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jimbob
“Hey there, Marty,”I say with a broad smile and a wave. I set down my coffee that my mom just made me and roll the cart over to his register with all the bags of animal food stacked on it.
“Got lots of purchases today,” Marty says to me, running a hand across his graying mustache, and I nod.
“Lots of hungry animals. They just gobble it up. Especially the kitten and mini pigs.” I can’t help smiling when I talk about animals. They’re just fun. How can people not like them? Don’t know. But I sure don’t trust humans that don’t. Probably evil souls. Demons. Literal poop heads.
Just as I think that, the kitten pokes her head out from the front pocket of my overalls and meows loudly. I snort a small laugh and pet her head. Silly little McMuffin. Always gotta get a word in edge-wise. She’s my little buddy though. Doesn’t like it when I go anyplace without her. A bit of codependency, I think. Might be a bit toxic, but I don’t mind it.
“She heard me talking about food,” I say and then pull my wallet out to pay as Marty continues scanning the stack of feed.
“Want me to have Braxton help you out with this haul?”
Before I can politely decline because that guy hates my guts for some reason, Marty is already calling him on the walkie-talkie.
“Ah, Marty, you don’t need to call him. I can do it,” I say, feeling suddenly nervous. I don’t know how to deal with people who don’t like me. I’m the nicest guy.
The best. I mean really. I wouldn’t hurt a fly, but this guy just doesn’t like me. He hasn’t since day one, and I have no idea why.
The friendly man just waves me off, clearly not understanding that Braxton is not a Jimbob fan. Not at all. “Braxton needs somethin’ to do. He’s just fiddling around with the website he’s making us. It’s no worry.”
I think it might be a worry, and I don’t think that website design is something people just fiddle around with, but I let it go because as soon as I’ve paid, Braxton wanders up. His dark, tousled hair, all-black attire, and facial piercings stand out in this colorful town. He’s like a shadow in the summer, just dark and brooding.
“What?” he asks as his eyes slide across my form, and I shift on my feet. I’m taller than him by a few inches, but what really makes us different is my bulk. I think I’m twice as wide as he is. I could easily lift him up and carry him around.
Not that I’m thinking about that.
But I just did, so…
I mean, it would be fun to pull him into my arms if I didn’t think he’d likely go feral. Kicking and screaming. Probably scratch the hell out of me. Like an angry cat.
McMuffin is still peeking out from my pocket and seems to eye Braxton, who just glowers at her too, his lip ring flashing with the reflection of overhead lights.
Seems he doesn’t like anyone around here.
I’d really like to know how he became so grumpy. But see, like I was thinking earlier, he doesn’t seem to like animals—so Braxton can’t be trusted. A demon, this one. Probably.
Not a sex demon though. Just an ordinary one.
“Hi there. Um, I told Marty I can do it,” I say, and Braxton seems to stiffen.
“You don’t think I can manage?”
I frown and shake my head. “No. I didn’t say that…”
“Yeah, well I can. I might not be as big as you, but I can fucking do it,” he says and moves past me, grunting slightly when he grabs on to the flatbed cart and pulls it outside toward my truck. I have to hand it to him, he’s a lot stronger than I gave him credit for.
McMuffin looks at me, and I pat her head, whispering, “Just between you and me, I think he hates me.”
“I don’t hate you,” Braxton mutters and then pulls my truck bed open, reaching down and helping me haul all the feed inside.
“I just don’t like your face,” he adds with a grunt, and I cock my head at him.
That catches me off guard. No one has ever said anything about my face before. I think my face is just fine. “What’s wrong with my face?”
