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“Are you coming in?” Remi asks, a little edgy.
“Worried about being seen with me?”
“No! Only…” She flushes. “Rhonda’s not exactly a fan. But I don’t care, I want you to come in! And anyway, I know you can handle yourself.”
“I’m used to it.”
I push open the door, the bell jingling overhead.
Cat-eye Lady looks even more irritated at my second appearance, especially when she sees that Remi and I are together. I close the umbrella and hang it over my arm, following Remi down the aisles as she fills a cart with supplies.
“What’s that for?” I ask when she pauses at a selection of long, thin teak slats.
“This?” She looks slightly embarrassed. “Just a little side project. If I ever have time.”
“Good idea.” I nod solemnly. “You should try to keep busy.”
Remi laughs. “Sometimes I’m not too tired in the evenings.”
“To do what?” I press.
“I…like to build furniture,” Remi says, as if it’s something shameful.
“What kind of furniture?”
“Whatever comes in my head…sometimes it’s for myself, like a huge cushy chair for reading, with a bookshelf built into the side…sometimes it’s something crazy, a table that looks like a sculpture or a desk with a bunch of secret drawers…I don’t make any money,” she hastens to add.
“I want to see it when you’re done.”
“I don’t even know what this will be yet.” Remi strokes her fingers down the dark grain. “I just like the color of the wood.”
“That’s why I saidshow me when you’re done.I can see you haven’t gotten far yet.”
Remi snorts, piling the slats into the cart.
When she can’t fit anything else, I wheel the lot up to the register.
“Oh, shit,” Remi says. “I forgot painting tape.”
“Run back and grab it,” I say as Cat-eye Lady starts scanning. According to her name tag, Cat-eye Lady is the infamous Rhonda. I could have guessed from the stink eye.
When Remi disappears amongst the aisles, the frostiness at the register reaches sub-zero temperatures. I’m hoping Rhonda will keep her lip zipped, but she doesn’t look the type to stick to the silent treatment.
Sure enough, before she’s halfway through scanning items, she barks out a highly unfriendly, “Haven’t seenyouin here before.”
“I’ve been missing out,” I say, averting my eyes from a display ofFresh, Raw bait!right next to the till.
“Humph!” Rhonda snatches up her scanner so she can laser the barcodes with maximum aggression. She’s firing that thing like a taser gun, glaring at me over the rim of her glasses.
“Four hundred and twenty-eight dollars and sixty-four cents,” she snaps at last.
It felt like it took about four hundred and twenty-eight minutes and sixty-four seconds. Remi still hasn’t returned, so I swipe my card.
When she comes jogging up a moment later, tape in hand, Rhonda only charges her $4.78.
“What about—“
“Already got it.” I push the cart toward the exit.
