Chapter 10 Reason Three #2
She approached with an air of superiority and a smile that didn’t quite make it to her eyes. I wondered what he had told her. What ridiculous lie he had spun to slander my name. Judging by experience, it was probably something terrible that I’d never be able to live down.
She looked to be in her mid-twenties. A landslide of long, curly blonde hair swayed behind her, hanging well past her hips. She, like most of the female customers I’d seen, wore a flowing denim skirt, the hem resting at her ankles.
“Hi there. You must be Kent.”
I smiled at her, reaching out to shake her hand. She stared at it nervously, as if debating whether she wanted to touch me or turn and run away.
“Something wrong?”
She shook her head, that same fake smile still stretched across her face. “I have a thing about germs. Nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal.” I nodded. “Weren’t you just working the cash register? I’d think money would be a lot less sanitary than my hand, but that’s fine.” I scowled at her, and then I peered over her shoulder. Gray spotted me staring, and I arched an eyebrow at him.
Your move.
He darted his gaze down, eyeing the keys on the cash register as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world.
“Well, anyway, Mr. Collins wanted me to show you the ropes. I’m Becca. He said that he’s sorry he can’t show you himself. He just gets these headaches, you see."
“Does he now?” I reached into my pocket and pulled out a pack of gum.
After popping a piece in my mouth, I held one out for her.
The color drained from her face. I wanted to shout that I wasn’t diseased.
That she couldn’t catch my homosexuality from touch alone.
“Funny,” I said, glancing back at Gray, “I’d think all that beeping and endless chit-chat with customers would be a lot worse for a headache than stocking things on shelves in a quiet aisle.
But that’s fine too. Alright, Becca. Let’s roll. ”
She looked away nervously before making her way down the aisle. “This way,” she said, glancing back at me.
Gray and I avoided each other for the rest of the evening. Becca rattled on about canned goods and display racks for the better part of three hours, testing every ounce of my patience.
The store had been empty for an hour when his voice came over the intercom.
“Becca, you and him can go ahead and head out. No use racking up payroll when it’s this slow.
” I turned to Becca, who was already rushing to the stockroom, untying her smock along the way.
I followed her to the back. Once I clocked out, I made my way toward the employee restroom.
The three Red Bulls I’d consumed in the last six hours had run straight through me.
The restroom was vile on every imaginable level. There were no individual stalls or urinals, just a single toilet, a sink, and an overwhelming air of revulsion.
Piss circled the base of the toilet, and there were green smears on the walls that looked like something picked out of an elephant’s trunk.
Someone had left the remains of excrement floating in the bowl, making the room smell like a sewer.
I turned around to lock the door, and the doorknob fell off in my hand.
“How is this my life?” I shouted at my reflection in the filthy mirror.
Setting the dislodged remains of the door handle in the sink, I lifted the tail of my shirt, holding it over my nose to mask the stench.
Lifting my foot to the toilet’s handle, I flushed it with my shoe and took a step back.
Once the bowl was empty, I used my free hand to unbutton my jeans and awkwardly fumbled with the waistband of my underwear, trying to pull my dick out before I wound up pissing all over myself.
Once the stream started, I tilted my head back and my eyes rolled into my head.
“Oh, my gosh.”
I jerked my head toward the door, piss still pouring out of me like an endless waterfall. The bathroom door was open, and Gray’s eyes were fixed directly on my dick. I racked my brain, trying to find words. Any words. Seriously, any word would do.
“Oh my fucking God, Gray. Get out!” I shouted at him. He blinked a few times, but his gaze remained locked on my crotch. “Stop staring at my junk. Jesus Christ, dude.”
With my bladder empty, I shoved my penis back inside my underwear and buttoned my pants. I turned and stared at him, neither of us speaking. His eyes finally rose from my now-clothed crotch and met my gaze.
“Why are you—”
“You barged in on me! I was just trying to take a piss. Jesus, Gray. Did you forget how to knock?”
He shook his head, his short, dark brown hair not moving an inch thanks to the metric ton of product he had slathered through it. His big brown eyes were soft, and for a second, I saw the boy that I knew. My Two-liter. Then they narrowed.
“Why are you here?” he said.
“I needed to take a piss,” I repeated, walking to the sink. When I turned on the faucet, yellow water with dark brown flakes poured out. I pointed at the tap and gagged. “That’s disgusting.”
“No. Here. Why are you back? I don’t want you here,” he said as the muscles in his jaw tensed. “Not in the store, not in West Clark, not in—”
I lifted both of my hands to my chest, giving him two obnoxious thumbs up. “Good to know. I don’t want to fucking be here either, but I am. So, you can either learn to cope—”
“You’re fired,” he said. “You don’t belong here. Not anymore.”
I took a step toward him. It was met with a step back. “Dude, come on.” I groaned. “That’s stupid. I’m not here for that.”
“There is no that,” he barked.
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “No, there’s not.
And thank God.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm down before I inadvertently mentioned that night.
On the list of things that I never wanted to discuss with Gray Collins, it reigned supreme.
“I’m just here because I need the job. I need the money.
I didn’t come back for you, you arrogant little—”
“Is that what this is, then? Blackmail?”
His words were ridiculous, and I hoped my eye roll got that point across. “No, I don’t want your damn money. I just want a job. Believe me, I’d rather be anywhere else. Working for anybody else. I’d prefer Satan himself.”
He reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “How much?”
“What?”
“How much to get you to leave? I have a little over twenty-three thousand saved in the bank.” He dug through the lining of his wallet, counting the bills inside. “And I have three-hundred bucks in cash.”
“Who still carries cash?” I said. Ignoring my terribly important question, Gray pulled out a checkbook and a pen from his pocket. “And who just walks around with a goddamn checkbook? Is this 1957?”
He scribbled on the check, his hands shaking. “How much?” he asked again.
“Are you high? How many times do I have to say this? I don’t want your money. I just want a job. You’re the one who burst in on me and stared at my cock like it was singing you some siren song.”
His eyes dipped down my body, pausing at my crotch. The bastard licked his lips.
No. He didn’t get to look at me like that. Not anymore.
I took a step forward.
He took a step back. Then another. He kept backtracking until there was no floor left behind him.
Nevertheless, he persisted, bumping into the wall and banging his head against a paper towel dispenser.
He rubbed the back of his head, and there was almost an urge to comfort him.
To rub that ridiculous little bald spot of his, and ask if he was okay.
His gaze lifted, starting at my feet, and ending at my face.
I walked toward him, leaving only inches between us.
He let out a whimper like he was a caged animal waiting to be devoured.
Luckily for him, I was in no mood for a snack.
"You have nothing to worry about," I said. "I don't fuck cowards."
Tears were already welling in my eyes and I refused to let him see that he’d gotten to me.
So, I walked. I walked out of the stockroom, and then out of the store.
I wanted to keep walking until there was no road left in front of me.
To walk until he was once again a distant memory from a different life.