Page 26 of The Players

But I had done the homework, albeit not my best work, but I should know what she was asking.

I repeated the ir, ar, and er verbs I had used last night, then gave a nod, hoping to portray confidence.Like that would save me.

Señora Gibson sighed. “La próxima vez no tardes tanto.”

Phew. She had admonished me for being slow, but it seemed like I’d given the answer she was looking for because she moved on to some other poor classmate of mine.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I glanced around to see if anyone else was feeling the pressure. Unfortunately, the only one who met my gaze was Savannah. She seemed annoyed that I hadn’t gotten in trouble. Had she told Señora Gibson to call on me? Well, if she had, I’d foiled her little plan.

I gave her a smirk and a flip of my hair. She’d have to try better than that to get the best of me. Maybe she wasn’t all that formidable after all.

Chapter twelve

Unfortunately,myjoyofbesting Savannah in Spanish class was short-lived because there were still no return calls from Mills for the rest of the day. No texts or DMs. Not even a smoke signal. Mills was MIA.

After school, I asked Hector and Lowell to look for him, and they agreed. They seemed to understand the seriousness of the situation. Had something happened to him? The Hills wouldn’t have done something terrible to Mills, would they? I had no idea if they’d go that far, but it seemed likely after last weekend.

I had little time to worry about it since I’d promised Randy I would come and help her at her parents’ grocery store today. The store was on shaky ground and the threat of being bought out was making things worse. Her parents were taking the day to go talk to a lawyer, and I’d volunteered to help Randy out. I’d worked at the store a few times before but never had it felt so dire as it did today.

The store was a typical Mom-N-Pop grocer, smaller than the chain stores in most towns. Even though it had less of the pizzazz of the big chain stores, it had little touches that made it feel homey. There were the rose bushes by the front doors that I knew Randy’s mom tended lovingly each spring and summer. The bushes had lost their flowers now since fall was here, but I knew those pink blossoms would be back next year. When I entered the sliding glass doors, I was greeted with handmade signs in Randy’s mom’s expert lettering. One announced a sale on beef, and another reminded customers that Tuesday was Double Coupon Day.

I walked past the stacks of carts and through the second set of doors into the store.

Bright lights blazed overhead while a far-off speaker played a Golden Oldie from her dad’s favorite radio station. The smell of floor cleaner mingled with the scents of bread from the bakery and the sugary smell of someone’s perfume at the check-out counter. Randy was there, scanning an elderly woman’s groceries, the constant beep of the machine lulling her into a kind of automatic stupor. She was wearing all black, not her normal rainbow of colors, but I saw she had on black lace gloves and a choker just so she wouldn’t look too mundane. I was glad that even the blue staff vests her parents made everyone wear couldn’t mute Randy’s sense of style.

“Randy,” I said, walking over and standing behind the end of the belt where the plastic and paper bags waited. “I’m here.”

“Oh, thank God,” she said, her eyes growing large. “There’s a clean-up on Aisle Ten.”

“Seriously?” I said one eyebrow going up.

“No, silly. But there is a clean-up in the men’s bathroom. Men are pigs. Am I right, Mrs. Agonetti?”

“You are right, Miranda.” The old woman punctuated her words with a finger in the air. “Stay away from boys and their trouser worms altogether.”

I snorted at the term “trouser worms” but covered it with my fist. “Thanks for the advice. I’ll keep it in mind.”

She gave me a hard look. “Best you do. Don’t want to get knocked up now. How would you ever get a man to marry you?”

I blinked at her backward thinking but gave her a reassuring smile. “Thank you. Yes, Very important. Marriage. Can’t be an old spinster.”

She gave another empathic nod and then leaned over to glance at the grocery total. I could tell she was about to haggle on the price of something. “I’ll just get started on that bathroom, shall I?”

Randy gave me a secret eye-roll and then said, “Get gloves. You’re going to need them.”

None of this sounded like a fun afternoon to me, but Randy required my help. I walked to the back, giving a wave to Brendan, the other grocery clerk. Brendan was twenty-two and sometimes hit on Randy, though she seemed to have no interest. I wasn’t sure why. I mean, the guy did have very blond, wispy hair that stood up like electrocuted feathers, sure. And his clothes were always stained, yes. And he lived in his mother’s basement… But he was nice? Never mind, I did know why Randy turned him down.

The backroom door led to the small staff room and even smaller back office. There was a staff bathroom that smelled like antiseptic soap and a microwave that smelled like burnt popcorn. I ignored both and grabbed a spare staff vest before searching around for the gloves Randy said I needed. Once I had those and my cleaning supplies, I headed to the men’s bathroom and prayed it wouldn’t be too bad.

It was.

When I finished—and wished I could burn that memory out of my head forever—I did the women’s bathroom. Then I walked around the store, making sure there were no more messes or items out of place. I helped a customer find canned lima beans and a child recover his lost hat.

It was nearly three hours before I stopped to take a break and found Randy in the breakroom shoving Cheetos in her mouth by the fistful.

“If you’re in here, who’s running the register?” I asked.

“The register? Oh, shit.” Her eyes bugged out and she started forward before batting at the air and laughing at her own joke. “Brendan’s taking a turn. That cake sniffer can earn his keep for a change.”

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