Remember to Breathe (Book One of the True Desires Series) (8 page)

“Such an accurate description of what you're doing online in my name?” Allie retorts.

“Hey, new subject! Guess what?”

“What, Gina?”

“You have a date this Friday! For your birthday! Happy birthday!”

“What?”

“Actually this is the third one you've set up with him but the other two you've had to cancel. Long story. Anyhoo, he was getting kind of upset about that, understandably. So shame on you.”

“Gina!”

“But don't worry, he's super cute though and nice and he's got a good job. You promised you weren't going to flake out on him this time so that's why you told him he could pick you up at your house this Friday no matter what.”

“You gave him my address?”

“Yeah but don't worry. The site you met him on is super safe. Not just everyone can join. They even run background checks.”

“So when they ran their check on me did they find you under my skirt pulling the levers?” The line goes silent. “Gina?”

“I'm not letting you use your logic against me. And I also won't let you be alone on your birthday, dear. No way.”

“No. Tell him it's off. Tell him I moved. Gina, you can't be taking these liberties with my life anymore.”

“What's that? Hey I've got a call coming in. Talk soon. Smooches!”

Allie feels she has no choice but to call Kevin.
This has gone on long enough.

“I want you back this Friday. At home. Even if it's just for a few hours,” she tells Kevin after finally  reaching him.

“Cool.”

“ 'Cool'? Just like that? Four months without talking to me and all you can say is 'Cool' ?”

“ I was going to call but- figuring things out.”

“So what have you figured out?”

“Some adjustments. Hey, my battery is about to die and I lost my charger so-” Allie interrupts him.

“Isn't that why you always carry a spare? Are you sure I'm talking to Kevin? Kevin Carter? My husband the investment wizard? If he's there, could you put him on the line?”

“ You're cutting out,” Kevin says.

“ Okay just...just be here at seven,” Allie shouts.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah? Hello?”

The connection ends. Allie's return call goes directly to voice mail. Weird.  Allie forces a laugh, then calls Gina.

“It wasn't just the charger; it was his voice- what he said. Everything was just...off. I hope he's okay,” Allie says.

“Hm. Sounds like you were destined to be on a blind date either way.”

“I don't think he remembered that Friday's my birthday. But seeing him and getting back on track is way more important,” Allie says.

“I'll have my phone on if you need me, ” Gina says.

Friday

It's seventy five degrees under an impossibly blue sky with a gentle southern breeze; the perfect day for a birthday reunion with Kevin and to have on her favorite outfit- a pair of high and tight cutoff jean shorts and a white tank top.

Before stepping out of her car and into the grocery store parking lot, she cranes her neck to the back seat for a reminder that the day will only get better. In a pink and white shopping bag with pink tissue paper spilling out is a black lace mini dress with matching stockings and a tiny thong. The fitting room attendant having heard Allie's story, looked at her with genuine admiration. The dress would  have even the gayest of husbands thinking twice, she had said.

“I never said he was gay though, did I?” Allie asked.

“Oh, I didn't mean... Sorry.”

Checkout lane nine- the only open lane in the grocery store- is jammed. Just when Allie starts thinking about ditching her cart and driving to the nicer store near her home, her exit is blocked by several toddlers orbiting an acrid smelling man with a fruit basket and disposable diapers under his arms.
Why do I  still go out of my way to shop at this dump
?  Allie wonders. 
Habit, probably
. 

Yes,  Kevin's investment firm is-or was- a major investor in the struggling chain, so she'd normally think nothing of driving halfway across the city to shop here.  It was like getting paid to buy groceries. However, just before their split, Kevin was talking about selling the firm's stake.   Now, she doesn't know if the store  is still worth suffering for. She makes a mental note to ask him tonight.

At least the cashier is hot,
Allie thinks. He is tall and dark haired with chiseled features, a white dress shirt, a black tie and a brown apron like the meat counter workers wear.   And strangely familiar.

She meets the cashier's glance and her face goes pale. It's him. Nick. Or the ghost of Nick, maybe. Nick's hair was brown- this man's is black. He is about the same height as Nick but much leaner. He must weigh 150 pounds less and as far as she could tell, Nick never had any motivation to lose weight  Just to be sure it isn't him; she leans forward for a look at his name tag.  It says “Brian." A wave of relief washes over her. This isn't the first-time  something like this has happened. Nick had a good looking but common face. She smiles and breathes deeply, knowing that her uneasiness about the coming night with Kevin is the reason for her paranoia.

“And how are
you
today?” The clerk asks.  But Allie has slipped into a steamy daydream about  her reunion with Kevin. At the moment,  Allie is imagining it rough- a vision inspired by the presence of this cashier who resembles a better version of her former fiancee. She lets herself imagine being  taken  and pressed against a wall and bent over and fucked into oblivion, and she lets herself feel the disappointment of knowing that it most likely won't happen.

