Page 32 of Bottle Rocket
Golf.
She couldn’t imagine a world where Leo Whittaker held a golf club that wasn’t meant for smashing something, but there they were.
Still, she’d gone to her shift to sell fireworks prepared for a late-night booty call. She had an overnight bag in her car. There were benefits to being a super planner.
The fireworks stand had hit a lull by seven, and they only had one customer. Unfortunately, he was a jerk.
“Which of those firecrackers is the loudest?”
Rosie gave a tight-lipped grimace to the middle-aged white man in front of her. He was ruddy-faced and seemingly jocular, but in a way that set her teeth on edge. He’d already asked her which firecracker had the “best scent” and the “most excitingpeak.” Rosie didn’t get paid enough for this.
Actually, she wasn’t getting paid at all for this.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know,” she said.
“Well, you work here, don’t you?” He grinned. “Maybe you should.”
“This fireworks stand is a week-long fundraiser for the school district’s teachers’ association. I’m a kindergarten teacher.” Several signs—on the nearby road and the stand—advertised the teachers association and asked for support for local educators. She figured it would be obvious that “fireworks saleswoman” wasn’t her full-time job, but perhaps not.
She pointed out the bricks of flashlight crackers and M-80s. “These all go bang.”
She tried to focus on the things she liked about working the fireworks stand rather than the things she didn’t—i.e. customer service. She loved the smell of flash powder and cheap paper. It reminded her of summertime—of Benji as a child, playing with sparklers in the parking lot of their apartment complex, a maniacal grin on his face, and Sasha running through a sprinkler to keep cool. Good childhood memories. Shiny summer ones. She didn’t have a ton of those.
“Anything I can do to convince you to come to my party?” the man asked, snapping her out of her memories.
“Nope, sorry.”
This was the second time he’d invited her to his Fourth of July party. She didn’t have Independence Day plans yet, but she figured they’d involve her clit and Leo’s mouth. Woo, patriotism.
Her plans definitely wouldn’t be with this bastard.
“What’s your favorite of the bigger canister shells?” the man said. “Maybe if I buy it, you’ll come.”
She gestured to one of the most expensive fireworks in the stand. “The Big A-Hole is very popular. It’s only two hundred dollars.”
“What’s it called?” he asked, squinting in the direction she’d pointed.
“The Big Hole.”
Her coworker, Tyler Vlachos, snorted. Tyler, a special education teacher at her elementary school, sent her a searching look as if he were asking, “Want me to step in?” Rosie smiled at Tyler to show him she was fine.
Tyler wore Hawaiian shirts every day, even in the winter, and was currently sporting black socks with his sandals. He was aJeopardywinner and one of the funniest people she knew. She adored him.
“There’s that smile I’ve been waiting for,” the customer said. “You’re prettier when you smile.”
She mean-mugged him before grabbing two large variety packs and smacking them on the wooden counter. “Variety packs are buy one, get one free. They have everything you’ll need for your party.”
“Okay.”
“And I don’t smile for men who can’t take a hint. I laugh at them.”
The man’s eyes went dark, but he huffed and threw down forty dollars. “No need to be snippy about it.” He snatched the variety packs and stormed off.
Rosie gathered up his money and happily put it in the cashbox. “I’m surprised he bought anything.”
Tyler grinned. “I eternally remain in your thrall, my work wife.”
“You couldn’t pay me enough to take another trip down matrimony lane, but you do make it tempting, Tyler.”
