Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(57)

“You didn’t say anything about that.” His eyes dart around like mad. “Someone’s going to see us. What if my grandma comes in? Or Father Hurley?”

“No one’s going to see us.”

“But what if they do?”

“They’ll think you’re a responsible dude. I’ll only be a second.” To be honest, I figured I’d have the same anxious reaction as Sean when we got here. But now that he’s acting all Chicken Little, it kind of makes me want to torture him a bit by dragging this out.

“What exactly do you need?” Matt says, more nonchalantly than I’d expect. Maybe he really has run the bases with Val.

“Let’s do condoms first.”

“Here.” Sean quickly grabs a box of condoms off the shelf. “What about these? Made from . . .” he reads the box, “real lambskin.” He cringes. “Ew. Sick. That’s like one step away from having sex with a lamb.”

“You’d know better than me.” I snatch the box from him and toss it into my shopping basket. “Isn’t that why you were banned from the petting zoo?”

“That’s not even funny.” Sean screws up his face. “People actually do that kind of thing and —”

“You have all their Web sites bookmarked? Boo ya!” I give Matt a fist bump.

“Noooo. And even if I did . . . it’s only because . . . your mother . . . e-mailed me the links.” Sean blinks hard. “Because she’s . . . into that sort of thing. With animals . . . and people . . . together. Doing stuff.”

“Good one, Sean,” I say as I reach over to the shelf, grab a Family Pack of Leviathans, and throw them in the basket. Odd that they call it a Family Pack when that’s exactly what they’re meant to prevent.

Matt stares down at the carton. “Those are for ‘the extra-large man.’”

“Right,” I say, dropping my voice an octave. “Might as well get some that I can use for when we win the Battle of the Bands, because the groupies are going to be swarming the stage.”

“You probably want the fun size then.” Matt grabs a random multicolored box of condoms off the shelf and waves it in my face. “For your pygmy schwang.”

“What’s that, Matt Gratton?” I announce loudly. “You have a pygmy schwang? That’s very brave of you to admit. Most guys would keep that to themselves.”

Matt flings the box of condoms at me. It hits my chest and drops into the basket.

“Nice shot,” I say.

Once we’ve grabbed a few other products — a bottle of lube, a Today sponge, a tube of spermicide, contraceptive foam, more condoms — we head over to the grooming supplies to finish up our shopping, then up toward the cashier.

“Are you going to be able to afford all of this?” Matt asks.

“Yeah. Of course. I’ve got a hundred and twenty bucks.”

I look down at the mound of contraceptives in my basket. I’m trying to act all caszh but the closer we get to the cash registers the sweatier I start to feel. “We have to split this stuff up,” I say, stopping at the end of the aisle. “It’ll look too weird if I’m buying it all by myself.”

Sean backs away. “I don’t think so. This was your idea.”

“I’ll give you the money,” I say.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Sean says. “I’m not about to go up there and have somebody see me buy all this . . . crap. They’ll think I’m some kind of perv.”

“I’m not asking you to buy a giant purple dildo, Sean. Grow up. People use this stuff to have safe sex.”

“Sex. Exactly. And that’s what the cashier will be picturing me doing as she rings it up.”

“Well, then, go to a guy cashier. He’ll think you’re a player.”

“Right. Unless he knows my sister,” Sean says. “And then he’ll tell her, and the whole world will find out. No. I’m not doing it. I’ll buy the grooming stuff if you want. But none of the other things.”

“You’re a real pal.” I turn to Matt. “What about you?”

Matt shrugs. “Sure. Fine.” He shifts his weight. “But give me a mix of things. And we should probably grab some . . .”— Matt scans the endcap filled with school supplies —“notebooks. And pens. And highlighters.” He pulls them from the shelves and chucks them into the basket. “So it’s a jumble of stuff, instead of a never-ending line of sex products.”

I nab two more baskets from the front of the store and return to Matt and Sean to separate the items. Sean gets most of the grooming products. Except for a bottle of lube, which I hide amidst the tanning sprays and teeth whitener, just because I can’t resist. Then I split up the money — forty dollars each — and we hit three separate cash registers.

I head over to an ancient liver-spotted dude with an eye patch and glasses, in hopes that he won’t be able to make out the things I’m buying. Matt goes the young-guy-maybe-he’ll-think-I’m-a-stud route.

And Sean casually strolls over to the till being manned by somebody’s grandmother because he has nothing to worry about. Or so he thinks.

I’ve got an anxious thrumming in my gut as I begin to place the items on the counter. Praying no one steps up behind me in line. I was busting on Sean for being such a *, but I have to say, I’ve never been so uncomfortable in my entire life.