Paper or Plastic

by Vivi Barnes

  Unfazed by the total, the lady nodded and opened up the binder. Her fingers were quick as they flipped through the pages, pulling out stacks of coupons from different plastic card slots and stacking them across the counter. She was so fast that I was reminded of the poker competitions on TV that my dad liked to watch. She dealt me the first stack.

  I’d processed a few coupons before, of course, but not this many. I scanned the first one for a bottle of Windex under the woman’s steely gaze, and the deductions commenced. No problem. The second, the third, the… Good Lord, how many coupons did she have for Windex, anyway?

  I was handed the next stack for juice boxes and started scanning. I couldn’t help it—maybe it was because of the sheer number of coupons or maybe I was just getting loopy, but I got the giggles.

  “Something funny?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “No, ma’am.” I tried to fix my face in a serious expression as I continued scanning the coupons and held out my hand for the next stack. The coupons for crackers scanned until they stopped beeping midway through, so I took a look at the display.

  “Oh, these were buy-one, get-one, so I don’t think you can use more than one coupon on these.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  I stared at her. “Um, no ma’am, I don’t think you can.”

  Without blinking and almost without looking, the woman reached into the back of her binder and slid stapled pages toward me.

  “What’s this?” I asked.

  “The store’s coupon policy. Read it.”

  I couldn’t help it. I blurted out, “You carry around the coupon policy for this place?”

  The woman glared at me. “Look, honey, why don’t you call your manager for help. I don’t have time for childishness.” Her tone couldn’t be any snippier.

  Don’t say anything. Don’t say anything. I had to repeat it over and over in my head as I jabbed the number for the manager’s office.

  “Can I help you?” Noah’s voice sounded behind me.

  I slammed the phone down and whipped around. His eyes were amused. “How long have you been standing here?”

  “A while.” His smile grew. He was enjoying this way too much. He leaned in so only I could hear him say, “Actually, you did pretty well. I thought you’d have given up long before now.”

  I fought an urge to mash the coupons into his grinning face. “She wants to use coupons on all the buy-one, get-one things.”

  “Oh, that’s fine,” he said, smiling warmly at the woman. He pressed some keys and tried to show me how to process the additional coupons, but I was fuming too much to pay attention. It was only picturing how many ways one could murder someone with a stack of coupons that kept me from flinging them at him. At one point, he stepped back to let me continue, but now he was standing over my shoulder, watching me.

  It was unsettling, to say the least. And my stupid hands were shaking, though whether from irritation or nerves I wasn’t sure.

  After a couple more screw-ups that Noah had to step in and assist with, much to the coupon diva’s obvious annoyance, I finally finished. “Your total is $37.40,” I said, so annoyed at this point that I couldn’t muster up the proper enthusiasm at her ridiculous savings.

  She thrust a fifty at me and I returned her change.

  “What are you, stupid? You gave me a five. You’re supposed to give me a ten,” Coupon Cow snapped at me, waving the bill in front of my face.

  I snatched it and jammed my fist on the button to open the cashbox. “Here.”

  She ripped the bill from me and frowned at Noah, shaking her head and clicking her tongue. He didn’t respond. Larry and Jake, who had been helping bag the groceries, each grabbed a cart and helped her husband wheel them out. The woman grabbed her binder and followed, pausing as she passed us.

  “You need to reconsider hiring teenagers,” she said to Noah, jerking her head toward me. Clearly she missed that he was also a member of the Horrible Teenagers Club. “No manners whatsoever.”

  I shouldn’t have let her get to me, but my body was shaking with anger. I was about to snap back when I felt warm fingers slide around my wrist, stopping me. Noah was still facing the woman, but his hand was behind his back, holding me still. The shock of his touch dissolved my retort and sent an unexpected ripple of pleasure down my spine.

  “She’s new, yes,” Noah said politely. “And she is still learning. But she’s also used to dealing with customers who aren’t quite so high maintenance.”

  The woman’s jaw opened and shut as her eyes dropped to his nametag. She didn’t say anything, though. My jaw also dropped. I never would’ve expected calm, professional Noah to be rude to a customer.

  We watched the woman follow her caravan of carts toward the exit. Noah still had a gentle hold of my wrist, but I didn’t pull away. Just a slight forward tilt of my head and I’d be resting against his back. It was a weird moment that seemed to go on forever. When the caravan disappeared out the doors and there was no longer a reason to stare at the exit, Noah let go of my wrist, turning to face me. “You okay?”

  I nodded, still shaky inside. I wasn’t even sure if it was from residual anger at Coupon Cow, surprise at Noah’s response to her, or a nervous reaction from his warm touch. Or the fact that standing so close to him, I caught the clean smell of whatever soap he used, which made me surprisingly uncomfortable. Noah, as my manager and general pain in the ass, shouldn’t smell that good.

