I wrinkle my nose and breathe into my hand to try to smell my breath. It seems fine to me.
She leans on me for leverage. “Try to pull on three. One, two, three!”
Nothing happens. She repositions herself and places one foot on the toilet for support. “Now listen here, when I say three, we both gonna twist and pull.”
The bathroom door opens and the woman from the front register walks in. Annie and I both turn and stare at her. Her mouth drops open.
“Don’t you know how to knock? Can’t you see we busy?”
She pivots on her heel.
“Okay, on three,” Annie says.
I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous we must have looked and how quickly she walked away. Does Annie do this thing a lot?
“Oh, now you wanna laugh? I’m not supposed to laugh, but now you gonna start?”
“Just say three, Annie.”
“One, two, three!”
We both almost fall to floor as my foot pops out of the toilet. My shoe is still lodged inside.
Annie stares at the tongs in her hand. “Imagine what they could do to a salad.”
My leg is soaked and my sock is dirty. I want to hurl. I remove the basket from my leg and grab the tongs from Annie’s hand to remove my sock. It only takes me a moment to free my shoe, but I know I never want to see them again.
“Now what am I supposed to do?”
“Stop your whining. I’ll be right back.”
I hobble over to the sink and immediately remove my jeans. I begin the process of washing my leg with the hand soap. I wonder if these jeans are even salvageable.
Annie returns with flip-flops and a pair of scissors. “I got you pink ’cause you like girly shit.”
She picks up my jeans.
“Wait! What are you doing?” I shout.
“You wanna walk through the store in your skivvies?”
“My what?”
“Your . . .” Her head turns to the side to study my thong. Can I be any more uncomfortable?
“If you want to walk out of here in your dental floss, then that’s up to you, but I got work to do. Am I cutting or not?”
My chest feels heavy as I wave at her. “Cutting.”
She starts to work on the material. “These are some of the worst scissors I’ve ever seen in my life. I bet they couldn’t cut a piece of paper if they tried.”
I turn my head away. I can’t watch her destroy my favorite jeans. I sniff and rub my nose.
“Oh, now stop making such a fuss. You know what I always say, if life hands you lemons—”
“Let me guess. You make lemonade.”
She stops cutting and eyeballs me. “Didn’t your momma ever teach you it’s rude to interrupt? Have some manners. Now I got to start all over.” She shakes her head. Can she be any worse?
“If life gives you lemons, you cut ’em in half and squeeze ’em in people’s eyes so they can’t see you coming.”
I snort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Oh, child. Don’t you know nothin’? Life is hard. Bad things happen. Now you can take the bad and live with it, or you can use the bad as a way to build again. Show that bad it doesn’t own you. You come back strong. You find a way to make life work.”
She hands me my jeans. “Now, put on some stinkin’ clothes. You’re making me feel like I got something in my teeth and need to floss.” Annie turns her back to me and I try not to smile.
I pull on my new jean shorts. They’re actually kind of cute in a homemade sort of way. They show off my thigh muscles. I slide on my pink flip-flops and toss my shoes in the broken waste paper basket.
Annie turns around and holds out her hand. “Salad tongs, flip-flops, and scissors. That’s three dollars and change. Pay up.”
I’m fairly certain I’ve been handed an entire bag of lemons in the form of Annie McClintonuck. I guess I need to figure out how to squeeze them in her eyes. I refuse to admit to myself that even with all her flaws, she’s smart and funny. I might like her a little bit. No, it can’t be. I won’t let her grow on me. I won’t.
ANNIE POUNDS ON MY window and I’m startled awake. I unlock the door and move my dollar purchases to the back seat. She wipes off the seat and hesitantly climbs inside. After I left the bathroom, I finished my shopping and paid for all my things, including the salad tongs I threw in the garbage as I left.
I ate a can of chips and a bag of gummy worms before I dozed off in my car. Looks like Annie is ready to go home. Stretching my arms in front of me, I yawn and put the car in drive.
Annie glances at my back seat mess and shakes her head. “You know it wouldn’t take long to clean it.”
“I know.”
“Why do you throw all your crap back there? Don’t you have garbage cans where you live?”
“It’s really bothering you, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“That’s how you gonna play, huh? All right, then. I guess I won’t share my review idea then.” She crosses her arms and leans back into the seat.
My head jerks to look at her. “You have a review for me?”
“I might have had one if your car were clean.”
“I’m paying you one hundred dollars a day for information on your review process and now you’re telling me in addition to that money, I also have to clean my car?”
“All I’m saying is that maybe I’d think more clearly if I didn’t worry you murdered someone and hid the body under that trash.”
Pulling the car in front of her home, I turn off the ignition and glance behind me at my back seat. “If I clean my car, I get a review?”
She shrugs before strolling toward her house.
I open my car door and shout, “I’m going to need a garbage bag!”
Her front door opens and she throws out a box of trash bags before she closes the door.
I spend the next hour cleaning my entire car. I find three bottles of nail polish I forgot I had, two pairs of boots, a sweater, a half-eaten turkey sandwich that grew mold, two cell phone chargers I thought I’d lost, and the notebook I used last year to write down all the rejected ideas I presented to Darla. I fill up two big bags and toss them in Annie’s bin before wandering back into her house, exhausted but proud.
