I nod and remove my jacket. “I can do that. Let me put my coat away and I’ll get started.”
“You’re a lifesaver, Street,” he says and pats my shoulder. His hand brushes my hair and he gives me one of those fatherly looks he’s fond of. “Shouldn’t wash your hair in this weather. You’ll catch a cold.”
I crack a smile and head towards the back of the store where the locker room is. “That’s an old wives’ tale, Mr. Wilson.”
He barks a laugh. “I guess you’d know. I haven’t had hair in about forty years.” He rubs his bald head for emphasis.
After I put my coat away, I grab as many boxes as I can carry and head to the hardware aisle.
Dropping the boxes on the floor, I use my box cutter to open them, and then look at what needs to be stocked.
I pull out my AirPods and stuff them in my ears, pulling up my Baddies playlist. Before I press play, I go through the playlist to make sure Camden didn’t add “All I Want For Christmas Is You” more than once. He’s an asshole who would pull that type of shit.
Sure that the song is good and deleted, I press play and bob my head to Britney Spears telling me how toxic she is.
I work quickly and efficiently, scanning in all the items before I put them neatly on the shelf. A few of the tourists lodging at the ski resort stop in and grab some essentials, asking what supplies they might need in case they’re snowed in. I tell them, getting more and more annoyed every time someone makes me stop my music. I already don’t want to be here, so I’m easily irked by the interruptions.
Finishing my first set of boxes, I trek to the back to get more. I have ten more boxes to stock, some filled to the brim. Checkingmy watch, I see that I’ve already been here for two hours. There’s no way I’ll get the rest of the boxes done.
I open each box to see what’s inside. After doing a brief inventory, I figure out which boxes to stock by what shelves are empty and what most people will grab in a last-minute bid to be prepared.
Once I have that all sorted out, I grab three boxes stacked one on top of the other, and head back out to the floor, wanting to complete this last bit of stocking so I can go home. I’ve already done my grocery shopping and I’m prepared in case I get snowed in. Mr. Wilson made sure of that.
My music is turned down low, so I can hear the arguing in the aisle ahead of me. “Trevor, come on. We should head back. The weather app says there could be fifteen inches of snow overnight. We’ll be stuck up there. We’re the last road on the mountain with no neighbors.”
I know the cabin he’s talking about. It’s owned by some corporation, and they rent it out much like Mr. Wilson does with the places he owns. No one goes up there during inclement weather because it’s hard to get up there for a rescue if it snows too heavily.
But that’s none of my business.
There’s a scoff, then someone—Trevor, I assume—says, “That app is a lie. I watched the news before we got here. We’re only supposed to get two inches, three tops. Get whatever bullshit you think we’ll need with your paranoid ass. We need to get to the cabin before?—”
As I round the corner, a tall man with spiky dark hair and piercings in his face bumps into me, knocking me into a shelf, and sending my AirPods flying and the contents of the boxes scattering everywhere. A small twink stumbles beside him, glaring up at the pierced asshole.
“Watch where the fuck you’re going, motherfucker,” Pierced Asshole growls at me, getting in my face.
I look at him with a practiced, bored expression, though anger rises in me at his fucking audacity. If he knew who I was and what the fuck I’m capable of, he wouldn’t be so fucking confrontational.
“How?” I ask. “I had boxes in my hands. Not like you had to come barreling around the corner.”
“Who thefuckdo you think you’re talking to? I could buy and sell you like that.” He snaps his fingers. “So if I were you, I’d be careful.”
“And if I’m not?” I ask, ticking up an eyebrow.
Pierced Asshole puffs his chest out as if he wants to tell me exactly what, but the twink whose hand he has a death grip on says, “Trevor, that’s enough. It’s not like he bumped into you on purpose.” The twink bends down and scoops up my AirPods before Asshole McGee can step on them. “Here. Sorry about that.”
He’s… Christ, he’s gorgeous. Curly dark hair and big brown eyes. Full lips. Very pretty.
He pleads with his eyes for me to take the AirPods from his hand, begging me not to cause any trouble. But it’s not like I started it. He’s lucky I don’t fucking finish it.
I glare at Asshole for another moment, trying to control my temper so I don’t pull out my box cutter and slit his fucking throat right now. He ticks up a pierced eyebrow, as if daring me.
Before I can make good on my thought, the twink steps between us, pushing against Asshole McGee’s chest. “Calm down, Trevor,” he says.
“You should listen to him,” I say, keeping my voice low but allowing a lethal edge to creep through it. I take the headphones from the cute twinks hand.
“Yeah?” Asshole McGee says, a taunting smile on his face. “Or what?”
Fucking dick.
