Supermarket(18)

“Dude, she doesn’t even know who you are,” I snapped back a bit defensively.

“Man, all these hos know who I am,” Frank said, opening a locker and taking out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “You know, in my locker there’s a little cubby under the metal at the base. If you push down on the right side it pops open. It’s where I keep the shit I steal . . . and my gun.”

Frank shut the locker.

“You don’t have a gun in there!” I spewed. “Whaatt?!”

“It’s for when the time comes.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m foreshadowing, man,” he said with a smirk.

“Foreshadowing what?”

“The day some disgruntled schizophrenic nutjob employee shows up and stalks the aisles with an AR-15 semiautomatic rifle. Pumping rounds into customers and employees. Or even himself.” Frank put a cigarette in his mouth. “I’m gonna be prepared for that fucker. He’s never gonna know what hit him. I’m gonna be a thousand moves ahead of him. Like a game of chess.”

“You don’t really have a gun in there, do you?” I asked, though, deep down, this was the shit I loved about Frank. You kinda didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t.

“Ever seen the roof?” he said, ignoring me as he walked past.

“No, I haven—”

“Cool, let’s go.”

As we walked through the store, he continued talking. “You didn’t see me because you didn’t want to. Just admit it to yourself, man. This really isn’t healthy by now, you must realize that.”

“Wait, what? What are you talking about?” I replied.

“Mia, man. We were talking about your obsession with her, and how it essentially makes me invisible, dude.”

“What do you mean?” I stared at Frank, puzzled.

“Bros before hos, man. But if you wanna get technical—the brain is a very complicated organ, man. If you don’t control it, it will control you. You see what you wanna see. And as the saying goes . . . you only had eyes for her, I suppose, lover boy. Every time I tried to get at you, I couldn’t because you were so focused on this chick, man. Keep your eyes on the prize, bro.”

In some weird way, it’s almost as if Frank was speaking directly to the creative inside me—in a way, he was right. I was so infatuated with this girl that I had completely forgotten why I was there in the first place: to finish my novel! I was smitten and it had been a major distraction from my book. But Frank couldn’t possibly know that.

“Eyes on what prize?” I asked.

“All this fuckin’ pussy just laying at your feet, man! You can’t get all hot and bothered over one chick!”

I paused for a moment near the exit.

“Look, man,” I said. “I’m not here for ‘all this fuckin’ pussy,’ and I genuinely like Mia. Chill on how you talk about your coworkers. These women are just trying to make a buck in the summer. Just because you feel the need to try and fuck everything that walks, don’t drag me into your gutter. I like Mia, so what?”

“She’s old news, man.”

“Old news? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“Bro,” said Frank, who was now to the right of me. He stopped and put his left hand on my shoulder, like a blind man walking next to a person with sight. “I’m just saying this place is like a revolving door; there are new girls in and out of here every day. So if you want to focus on li’l ol’ Mia, be my guest, brother . . . but you’re missing out.”

We walked out the back door and onto the loading dock near the trash and recycling. Frank jumped on top of the giant brown Dumpster, reaching for a latch on a ladder that extended to the roof. He released the latch, and the bottom half of the ladder rushed down, stopping about a foot from the ground.

“Hustle up, lover boy,” Frank said as he began to climb while holding the cigarette between his lips. I gripped the skinny, rusting bar of the ladder. As I began my ascension, I was quickly winded and realized that, for a skinny guy, I was out of shape.

It was peaceful on the roof of the store. Frank pulled out a joint and tried to light it. But the heavy wind blew out the spark. “Ever try to light a joint with a Zippo? It’s the fuckin’ worst,” he said, though he eventually lit it and gestured for me to indulge with him. I politely declined with a slight wave. “Who are you, Ted Daniels? Hit the goddamn joint!” he said.

“Nah, man, that shit makes me paranoid,” I told him.

“Suit yourself,” Frank said, raising his eyebrows as if to say more for me.

“I’m more of a drinker if anything,” I told him. “And honestly, I try my best to stay away from that, seeing as my dad was an alcoholic. Or at least that’s what my mom tells me. She said it brought out his schizophrenic tendencies.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. So it’s in my blood, you know?”

Not seeming to care, Frank just stood there looking forward. Our view from the top of Muldoon’s faced the back end of the store. It was trees as far as you could see. The sun was starting to set.

“I’m gonna be remembered forever,” Frank said. “Immortalized, I can feel it. This is just the start. People will know my name. Maybe it’ll be in infamy, but my name will be known.”