“Okay, it’s done. Want to see?”
Annie’s eyes are closed and she’s slumped in her chair in front of the TV. I stand there for a few minutes, watching her cautiously. Is she breathing? Her chest isn’t moving, so I place a finger under her nose. When I feel hot air, I’m reminded she’s full of it.
Slightly relieved my article subject hasn’t gone to hell, I plop down on her couch. Now what am I supposed to do? Maybe I should wake her. I watch television mindlessly. I’m annoyed. Once again, Annie has given me another useless day.
“Tonight at ten . . . There could be spyware on your computer. Find out how hackers gain access to your files without your knowledge.”
I sit up a little straighter in my seat. That news clip just gave me an idea. I wonder if I can get into Annie’s computer while she’s asleep. I mean, she did promise me a review if I cleaned out my car. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind if I helped myself while she napped. Annie begins to snore and I’m convinced she’s in such a deep sleep it’s definitely in my best interest to not wake her.
I tiptoe down the hall. I’m not sure why I’m being quiet all of the sudden. I probably could scream bloody murder and she wouldn’t notice. But there’s something about doing something you’re not supposed to do that makes you think you need to be a quiet little mouse.
As soon as I get to her office, I peek around the corner one more time to see if she’s coming before I slightly close the door. It takes me a few minutes to figure out how to turn on her computer. I’ve never actually used one this old before. I feel like it belongs in a museum.
It begins to churn and I’m reminded just how slow it is. Sitting there makes me feel nervous and now I have to pee. I squeeze
my knees together tightly. There’s no way I’m making any sounds to wake her. Assuming she fell asleep right after we got home and she takes a daily two-hour nap, like yesterday, I should still have an hour.
Rolling my neck until it cracks, I realize how tense I am. I need to get better at this spy stuff. I stare at the blue screen as it continues its ridiculous process. Pushing up from the seat, I open the door slightly and listen for the wood cutter. Sure enough, she’s still sawing away.
This is crazy. It has to have been like ten minutes and it’s still loading. As I sit back down, my knee hits a drawer. “Fuck,” I whisper as I rub it. I glance at it again. “Well, hello there. What secrets do you keep?”
It’s not locked, but it’s almost sealed shut. As I try to pull on it, I wonder if she’s ever even used it. On my third try, it finally gives an inch. I yank it open and it squeaks. I cringe and pause to listen for footsteps. I breathe deeply when I still hear her snores.
There are a bunch of cards piled up inside and it smells musty and old. I call that smell “Eau de Annie.” I chuckle to myself at the thought.
I grab a handful and start flipping through them.
“I used to think love was gift I’d never receive until the day you walked into my life. I didn’t know a heart could feel so much so soon. My sun shines brighter, my grass looks greener, my sky is bright. You are the missing piece I never knew I needed. You’ve changed my world.” I flip the card open. “I love you.”
It’s blank inside. No signature, just a plain card. It’s beautiful, but damn. I was hoping someone actually gave it to her. I open another and another. All beautiful cards. Some almost bring a tear to my eye, but none of them have ever been used. I wonder if Annie is a romantic. Why would she have all these cards about love that she never sent?
The screen suddenly whirrs to life. I grab all the cards and quickly stuff them back in the drawer. Moving the mouse, a password box pops up. Shit. I tap my bottom lip. What would Annie use as a password? I type in Stupid. When that doesn’t work I try Rhode. That was probably a dumb idea. I stare around the room, trying to think like Annie. I type hate. That doesn’t work either. A warning message appears. Dammit! I quickly shut it down.
I thought that was my in. Now what am I going to do? I need to find Annie’s password and soon. Something tells me it’s the only way to get what I need. Annie is going down one way or another.
After the computer debacle I decide to continue snooping. Annie’s still fast asleep, so I take my chances and sift through her mail in the kitchen. Every bill is opened and folded into a neat pile. Electricity, gas, insurance . . . boring. Then I see a bill for flowers. It’s from a local place and she spent a chunk of change on them. Who in the hell is she sending flowers to and why would someone so in need of money waste so much on something so frivolous?
I flip to the next piece of mail. It’s not opened yet. It’s from a financial place. I wonder if it’s a past due notice.
“What do you think you’re doin’?”
Spinning quickly to the sound of her voice, I drop all her mail on the floor.
She sucks her bottom lip into her mouth and I feel like I can see her heart pounding in her chest.
“I was . . .” Oh shit, think, Joss. “I was looking for the review you said you had for me.”
“In my mail? You think I’m dumb? You were going through my things. See anything good?” She places her hands on her hips and I immediately feel like I got called to the principal’s office for cheating. She stares from my eyes to the mail scattered on the floor.
I bend over to gather it and she shouts, “Don’t touch it. That’s mine.”
She rushes over and starts picking up every piece and reorganizing it. My chest hurts. I feel awful.
She pauses at the bill for flowers and I hear her make that cracking noise in her mouth. “You need to go.”
“Annie, I’m sorry. I was just bored. I shouldn’t have touched your mail.”
“I can’t do this. Not today. You need to leave.”
