Beat the Band (Swim the Fly #2)(58)

My strategy is simple. Hair color first, followed by a couple of condom three-packs hidden under a package of pens, then a tube of spermicide and a can of contraceptive foam camouflaged nicely by a notebook and some aftershave.

“Nice weather we’re having, huh?” the old guy says as he starts ringing up my stuff.

“Yeah, it’s great,” I answer. Oh, God, I hope I didn’t land the chatty cashier. I need this to go fast and smooth.

I avert my eyes, employing the if-I-can’t-see-him-he-can’t-see-me technique. I pretend to be captivated by the check-out stand magazines. Well, well, look who has cellulite. Mm, wow, celebrities without makeup. They look so different. “Marry Me!” says Britney.

“So, big plans for this weekend?” the guy asks, scanning and bagging my items.

My eyes flick over to him, then dart back to the magazines. “What?”

“I was inquiring about your weekend plans. Doing anything exciting?”

I glance at the pack of multicolored condoms he’s holding and feel my chest tighten. “Um. No.”

He scans the item and places it in the bag with the rest of the stuff. “Weatherman says Indian summer. Which means the wife’ll want me to do some serious humping on Saturday.”

I blink. Not sure I’ve heard him correctly. “I’m sorry. What?” Christ. Why is he telling me this? Just because I’m buying condoms doesn’t mean I need to hear about his exploits.

“It’s not like I mind it.” He scans the contraceptive foam. The notebook. The aftershave. “It’s just, there are other things I’d rather be doing on a sunny day, right? Instead of having to lug all the garbage down to the junkyard.”

“Oh. Right,” I say. That kind of humping. It takes me a moment to supplant the image of this old dude going primal on his wife with the one of him lugging trash, but thankfully, my twisted mind obliges me.

“Hey, Ernie!” It’s the old lady who’s ringing up Sean. She’s looking over at us and waving the red bottle of lube I snuck into Sean’s basket. “Do you know how much the SlideRight Sensuous-Strawberry Personal Stimu-Lube is?”

Sean’s face goes pale. His eyes wide with horror. He’s shaking his head no and moving his lips, but no words are coming out.

“What?” Ernie says, cupping his ear with his hand.

“SlideRight Sensuous-Strawberry Personal Stimu-Lube!” the grandmotherly woman shouts. “Do you know the price?”

Ernie scrunches up his nose. “What is it?”

“It’s sexual lubricant. Flavored. This kid wants to buy it. And it’s not giving me a price.”

Ernie throws his hands in the air. “I have no idea. Call Martin.” He punches in some numbers on the register and squints at the screen with his one eye. “Thirty-eight seventy-three.”

I look over at Matt, who is standing by the front door holding a plastic bag, shaking with suppressed laughter.

I hand two twenties to Ernie and watch as Sean tries to reach over the counter and grab the bottle of lube from the old lady. But she’s turned away and already has the intercom phone to her ear.

There’s a beep-beep over the store speaker, followed by the old lady’s nasal voice calling out, “Martin. Can you get me a price on SlideRight Sensuous-Strawberry Personal Stimu-Lube? The four-ounce bottle?”

“No, no, no,” Sean says.

I get my change, grab my purchases, and head over to Matt so we can watch the show together.

“I thought you only gave him grooming products,” Matt says, laughing.

“I slipped him one thing,” I say. “I thought for sure he’d spot it before it got rung up.”

There’s another beep-beep over the intercom. “Say again?” a man’s voice calls over the loudspeaker.

Sean’s waving his hands frantically. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Never mind. I don’t want it. I don’t want it.”

“Don’t worry, honey,” the old lady says. “It’ll just be a second. We’ve got to get it into the computer anyway. I’ll be right back.” She steps from behind the counter and walks off toward customer service.

“All right,” I say. “I guess we better go save him.”

Me and Matt hurry over to Sean, who looks like he might blow a gasket.

“I’m going to kill you,” Sean says to me through clenched teeth.

“Oh, come on.” I laugh. “You have to admit. That was pretty funny. Just leave the cash and lets get out of here.” I snatch the two twenties from his hand and toss it on the counter.

Matt grabs the bag of goods, I grab Sean’s arm, and the three of us hightail it out of there.

Me and Matt hold ourselves together heroically as we hit the streets.

Until we both glance at Sean’s scowling, something-stinks expression.

And then we’re cracking up all over again.





“NO OFFENSE, DUDE,” Matt says, his hair matted with sweat. “But don’t you think your dad’s maybe taking this band thing a little too seriously?”

“That was sick how many times he made us play ‘Paint It Black.’” Sean flexes his fingers.

We’re hanging in my room following our four-hour after-dinner rehearsal. The guys agreed to stay over again to get in some extra band practice. I tried to come up with a caszh way of inviting Helen to stay over, you know, just because. I had the whole scenario worked out in my head. Her lack of pajamas. Her need to borrow one of my T-shirts. Me explaining how there was plenty of room for both of us in my bed.