Page 18 of Guarded Hearts
Alyssa
Istood in the grocery store checkout line and redid my mental math. What was the state tax here? I’d tried to look it up, but my phone battery died before the page loaded.
In my wallet was my last ten dollars before I got paid tomorrow. In my hands were a box of tampons, two chocolate bars, and a bag of apples. If I did my math right, I’d have just enough.
Now that I was at the checkout, I questioned whether I could have waited one more day. Did I need all of this? None of these were necessities for today. The opportunity to shop at an actual grocery store was a luxury, and I enjoyed looking around to see how the store was organized, what was a novelty and what was common.
As everyone in line stepped forward, I rocked back on my heel and considered putting the chocolate bars back. What if I didn’t have enough? My back brushed against someone else, and I glanced over my shoulder, an apology at the forefront of my mind, and froze. “Oh,” I said. “Hi.”
Of course Pasha would be at the grocery store in this two-bit town Mia had added at the last minute. TheMending HeartsTour was promoted as a four-corners-of-America tour, but in reality, Mia was skimming the edge of the country. This was our only interior performance, andI suspected they’d added it to satisfy her hardcore Midwest fans who stirred up a social media storm when they felt left out of the party.
“Hello,” Pasha said with a nod, the corners of his lips tipping up with the hint of a smile.
Warmth spread unbidden in me. Why was that acknowledgment, the hint he might be happy to see me, thrilling? Tension sprung up between us. We’d spent the last week doing extra rehearsals, squeezing them in between his guarding shifts. Our sessions were going well as long as I didn’t come into any physical contact with him. I could demonstrate, give him verbal instructions, pass him an iPad for videos of other dancers breaking down the steps, but there was no more shadowing, no more rough hands on my hips.
I glanced in his basket. Enough protein bars to feed a large bear and some chocolate milk, which I’d noticed was on sale, but it hadn’t been a necessity with the little money I had.
When it was my turn, I stacked my items on the conveyor belt, silently cursing my large box of super-absorbent tampons. I couldn’t remember the last time I was embarrassed about my period, but right now, with him in line behind me, so big and so silent, I wanted to throw the box down the aisle and pretend I wasn’t really a woman.
“Eleven dollars and eighty-five cents,” the cashier said. “Did you want a bag? It’s an extra charge.”
“No bag,” I mumbled as I dug out my ten dollars and sent up a silent prayer that I had enough loose change to complete the transaction. After I’d emptied my wallet and searched the bottom of my purse, I eyed my items. My cheeks were on fire. I was over a dollar short. The chocolate. I’d sacrifice the chocolate.
From behind me, two dollars were thrust toward the cashier. “Here.” Pasha’s voice was gruff.
The cashier snatched up the bills before I had a chance to protest. Using my hair as a shield, I mumbled, “Thank you.” I left the change for him and gathered my items, hurrying out the automatic door into the waiting warmth.
Once I was outside, I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting the summer breeze wash over me.So embarrassing. The last few days before I was paid were tense every month, a balancing act between my wants and needs.
With a sigh, I headed down the street toward the venue and hotel, which was almost two miles away, just beyond the town limits. For expediency, and since it was a stripped-down show, the buses had been left behind in favor of the private plane. We’d all piled on, and a choreographer was showing up this afternoon to modify our stage show for the smaller space. The pressure to perform had never bothered me, and the chance to learn some new moves was a jolt of caffeine after months of the decaffeinated routine.
I adjusted the items in my hands, wishing I’d been able to afford a bag. An awkward walk back wasn’t on my list of fun things to do today. Tomorrow, I’d have to bring two dollars to my dance session with Pasha. Another less-than-fun thing to add to my to-do list.
Beside me, a black car appeared in my peripheral vision and then rolled along, keeping pace. Men of all ages often tried to get my attention, so I faced forward and ignored the car. I wasn’t in the mood today to rebuff someone or to play nice. Were leggings and a tank topthatsexy?
“Alyssa,” Pasha called.
His voice startled me, and I had to juggle the items in my hands to keep from dropping something. If I’d had a spare hand, I’d have clutched my chest. He hadn’t scared me, exactly. I knew someone was following, but he so rarely said my name, as though he avoided using it, hearing his accent dig into the syllables was an electrical shock.
“It’s a long walk back. Get in.”
I shifted the apples higher into my arms.No, thanks. That was all I needed to say, and I was sure he’d drive on. He wasn’t the type to push an issue, to force his company on anyone.
“Um,” I said, turning to check out his fancy black BMW. Was it a rental? Had Mia rented it for him? Why did their closeness grate on me so much? “That’d be great. Thanks.”
As I climbed into the passenger seat, I arranged my items on the floor to block the tampon box. Why did I care if he saw it? Childish.Stop caring!“I’ll get you the money tomorrow. Thanks for that.”
His hands clenched around the steering wheel. “No, no, no. No need.”
“I get paid tomorrow. I mean, you probably get paid tomorrow, so you know that…”
A frown sprouted on his face. He glanced at me and then focused on the road again. A question grew between us. I didn’t need to invite him into my confidence, and I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone other than Mia to know how I’d been deceived.
“What are you wondering? I can feel a question coming,” I said.
He grimaced. “Does Mia—does she not pay you well?”
Heat rose to my cheeks again. I should have known this would be the question. Mia paid quite well, and her promptness in paying was one of the reasons I targeted her for another tour. There were no forgotten checks, no bounced payments, no late checks cut. I hadn’t been sure if itwould be the same without Laura’s rigidness, but the tour was still tight, well-run.
