“I’ve seen shoot outs in more populated areas.”
“This whole town isn’t a populated area,” I comment with a small laugh, trying not to be annoyed.
Typically, their protectiveness doesn’t bother me, but right now? When I’m trying to be sneaky and get away with something? It’s annoying as hell!
Looking unsure, his gaze goes from me to the aisles.
“Fine.” He leans close, lowering his voice. “But if anything happens that makes you feel uncomfortable, and I meananything, you scream your head off.”
“Will do. Promise.”
He hurries off and I move forward, putting my two items on the conveyor belt, then adding the rest of the items behind it.
“Cute baby.”
I look behind me, to where the voice came from. There’s a man there, one who wasn’t there a moment ago. He’s tall, lanky, and pale. His hair is greasy, and so is his face. His clothes are too big for him, stained and with holes.
“Thank you,” I say, pushing forward to put more distance between us. He steps closer.
“How old is it?”
I try not to act offended by that. I understand you can’t tell the sex of a baby, but for one: she’s in pink. And for two: knowing or not, you shouldn’t call a babyit.
“Sheis two months.” I put more items on the belt, looking at the woman in front of me, who seems like she has all the time in the world.
“No, ma’am,” the cashier says. “It’s forty. Four zero. Not fourteen.”
Good god.
“Oh, well, in that case give me that twenty back.”
“I just need another twenty.”
“No, no, no. Give it back,” she snaps, shaking her hand at him.
With a huff, he hands the money back to her.
“The change too, young man.”
“But it’s the same change. You gave me the twenty-eight cents. That didn’t change.”
“Hand me my money back,” she demands, all while the man behind me is breathing down my neck. It’s an awful stench; like he doesn’t brush his teeth.
Nausea rolls in my stomach, threatening to come up my throat. I feel the panic coming on, the memories of where I was and who I was with…
Where is Tommy?
Suddenly, I’m no longer worried about keeping this secret. I just want out of here. I feel stuck, unable to go forward and certainly not able to go backward. My heart starts to pound, and I look down at Dorothea who is sleeping, her little lips puckered. God, she’s beautiful. It grounds me for a moment, until the man speaks again.
“So, are you here alone?”
“No,” I say quickly.
“You sure about that?” he asks, moving even closer. His rancid breath makes me want to vomit.
“Here is twenty,” the old woman says, handing the young cashier a bill. “And then another twenty.” He rolls his eyes, all patience gone. “And how much was the change?”
“Twenty-eight cents, ma’am,” he says with a huff.