“But . . . I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I don’t want you here. I don’t want to do this anymore. You is a sneak and a liar. I don’t like you. Now get outta my house!” Her voice shrills and I’m frightened. Taking a step back, I decide maybe I should leave before she kills me.
I rush toward the front door and grab my duffle bag. Panic sets in as I realize I may never get what I came here for. I turn to face her. “But what about the review you promised me?”
The responding look on her face causes me to bolt to my car. That was a really dumb move. I might have blown the whole thing.
ONCE I GET TO my car and hear her front door slam, I start to pace and pick at my nail polish. I really fucked up. I lean on my door and try to think. How can I make this right?
He clears his throat and that’s when I realize I’m not alone.
His eyes travel from my incredibly short shorts to my pink flip-flops and then up to my worried expression. I like the way he’s looking at me. Maybe I should wear my new shorts every day.
“Are you okay?”
I don’t know why, but I rush to him. His arms encase me as I fly into them. He’s dirty today. He must have been working outside. I don’t care.
“Whoa! What’s going on?” His hands frame my cheeks as he gently pulls me away to look into my eyes.
“I’ve had the worst day ever.”
He doesn’t say another word. He wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. His hand gently rubs my back. He’s magical and just what I need. A hug from a man is way different than a sister or friend hug. There’s something about strong arms around you that makes the world seem safer. There’s something about these arms that are better than anything else in the world right now.
When I remember we literally just met and I’m about to uncharacteristically dry hump his leg, I pull away. I suddenly feel awkward about the whole thing. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” he asks as I take a step back.
“For charging you like that. We barely know each other.”
“I actually thought it was perfect. You felt good up against me.”
My eyes light up and I grin. “You know, I thought you were shy, but you’re not. Are you?”
His head teeters. “I may be a bit shy at times.” He pinches his fingers together briefly. “But I’ll tell you what. When a hot girl jumps into my arms, I know well enough to let her stay there as long as she wants.”
Why is he so cute and perfect? Even with his cap on backward and his sweaty shirt and filthy clothes, I’d still eat him alive. What’s wrong with me? Maybe it’s been too long. “You think I’m hot?” I ask, my smile returning.
He shakes his head. “Nice shorts.”
“Annie made them for me. Annie . . .” I gaze around Rhode and back at her house to look for her.
“Do you want to tell me what happened? You sounded frantic earlier and never called me back. I was worried about you. Then I get home and see you wearing a path in the street. Something big must have gone down. What’s got you so upset?”
I close my eyes and shake my head. “It’s been a ridiculous day.”
He gazes into my eyes, then down at his clothes. “I’m a mess.” Turning his head to his house, he says, “Would you like to come inside?”
“Really?” Forgetting about Annie for a while is just what I need.
His white teeth shine out on his dirty face. “I asked, didn’t I?”
“All right, but I’m going to move my car in front of your house, if that’s okay. I’m fairly certain Annie already called the police on me.”
“Now I really want to know what’s going on. I’ll leave the front door unlocked. Come inside when you’re finished. I need to clean up a bit.”
As he walks back to his house, I can’t help but watch him. How is this man single?
After I move my car, fluff my hair, and chew a piece of gum, I open his front door.
The second I
enter, I find myself smiling from ear to ear. There are stacks of old vinyl records in the corner of his living room and a turntable on top of an odd looking stand with two gigantic speakers and some kind of receiver. I’m pretty sure my grandparents used to have something like it when I was younger. A dark brown leather chair faces it and I can picture him sitting there listening to music. An old guitar is propped up in the opposite corner. I wonder if he plays.
Walking toward the records, I lean forward, curious to see what kind of music he likes. I see Bob Dylan, The Doors, Chicago, and Bon Jovi. He must like the classics. It fits him. He seems like an old soul. As much as I’d like to bend down and look through them, I decide against it. My nosiness already pissed off Annie. I don’t want to alienate Rhode too.
His house is different from Annie’s. It’s not only the layout, but also his style. He’s old school with modern flare. I don’t know how else to describe it, but I like it. I like him.
After a few minutes, a freshly showered Rhode turns the corner. He’s wearing a white T-shirt and faded jeans that sit on his waist like they were made for him. His hair is wet and he’s drying it with a towel.
“Sorry about that. Can I get you something to drink?”
“What do you have?”
He motions with his head for me to follow him, so I do. Tossing the towel on a chair, he opens the fridge. He leans down to look inside. “I have beer, beer, and beer. Any of those sound good?”
“Hmm . . .” I place my finger on my lips like I’m thinking. “I’ll take a beer.”
He smiles, pops the cap, and hands me a bottle. I take a really long drink. He seems entertained.
He points to his left to a room off the kitchen with a large TV and a couple of couches. “Want to sit down?”
I nod. I remove my flip-flops and curl my legs under myself. He clears his throat in what almost sounds like a moan.
He sits on the opposite couch. He’s really far away.
“Do you play guitar?”
“I strum chords and pretend I play,” he says with a smile.
“So you’re a vinyl man?”
“I like the way it sounds. There’s something about the static of the needle hitting a record that I find exciting.”
Angry Annie Page 7