Supermarket(28)

After an amazing night, I walked her home. We held hands the entire way. It was a bit chilly out, so I gave her my bomber jacket to wear on the way. Once we arrived at the bottom of the stairs that led to her front door, I grabbed her other hand and pulled her close.

“Thanks for an amazing night, Mia.”

“Are you kidding me? Thank you, Flynn! I can’t remember the last time I had this much fun with a close friend.”

“Close friend?” I said, trying not to stutter. “Close . . . but—but I thought we—”

“I’m just fucking with you! Come here,” she said, then she leaned in and kissed me.

It was amazing, even better than our first kiss. Because this time I was completely present and in the moment. I wasn’t thinking about anything—not Frank and how he wanted me to set him up with Rachel, not walking in on Cara, not dumb-ass Kurtis, not my anxiety, not my panic, or the derealization or the pressure I had been putting on myself to finish the book. And especially not Lola.

All I thought about in that moment, all I cared for . . . was Mia. I pulled her closer. Her chest pressed into mine. She bit my lip. I gently pulled her hair back and moved my hand to the small of her back. She leaned against her door and raised her leg to my waist, her dress falling back to reveal the length of her thigh. I looked down to see the edge of her black lace underwear. I gently put my weight into her as she thrust her waist forward. Her tongue entered my mouth.

She pulled back from the kiss.

“Damn, Daddy,” she said with a smirk.

I looked at her, flushed. “I wanna buy combat boots with you.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I wanna kick the world’s ass together!”

“It’s a deal,” she said, shaking my hand.

We parted ways and I went home to get some sleep.

? ? ?

The next day at Muldoon’s, things were as dull as they had been since I’d started. It had been about a month now. What a brutal comedown after last night. The same old, balding, white-haired, frail customer holding that cup of coffee over his nose, inhaling, and saying, “Coffee coffee coffee coffee,” then repeating it over and over and over again. By now, I’d just named him Coffee Joe, or Joe for short.

I saw Ann, who worked in the pharmacy, and just like always she insisted on making me take multivitamins in the morning. Like every other day, she would go out of her way to find me at pretty much the same exact time, then force them upon me with a smile. Of course, there was lovable Ronda, who worked in the front customer service area; DayDay, who had been working on replacing a fluorescent light near produce; and Kurtis, the green-haired deli dick who seemed to hate everyone. Lately, he’d been claiming someone had stolen his silver Zippo lighter from his locker.

As he passed me, he insisted that I had been the culprit.

There was Ted Daniels, still greeting customers with his yellow teeth protruding from his smile. Then there were Hector and Vernon, who would be coming for pickup that very day. It felt like Groundhog Day around here. Same shit, different day.

“Yo, come here, dude!”

And then there was Frank, of course. Standing by aisle nine.

When I caught up to him, he was grinning.

“Dude, Rachel is in the break room right now! I need you to do this for me.”

“I mean, look, I’ll do what I can,” I told him. “But being the ladies’ man you are, why don’t you just ask her yourself?”

Just then, the lights on this side of the store went extremely dim.

“Whoa, what the fuck?!” I said.

“Goddamn lights again, man. This place is falling apart,” said Frank with a smirk.

“DayDay to the electrical box, DayDay, your assistance is needed at the electrical box,” came a voice from the intercom. A disgruntled DayDay headed in that direction.

“Dumb-ass white people,” he muttered as he went. “Don’t wanna spend the proper money on shit, so a nigga gotta go get the ladder and climb his ass up the top of that shit and fix the lights. Always calling DayDay, and DayDay gotta be all ‘yes, massa, be right there, massa.’ I oughtta kill these white niggas.”

“Make sure you videotape it for me, baby!” Ronda shouted to him. It seemed like she was kidding, but then again, I never really knew.

“See, man, this is why there’s a gun in my locker. You never know what a crazy person is capable of. Shit, he might try to shoot my ass right here in aisle nine,” Frank said, half joking.

“What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“You know what’s wrong with me? I need to get laid! Now go ask Rachel for me, okay?!”

“I don’t understand why you just won’t ask her yourself, Frank. Damn!” I told him, a bit pissed off.

“Bro, we’ve been through this. I’m trying to take a different approach. Rachel is a smart-ass and I’m trying to bypass that side of her, y’know. Play a little hard to get. Tug at those heart strings, fam!” Frank paused and gave me a look that said do you feel me?

There was silence for a moment.

“I just don’t understand why you play these games with women. I mean, Rachel isn’t exactly a nun. I’m sure if you went up to her and were honest and clear about what you wanted, it would work out. Tell her you want a good time, no strings attached . . . especially heart strings! Be straight up. I think she would be about it, man.”