Page 41 of Story of My Life
“You sell bait, inflatable rafts, groceries,andwine?” Hazel asked me as she jogged past with the cart. Melvin trotted after her.
I shrugged and pretended I was fascinated by the cash in the register drawer.
They returned to the counter ten minutes to closing with a cart so full that Hazel was using both hands to hold the bottles of wine in place while Zoey steered. Melvin helped by nosing Zoey in the ass every other step like he was herding her.
Great. Now I had to actually ring everything up. I was the slowest typer in the family, which meant we were going to be here forever. I should have listened to Laura and voted with her for the updated register with the barcode scanner.
Grumbling, I snapped open a few reusable tote bags without asking because they seemed like reusable tote people and I might as well charge them extra for my inconvenience.
They began to unload their cart, filling the entire six feet of counter with stuff. This was not the shopping haul of someone who was headed back to the city tomorrow. This was the haul of someone who thought they were sticking around for a while.
“You sell coffee?” Hazel asked, eyeing the drink menu on the chalkboard behind me while I plugged in the barcode of two six-packs of mini Wild Cherry Pepsi.
“Nope,” I said, moving on to the boxes of oatmeal.
“Then what’s with the menu and the espresso machine?” She gestured at the stainless-steel monster on the counter behind me.
My fingers mashed the wrong keys, and I had to start over. “My sister is the only one who knows how to run it. Now if you can stop talking so I can concentrate…”
“Bet she knows how to ring people out faster too,” Zoey muttered.
I stopped what I was doing mid-barcode. “You think you can do better?” A toddler during a nap could do better, but it had been a long fucking day.
“No, of course not.” Hazel placated.
“Yes,” Zoey insisted.
“Are you trying to poke the bear?” Hazel asked her friend.
“I’m trying to get us out of here to get you some dinner before you turn into Hangry Hazel. At this rate, we’ll still be here until lunchtime tomorrow. Step aside, Hot Dog Fingers,” Zoey said, rounding the counter.
“Might as well do what she says,” Hazel warned me. “It’s just easier.”
“How bad is Hangry Hazel?” I asked, taking a step back from the register.
“Not bad,” Hazel said.
“Horrible,” Zoey corrected. She picked up a box of oatmeal with one hand as the fingers of her other flew over the number pad.
“How are you at bagging?” Hazel asked as Zoey slid a carton of eggs, a jug of milk, and two packs of bacon my way.
“Better than typing,” I said and shoved the eggs and milk into a bag.
Hazel rounded the counter and pulled the eggs back out. “I’ll just…give you a hand.”
I grunted and made room for her.
“Do you usually work here?” Hazel asked over thetip-tapof her friend’s nails on the register.
“I fill in when necessary. We all do,” I hedged.
She hummed and double-bagged the cans of soup.
“What?” I demanded defensively.
She shrugged. “I’m just hoping you’re a better contractor than you are store employee.”
I glared at her. “Yeah? Well, I hope you’re a better councilwoman than driver.”
