Page 12 of On the Double

“I’ll be right back. My truck is right outside.”

“Sure! Take your time.” As he turned and walked away, I flopped down on the conveyor and groaned. Why did I have to daydream right in the middle of ringing him up? And why had I offered to buy his groceries? I could barely afford my own! I was so stupid.

“He’s coming back,” someone whispered.

I popped upright and smiled brightly as he handed over his cash. When I handed him his change, he nodded politely. “Have a magical day!”

His footsteps stalled for a moment as he glanced over his shoulder and looked at me, then hurried to the door. This time, I sank to the floor in a puddle like a melting ice cream cone on a hot day.

“Oh my God! What was I thinking?”

“It’s okay,” the woman in line said. “I’m sure he was charmed by your…um…personality.”

I scrubbed my hands over my face and groaned. “I have no personality!Unless you mean a complete spastic nut job! I stared at him while I was daydreaming about him!”

“Was it a good daydream?” the woman asked.

“He asked what time I got off. I said three and he said he would have me off by five.”

“Wow. You know, when I meet a man, I usually daydream about him carrying my groceries or cutting my grass.”

I shot her a glare, then pushed to my feet as my manager came storming over. The woman quickly schooled her features and pretended I was checking her out as I started scanning, not even paying attention to what I was doing. I was so nervous.

“Harper, what are you doing? This isn’t your break.”

“I’m so sorry. I was…”

“I dropped my nail on the floor. She was looking for it,” the woman intervened, smiling at my boss.

“You dropped your nail? By the cash register?”

“The darn thing just flew off my finger.”

“And where is this nail?”

“Uh…I wasn’t able to find it.”

The woman, thank God she was a quick thinker, yanked off her fake nail and showed the manager her now bleeding finger from where the fake nail tore her real nail too low.

Angry that he couldn’t find something to fire me over, he stormed away. I breathed a sigh of relief, then grabbed some paper towels and wrapped the woman’s finger. “You just saved my life.”

“Women have to stick together. What that man needs is a good blow job.”

I looked up in surprise. “I thought you daydreamed of men cutting your grass?”

“Honey, men think with their penises. Women think about chores getting done.”

I laughed and rang her up, giving her every discount I could think of for her help. “Well, I’m still in the stage of my life where I think about penises.”

She grabbed her bags and glanced at me one last time. “Find a husband and that will change really fast.”

I walkedthrough the front door and saw Oliver sitting in his favorite recliner, drinking a beer. We got this house after my parents died, and Oliver had no desire to change a single thing. Old photos still hung on the walls, my dad’s cigarette tray was still on the table between the two recliners, and the same floral valances hung above the windows.

It was an awful throwback to the 90’s.

“Hey, shorty,” I said, flopping down in the other recliner.

He snorted and drank his beer. He was at least six foot three, but when we were kids, I was taller than him. “Get in any trouble today?”

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