“Hey! Archer, haven’t seen you in like a year. Where ya been?” Jeff asked.
“Working,” the man answered, not giving anything more than that.
“Here.” Delaney shoved a Coke in my hands with a sandwich. “Eat.”
“Thanks,” I muttered, taking a bite of what looked like a turkey sandwich. It was probably good, but I hardly paid attention as I calculated how much time it would take to finish everything for a grand re-opening tomorrow.
There was still so much to do. The clothes had just arrived. Everything had to be priced and entered into the system, which I didn’t have a fucking clue how to work. The mirrors hadn’t been installed over the freshly painted walls. The tables were still in shambles, which meant clothes couldn’t be laid out.
I just didn’t see how it was all going to come together.
Most of the town had gone home after the cleanup was complete, and those with kids at home couldn’t stick around to help.
Shoving the last of the sandwich in my mouth, I washed it down with some Coke, then leaned back in my seat and closed my gritty eyes. They hurt so fucking much. I just needed to let them rest for a minute.
I jerked awake, not even sure what woke me. Rubbing my eyes, I shoved to my feet to get to work.
“You should have slept longer,” Delaney said.
“How long was I out?”
“Fifteen minutes. Not nearly long enough. You’re dead on your feet.”
“Too much to do.”
“Jeff!” Josie shouted, narrowing her eyes at the man. “What the hell are you doing?”
I spun around to find Jeff holding a dress up in front of him.
“What? I was just wondering what it’s like.”
“To wear a dress?” Josie asked.
“It seems too airy. How do you keep all your wobbly bits from spilling out?”
“It’s probably comfortable,” Michael said. “Think of all the times you wished you had a little more air down there.”
“Ball sweat,” Jeff nodded. “Do you think that’s why Scots wear kilts?”
“Yeah, because of ball sweat,” Michael rolled his eyes.
“Maybe we could get Ellie to sell kilts here.”
“She’s not selling kilts here,” I snapped. “It’s a boutique for women.”
“Yeah, and what’s that about? She’s cutting herself out of business by only catering to half the population. You should talk to her about that.”
“There’s a gentleman’s store right down the road. Go there.”
“I’m just saying, she could have a section right over here,” he said, jogging to the front of the store. “And it could be for specialty items for men.”
“Like kilts?” I questioned.
“Exactly! We could make them a trend over here. And they have those cool pouches in the front that hold all that shit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s like a bag, and you can put all kinds of shit in there. You know, because kilts don’t have pockets. So, you put your phone,wallet…chapstick for days when your lips crack. Hell, you could probably fit more than that inside.”
