“I know!”
“Then don’t tell me to do something stupid like that.”
“Get it fixed and get it off the street.”
“It runs.”
“Barely.”
“Oh, why don’t you go away…” she waved her hand above her head. “Mr. High-and-Mighty, King of the HOA, shouldn’t be hanging in the bathroom with us plebeians…”
“I know,” he exclaimed, his eyes practically bugging out of his face as he gawked at her. “Look at you – and look at me…”
“I know I’m poor…”
“NO!” he shouted, slapping his forehead with both hands and knocking his baseball cap off his head onto the freshly mopped floor. “I’m in a uniform and…”
“Oh my gosh…”
“Exactly…”
“You’re one of those weird fan-boys who chase around their favorite teams – and I didn’t know you were gay, but as much dedication as you put into fertilizing your grass, I should have known…”
“I’m not gay!” he shrieked, turned around, and pointed at his shoulders. “Will you use your bloomin’ brains and put it all together?”
Sniffing delicately, she lowered the plunger and glared at him. “I’m not stupid…”
“You sure about that?” he retorted, his voice echoing off the walls. “'Cause I ain’t so sure right now…”
“I’m done,” she interrupted angrily – her limit for all of this day, the filthy stalls, and the crowds had reached its max. “I’ve had it, I’ve had it, I’ve freakin’ had it. In the words of Popeye, ‘I can’t stands-no-more’…”
“Oh, this should be good,” he snarled, leaning toward her. “You can’t get it through your thick head who I am – and now you’re quoting an old cartoon? I am not impressed in the slightest unless you are about to erupt a can of spinach from your bicep… or somewhere else – then color me impressed.”
“You’re a douche – and a jerk.”
“You’re a slob – and a nitwit…”
They stood there glaring at each other, and as Steffi drew in a deep breath, she heard the pounding at the door and the commotion for the first time. She’d been so shocked someone had raced in and shut the door with her inside that it had set her back on her heels. For a moment, she was frightened she was about to get accosted, especially when he started putting his hand down the front of his pants, but when she saw his profile, heard his voice… it went from bad to worse.
“DRAKE, I LOVE YOU…”
“DRAKE, COME OUT…”
“MARRY ME DRAKE WALKER…”
Steffi’s eyes hesitated as she remembered that the name on the back of the jersey was ‘Walker’ – and she knew her neighbor’s name was D.W., but she was pretty sure that stood for Douche-Wanker or something else insulting… but no. She wasstaring at her neighbor, Drake Walker, who obviously played professional ball for the Timberwolves All-Star Team. It must have shown on her face because he gave her a slow nod.
“Oh…”
“Yep…” he muttered grimly.
“If you go out there…”
“I’m gonna get pulverized, groped, and who knows what else…”
“Why are you in here?”
“Sheer stupidity and bad luck?” he lobbed back and winced. “Actually, I got hit with a ball – in my balls - and I need to see if I’m hurt.”
