Page 3 of Zombie's Howl-O-Ween
It was like he was programmed to do and say certain things during specific situations. I supposed it had to do with seeing him differently from others.
Seriously, I had to wonder how he could be in a motorcycle club. How exactly did he contribute?
“Thanks,” I replied and put the bill into the draw and removed three dollars for my tip, leaving the penny in the till. “Have a nice day.” I turned around to go see if my dad needed help.
When I didn’t hear the bell jingle, I peered over my shoulder. Brandon was still at the counter.Odd.
“Did you need something else?” I turned around to face him. He wasn’t the easiest person to read, so I wasn’t sure if he was okay or not. “Brandon? Was there something else you wanted to get?”
“No.”
Of course, a-single-word reply.
If I didn’t feel compassion for his awkward social skills, he would frustrate the crap out of me. I went to counter and stood in front of him and waited patiently to find out why he hadn’t left.
Brandon Adams was tall, lean and muscular. Not tall like a basketball player but I’d guess five eleven at the very least. Clean shaven and not at all like some of the other bikers in town. He had dirty blond hair and intense icy-blue eyes.
And boy was he a hottie, just like the habanero peppers we put in our spicy relish. I’d learned once how potent those little things were after making a batch of our secret relish.
Somehow, I’d gotten capsaicin oil from the pepper on my finger. We always wore food-safe gloves when we prepped andmade sandwiches. It could have been when I was cleaning up afterward, I really couldn’t recall.
But I’d found out the hard way that night in the shower. My lady parts had ignited into a wild bonfire, and I’d bet Brandon could do the same under my bed sheets.
As it was, he was setting off little sparks in me right now. I sensed I’d be changed forever if he’d just give us a chance. I so desperately wanted to find out, but doubted it would ever happen.
“Why don’t you have decorations in here?” His question surprised me. Was he serious?
Halloween was in two days, and he’d been in and out all month, and hadn’t mentioned anything about our lack of decorations.
“Brandon, we never decorate for any holiday. Papa doesn’t like it.” I stared at him perplexed. Was he experiencing a malfunction or something? Had I stressed him to the point of not knowing what to do? If yes, I would be absolutely mortified. Should have listened to my mom and kept my mouth shut.
“Oh.”
“Oh? You’ve come almost daily for years. Why would you think—”
“I don’t know,” he snapped, cutting me off.
“Sorry.” I grimaced and rolled my lips into my mouth.
Brandon whipped around on his boot heel and stormed out of the building, kicking up dirt and leaves like a blustery fall day.
What the heck just happened?
2
Zombie
I parked my Harley outside of The Bullet, feeling like a failure with Trixie. Yeah, I knew her name, though I never used it when I went into Schafer’s Deli.
Believe me. I’d practiced sayingTrixiemany times while I stared at myself in the bathroom mirror, but her name would not leave my mouth in her presence.
Lynx was going to tease me after he heard how it went today; I just knew it.
Why was I such an idiot with this chick? The club girls were easy to be with but then maybe it was because they kept their mouths shut like I told them to do.
I’d never been a talker. For as long as I could remember, there’d been few people I felt comfortable with. Mostly just my folks and a classmate or two. My whole life, twenty-seven years, I’d been a loner. The weirdo nobody understood or wanted to get to know.
Then one random day, Lynx approached me when I was eating dinner in The Bullet. He’d said, “Every Tuesday and Friday you’re here and you order the same thing. You use up a pile of napkins and don’t meet up with anyone. What’s up with that?”
