RUST
I gotta do something.A distraction!
I speed-walk toward the rack by the checkout and grab a light straw cowboy hat with a leather hatband. Dusting it off, I block the old man’s view with the brim before trying it on.
“Excuse me, sir, does this make me look like a real cowboy?” I ask, eagerly stepping in front of him.
“Looks fine, son,” he mumbles, but he doesn’t spare me a glance, leaning on his stool to peek past me at Tally.
Shit. Not good enough.
Then I remember the produce basket. Bingo!
I rush over and grab the biggest, thickest cucumber. “Sir, excuse me! Excuse me!” I wave the girthy vegetable over my head. “Are these organic? Cause where this is going, pesticides are a dealbreaker.” I jut my chin at my ass.
The old fella’s head jerks in my direction. “Whereisit goi–“ He cuts himself off, eyes wide. “My wife grows ‘em in the backyard. That’s all I can say.”
“Great! Thanks.”
I hope Tally is done soon. If I look now, I’ll draw attention back to her.
I stroll to the toiletry shelf where I pick up a huge jar of petroleum jelly. Nodding, I hold it into the light like it’s the holy grail. “And sir, is this uh… theextra-slickvariety? Me and that cucumber are gonna deal with a very tight, very high-friction environment tonight.”
The man pales. “I-I couldn’t tell ya, son.”
I grab a packet of condoms that’s out of date by far too long and the old guy throws a hand across his heart. Damn, I might give him a stroke after all, but at least it’s for the noblest cause of all: love.
“I’ll wait outside,” Tally coos and the man’s eyes snap back to her.
Damn it! Just shut your pretty mouth, finish your bubblegum heist, and leave!
She’s been so caught up in playing the criminal, she hasn’t noticed my insane distraction tactics. I bet she still thinks she’s slick as hell.
“Missy—” the owner starts and I know I gotta up my game to take home the win.
Letting out a whistle, I grab a roll of duct tape from the shelf behind me and rush to the counter, dropping my strange selection of items.
I point at the duct tape. “Is this extra strength?”
The fella grimaces like my voice reminded him of a terrible memory, most likely my earlier comments about cucumbers and Vaseline and friction. I get it. Even in my own mind, it evokes nauseating imagery.
“You reckon this is gonna stick to wet skin if a person really struggles?” I ask. “I meana cow. If acowreally struggles.”
His mouth gapes. “Duct tape on a cow?”
He looks over at an old landline phone on the counterand I worry he might call the cops on me for acting suspicious. But so far, I’ve done nothing wrong. Being a weirdo ain’t a crime and I intend to pay for my stuff.
The bell above the door chimes and I hold back a sigh. Thank fuck my partner in crime got away with a whole goddamn pack of gum as her prize. What a feat.
“Nevermind. I won’t need this then,” I say, putting aside the condoms and the cucumber. “I’ll take the rest and the gas.”
The old guy blinks at me. Poor man. I’ve traumatized him, but he’s completely forgotten about Tally.
“Of course,” he mutters, now purposely avoiding eye contact.
After I’ve paid, he packs everything in brown paper bags. I drop a few dollars in a tip jar by the register to cover the gum—and the psychological trauma—and head outside. Tally leans against the front fender of my truck, grinning like she won the lottery. I open the passenger door for her and she climbs in.
When I drop into the driver’s seat and put the bags in the footwell, she flicks my hat. “Nice.”
