Page 62 of Burn Bag
I glowered at him, but grabbed the first box. “Get another. I’m not scooping poop ever again.”
“You know, they have delivery services for this shit.”
“Quit your bitching. I needed it today.”
He hoisted his own box off the shelf, grumbling about how big it was. “You know, we could have grabbed a fucking cart. Why the hell do I have to drag this around?”
“Oh my God! Would you quit your whining? You’re just carrying a box! I’m pretty sure they taught you to carry heavy shit in the military!”
“They did, but I got out of the military so I didn’t have to do that anymore. You don’t see me digging latrines!”
“Maybe that would make you a little less cranky,” I argued. “Maybe Fox should work that into your training. You’ve spent too much time on your fucking ass.”
“Fuck off.” He dropped his box to the ground.
“You fuck off,” I snapped, doing the same.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a woman standing in front of me with her two little kids. One of them was staring up at us in shock, and the other was grinning mischievously.
Clearing my throat, I shifted uncomfortably. “Ma’am.”
The kid’s smile grew, and I just knew we were screwed. “Fuck off.”
I stalked backand forth in jail—the store’s version of jail, glaring at Dash every chance I got. The fucker was lounging on the plastic bench seat without a care in the world.
“I can’t believe you got me into this.”
He snorted, resting his head back against the wall. “Me? You dragged me down here. I was perfectly content in that meeting.”
“You were bored and you know it.”
“Maybe, but I did not see myself sitting in jail for the rest of the day.”
Yet, he sat there, practically sleeping on the bench. All I could think about was all the shit Daphne was getting up to at home. “I can’t believe they took our phones. That’s some kind of privacy violation or something, right?”
“You would think they would have just kicked us out of the store.”
“And they would have if you hadn’t started a fight with that kid,” I snapped.
His eyes flew open and he snarled at me. “That fucker kicked me in the shin when his mother wasn’t looking.”
“That does not give you the right to call him a little twat.”
“But he is a little twat!”
“Doesn’t fucking matter! He’s a kid. He couldn’t be any older than seven!”
Clearly, that didn’t matter to Dash. “Hey, if you want to bring your kids out in public, you make them behave. She’s lucky I didn’t give back as good as I got.”
“Do you even hear yourself? You’re going to kick a kid in the shin because he did it to you?”
“And?”
“And that’s wrong. How do you not know that?”
He shoved to his feet and got in my face. “Hey, if the kid can’t take it, he shouldn’t dish it out. We’re playing by schoolyard rules.”
“Did he know that?” I snapped. “You’re a fucking adult!”