  “Thanks for helping,” I told him lamely.

  “Sure.”

  We stood for a moment in awkward silence.

  “Isn’t it time for your lunch break?” he asked.

  I glanced at the store’s clock. “Yeah, I think you’re right.”

  “We’re on the same schedule today.”

  “Oh.”

  Was I supposed to ask him if he wanted to sit with me? Now that I thought about it, I realized I wanted to. Why not? We were friends. This wasn’t middle school or anything. I opened my mouth, but he got there first.

  “Want to have lunch together?” he asked, his words rushed together. “I mean, just in the break room. I brought mine.”

  I bit back a smile at the look on his flushed face, as if he was convinced I’d say no. Or maybe he was wondering if a manager was allowed to have lunch with a drone like me. “Sure,” I told him. We headed to the lockers to get our lunches.

  In the break room, Bessie was just finishing washing her empty container. She brightened at the sight of us sitting down together. Maybe it was just that he seemed so manager-like instead of the normal-looking guy who’d hung out with me at the coffee shop, but sitting across from Noah felt really weird.

  We spent the first few minutes eating and not saying much. But the awkwardness fizzled as we started talking about the crazy coupon lady. Soon, we were both laughing hysterically.

  “So she actually had a store policy in her binder. I mean, who does that? Get a life!”

  “I know,” he said. “The first time I saw it I was like, what the hell?”

  “You know that show about extreme couponers—I thought there’s no way people could be like that in real life.”

  He snorted. “My mom uses coupons, but not like that.”

  “I bet you see a lot of crazy.”

  “Pretty much, yeah. Not as much as when I first came here.”

  It was worse? That was hard to imagine. “You’re probably just used to it by now.”

  “Maybe.” He shrugged. “But the people who work here are really nice.”

  “If you say so. By the way, what’s up with Ruthie?”

  “What do you mean?” His eyebrows pinched in confusion.

  “Every time I see her, she’s yelling at me about her daddy’s Lexus. Like I should know her dad or something.”

  A corner of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I’ve heard her say that to you. It is a funny coincidence, you know. Your name being Alexis.”

  I resisted the urge to smack his arm. “What coinci
dence? Stop talking in circles, Noah.”

  His smile dropped. “Oh, sorry. I thought Bessie would’ve told you. Ruthie’s dad left her when she was little. Bessie figured it out after talking to Ruthie’s mom. Her dad’s Lexus was the last thing Ruthie saw when he drove away from her and her mom. It was the last she ever saw of him.”

  10

  The bite I just took of my Twix lodged itself in my throat. It never occurred to me there was any meaning to Ruthie’s ramblings.

  “You okay?” Noah asked.

  I swallowed and nodded, but I couldn’t say anything. How could I? Ruthie’s dad had abandoned her. This whole time I had cringed whenever she appeared, knowing she’d be yelling on and on about her daddy’s Lexus. “I didn’t know,” was all I could say. Lame.

  “She’s different, I know. She can’t help it. But she’s nice, and she wants to help everyone.”

  “Yeah, I get it,” I mumbled, grumpy now and irritated that he was talking to me like I was five. But mostly, I was mad at myself. And that pissed me off even more.

  We sat there, nibbling and sipping, not saying anything. My irritation lessened as I watched the guy sitting across from me, his eyes fixed on the soda can that he twirled in his hands. Sometimes, Noah talked like he was ten years older than me, not one, and it both intrigued and irritated me. But most of the time he was cool. The butterflies that fluttered in my stomach whenever he was around meant I liked him more than just a little. Like at the coffee shop—conversation with him was easy, so that was a plus.

  Still, sometimes he acted nervous, and I wasn’t sure why. If we were at school, I’d understand. I was involved in several clubs and always had a group of friends around. Loner guys like Noah didn’t talk to any of us. We didn’t go out of our way to talk to them, either. Didn’t even notice them most of the time. But this was SmartMart, where the usual rules didn’t apply. He was my boss and I was a clerk, barely out of training. And those eyes! If I stared long enough into those sexy blues, I’d lose myself. Girls would be all over him if he looked like this at school.

  Although probably not—Noah’s look may have changed, but I bet he’d still be a loner. And I’m sure few people would have forgotten what he did to Bryce. How would they feel about me becoming friends with this guy? Not that I even had to ask myself that question—I knew better than to think they’d be happy about it. Guilt nipped at my conscience as I recalled the ridicule Bryce went through when he was kicked off the team. For his sake, I shouldn’t want anything to do with Noah, either. But I couldn’t help myself.

