the shop, I responded, "well this is an apothecary shop. Most people who walk in here are looking for something to help them feel better." I watched as Grey finally took in his surroundings. We were one of the only remaining apothecary shops in the main London area.

"Why would people come here when they could just go to a hospital?" he asked while examining some salves by the front register.

Restraining my own snarky remark, I walked over and took the salve out of his hands and put it back on the table. "Because some people like the healing effects of natural herbs rather than artificial ones," I said.

"Do you have anything to stop this constant waking nightmare that is now my life?" Grey asked, leaning on the counter. Shooing him away from the counter, Grey stepped past me and walked around to the other side. I opened the register and started counting the money inside.

"I feel that you already know the solution to your problem Mr. Downing," I replied, not looking up at him. I blew a long brown curl out of my face and turned to look at Grey when I heard his fingers drumming on the counter.

"It's not that simple," he said when he saw me staring at him.

"Do you not like women?" I asked, continuing my counting. His fingers halted their steady beat.

"What would make you ask such a question?" he asked, sounding astonished.

I shrugged, "to me, that would seem like the only obstacle with your parents wanting a girlfriend."

I watched as Grey swept a hand through his hair, making it almost perfect. He sighed like he was expatriated just having this conversation with me, "they don't want me to just have a girlfriend. They want me to pick a wife. And no, I am not gay."

Dropping the last of the money back into the register I wrote the number down in the logbook before responding. "So, then what's the hold up? I'm sure you could have your pick of any woman in London, or Europe for that matter," I said.

"I told you, it's not that simple,” he huffed.

Leaning over the front desk, I rested my elbows on the soft wooden surface and folded my hands to rest my chin. I looked up at him with my sweetest smile and said, "then please, enlighten me on the woes of the last bachelor in London."