“I don't think she heard you,” the platinum blond ahead of her says to the cashier.

“ It's okay. She's probably just got the same malfunction as my receipt machine,” the cashier says. The woman cackles at this, startling Allie from her daydream.

Allie realizes she has been staring into the space in front of the cashier. “Oh, hi. Sorry,”  she says. She starts putting her groceries on the conveyor belt while stealing glances at him. 

The receipt machine seems to have given up.  The cashier picks it up, holds it to his ear, then whispers and pets it as though he's comforting a baby or a frightened animal. He sets it down. The machine wheezes and clicks back to life.

The woman in front of Allie squeals in approval.

“Praise Jesus!” fruit and diapers man exclaims. 

Allie smirks and rolls her eyes.

The cashier bows. While staring at  Allie out of the corner of his eye, he tells his new admirers that, just like a beautiful woman, a receipt machine must be stroked and complimented every now and then, or else it will become grouchy and just laze around, pretending to be dead.

This is weird. He even sounds like  a total dick bag, just like Nick
, she thinks. Allie wishes she had more groceries to put on the conveyor belt.  She pretends to be distracted by a tabloid with a headline about a woman who now weighs less than 100 pounds after having had a 500-pound  tumor removed.

The receipt has finally arrived. The clerk rips it and hands it to the blonde and wishes her a good day.  He's still staring at Allie but directly this time, calm and still. Allie's heart pounds. 
I already don't like him and yet...
He motions for her to lean in. She does and he whispers into her ear in a low tone:

“Look, before we go any further, we need to address the elephant in the room. I noticed you checking me out and I have to ask- are you-” Allie grimaces and interjects.

“Sorry but yes- I'm kind of married,” Allie says. His chauvinism and grandstanding have made rebuffing him easy. Until recently, she would have let him finish but now, flush with renewed hope for salvaging her marriage, she feels she must beat back advances at the earliest opportunity -especially from ones that look like former lovers she still fantasizes about from time to time. The last thing she wants is to place her fragile marriage at risk of being crushed, even if it makes her seem  like a puritanical bitch.

The clerk leans back and chuckles darkly. “ Good for you! I was just going to ask if you were the paper or plastic type. Let's use both. Protect the bag from your sweaty stuff with the plastic. It's important that we use protection, eh 'Kind of Married' Woman?"

“Allie, actually. And-” The cashier interrupts.

“Alley? This is a family store. Not the time or the place to try to lure me into an alley in the hope of having your way with me, now is it? I could have security remove you at the touch of a button, you know. ”

“No. Allie's my name. And just because you made these people believe you brought a receipt machine back to life by petting it doesn't give you the right to be an insufferable ass.”

“Ouch, she bites! How did you know I like to be bitten?”

Fruit and diapers man bursts into laughter. He has no teeth with which to bite anyone.

Allie notices the cashier's name tag and frowns. Reporting him to the manager would lead nowhere because he is...inexplicably...impossibly... the regional manager. Maybe she will mention him to Kevin tonight. Or maybe not. After all, it could get him fired. “Just hurry up, will you Brian Reagan, regional manager with three years of service who is working the checkout lane because he's probably short staffed in more ways than one.”

“Quite an accusation. A true lady would of course be ready and willing to let me to prove otherwise. Though you should know that I usually steer clear of Allies in alleys.”

“Good because it's not gonna happen. Not anywhere.”

“Good,” he says.

“Good,” Allie says.

“Good!” fruit and diapers man says.

Brian
grins while holding up a plastic bag with a rotund, smiling  cartoon pig in a vest and pork pie hat on it. Inside it are crispy, vaguely flesh-toned food products. Pork rinds. “We have a deal on these, you know. Buy one get one free and you've only got one. I'll have someone get you another bag right away.”

Allie shakes her head 'no'.

“No? What are you going to eat tonight in bed? Look, you and I both know that this bag won't even last you the whole car ride home,” he says.

“Oh no.” Allie says. But its too late. Allie has never eaten pork rinds, has no plans to eat them and has no idea how they got in her shopping cart other than she might have absently picked them out thinking they were some kind of potato chip. He's already on the loudspeaker.

“Marcus, please bring a bag of Fat Daddy brand pork rinds to checkout lane five so this lady will have something to eat in bed tonight.” He makes a show of looking Allie up and down, sizing her up. “Make that an extra large bag, please.”  It seems the whole store is looking at them, snickering. Allie looks around for Kevin, expecting this to be part of what he had in mind, but Kevin is nowhere to be seen.

I'm definitely telling Kevin about this jackass.

“Them is good eatin! I'll eat 'em if you don't want 'em!” Diapers and fruit man says, his voice as loaded with sincerity as his personal space is with old cigarette odors.

“Give them to the gentleman behind me, please. Both of them.”

“Atta girl,” the man says as a toddler latches onto his belt loops.