  Noah looked up to catch me staring at him. “What?” he asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, fighting the blush I could feel spreading across my cheeks. “I was just wondering if you speak French?” Now why did I ask that? But it had been on my mind since that day at the shop.

  He tilted his head slightly. “Yes, of course. My mom speaks to us in French all the time.”

  “Say something.”

  “Didn’t you say you were going to major in French?”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t say I knew it, just that I was thinking about it for college.”

  “Ah.” He pursed his lips for a moment, hopefully not thinking about how bogus my claim had been. “Okay. J’adore avoir le déjeuner avec vous.” His tone matched the seriousness of his eyes, which made my breath catch even as I recognized the J’adore as something to do with love. But didn’t vous mean you? I swallowed hard. I wasn’t exactly ready to hear love and you in the same breath from Noah.

  “What does that mean?” I asked hesitantly, cringing inside that this whole conversation might go from easy to awkward in seconds.

  He grinned. “It means, ‘I love having lunch with you.’”

  I crumpled up my napkin and threw it at him as he laughed. “You’re horrible.”

  “I know what you thought I said,” he said, still laughing and making my cheeks blaze.

  I crossed my arms. “Whatever.” But his adorably impish expression made me laugh too, despite myself. “Hey, what time is it?”

  He glanced at his watch. “We have about a minute left. Guess we should get back.”

  I nodded and stood to throw away my trash, wishing that break was just a little longer.

  “Got plans for the weekend?” he asked as he opened the door for me.

  “This weekend?” It was only Tuesday. “Um, I have softball practice. Oh, and camp.”

  “You go to camp?”

  “No. Well, there’s one at the end of summer for softball I’m planning to go to. But I volunteer at a baseball camp for kids a couple days a week. Let’s Have a Ball over at Hibiscus Park.”

  “Volunteer with kids? That’s really cool.” He stopped walking to stare at me, a direct but nervous look—a total switch from the goofiness earlier. “What about Saturday night?”

  His voice shook slightly as he spoke, but the deliberate question made my breath catch as if he had trailed an invisible finger slowly up my arm, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake. I swallowed hard. “I’m going to a baseball tournament.”

  “Really? The Rays?”

  The guy clearly didn’t know baseball. Pros didn’t play in tournaments. “No, it’s for a local traveling team. My friend Bryce is playing.”

  His smile creased into a grimace. I didn’t like the disappointed look he gave me. The idea of me going to a tournament—or doing anything at all—with his archenemy bugged him. I had wondered when this would come up.

  But he didn’t say anything else about it. Would he have asked me out if I had said I wasn’t doing anything? Would I have gone? According to the silly butterflies in my stomach, there was a possibility I might’ve said yes.

  “Guess I’ll see you later,” he said, backing away.

  “Guess so.” I turned to head to the cash register I had been working at previously. Maybe I should’ve told him I wasn’t busy on Friday night. That would’ve been awkward, though. I wasn’t the shy type, for sure, but did I really want to come off as desperate?

  I was completely caught up in my thoughts and unaware of who was working the cash register until I almost ran into Roxanne.

  “Oh, sorry. Am I supposed to relieve you?” I asked in the nicest voice I could manage. She looked at me, then over my shoulder at Noah. “Um, are you supposed to take a break or something?” I prompted.

  “No.” Her mouth tightened. “Go ask Bessie about your shift.”

  I looked around, but Bessie was not at the registers. “Do you know where she is?” I asked Roxanne.

  “Do I look like a directory?” she snapped. “Go find her yourself.” She mumbled something about idiot cheerleaders and turned her back to me.

  Whoa—beyotch alert. I did a quick scan of the floor, then the stockroom, before heading back toward the office. Maybe today’s rotation was posted somewhere. Bessie probably should’ve shown me that before leaving me on my own.

  In the employee hallway, I scanned the various fliers that reminded people about safety and health, but no schedules were posted. One bright green flier caught my eye: Employees must wash hands before each shift. It was signed Linda Munson and had a clipart image of hands under a running faucet. Wash hands before starting each shift? Was Linda afraid we’d bring cooties to the customers or something? I laughed as I saw a similar sign posted next to it with the same clipart: Customers must wash hands before shopping. Now that would be nice.

  “Somebody posted that sign as a joke,” Jake wheezed as he walked up. “I guess someone thinks he’s funny.”

  “I’d say that person is definitely funny.”

  Jake shrugged and shuffled off.

  I went to Mr. Hanson’s office and raised my hand to knock but lowered it when I recognized Noah’s voice. I leaned in a little closer to listen.

  “She’s a valued customer, