Page 18 of Hard Wood Daddy

As soon as it ticks past five of the little dash marks, I come undone. I throw myself through the same door where she disappeared, and stalk into the store like a wild man, the bell jingling more like a warning than a welcome this time. There’s apples and broccoli in the bins by the door. I’m tall enough to see down aisles without moving around. But her scent is faint, like she’s far away, so I scan the store, all the way to the back past the chips and soda and cans of soup, and there she is.

In the part of the store where they have the medicine and make up.

Someone’s talking to her.

He sounds angry, and as he turns a little I recognize him as the store owner. I know him and he’s not nice. He always rollshis eyes when I come to the register to pay for my supplies and have to count out the money three times before I’m sure it all adds up to the amount he wants.

I think he would take more than I owe if he could. He’s got those eyes. The take advantage kind of eyes.

I take out a pyramid of canned beans as I bolt her way. I’m at her back, standing over both of them, glowering at the piece of shit, and Tess looks scared.

The owner’s got his arms crossed, his body blocking Tess from leaving the store.

“Back away,” I snarl, my knuckles letting out a pop-pop-pop as I clench and extend my fingers.

He looks terrified as I approach, my long steps meeting the tile floor with resounding thuds.I’m not counting my money this time asshole,I think as I watch his throat move as he swallows hard.

The distance his eyes travel to get up to my head makes him more panicky. But he thinks he’s a tough guy, and he squares up his shoulders. “I saw this girl put nail polish into her pocket. She’s a thief. I’m calling the police.”

“Back. Away.” I say again, resting my hands on her shoulders.

He swallows again as I lean forward over Tess, locking my eyes with his.

My nostrils flare as he finally stumbles back.

Good.

“I could have her arrested,” he snaps, his voice cracking as I take a long inhale over Tess’s hair.

My cock jerks in my pants, nudging against the middle of Tess’s back, but she doesn’t move.

“How would you call the cops with two broken hands?” I ask, and his eyes widen.

“You can’t threaten me, I know who you are—”

I don’t let him finish, retrieving the little shopping basket that she’s holding filled with cans of kitten food. “What’s this worth? Twenty? Forty?” I’ve got cash. Money’s not a problem. I reach into my pocket and throw a handful of twenties at him, and I know it’s more than enough for nail polish and cat food. It’s better than he deserves. “Now you can fuck off.”

He gapes at me like a dying fish for a minute, before scrambling to pick up the money. I step over him on the way out the door, steering my woman with my hand on her back around this waste of flesh.

I grab a bag as we pass the register, dropping the cans inside, then throwing the basket over my head, listening to it crash into the ceiling then fall to the floor with a crunch as the bells on the door signal our exit.

Tess is giggling when we get back to the pickup, like adrenaline has rushed through her. Her face is red though. She’s embarrassed.

“That was so bad,” she says. “I could have been arrested.”

“No,” I say. “I’d never allow that.”

“But…” She pulls nail polish out of her pocket. The unopened bottle is glittery and green.

“We paid for it.” I put the pickup into gear and pull out of the parking lot, wondering if she put it in her pocket by mistake or on purpose.

And does it matter?

“I was going to steal it.” She reads my mind, and I dislike the shame in her voice. “I’ve done it before, too. I just…” She seems to search the toes of her shoes for what comes next. “I’ve never had much money. And I can’t wear cute clothes, even if I could afford them. People get weird about me—about my body. Boys used to try to grab me. That’s why I wear men’s clothes. Big things. My mom’s boyfriends would either make fun of me or try—” She leaves that there when I start to growl as red creeps intomy vision. “So, anyway… nails are kind of the only thing I can do to make myself feel pretty. Fancy, I guess. And I can barely afford cat food, so—”

“You don’t have to explain.” I swing open the passenger door, fixing the bag in the space behind her seat, then circle her soft waist in my hands and lift her into the truck, reaching around to buckle the belt over her cute little belly. “If you’re doing it, it’s right. I don’t care, but if you want polish, I’ll buy it for you. All the colors. But not from there.” I jerk my head toward the grocery as the sun turns my forehead warm. “We will find another store. A bigger store with the whole rainbow of colors, and I’ll fill a cart with them so you can have polish forever.”

I inhale, holding my breath, wondering if she thinks I’m crazy or stupid. Or both.

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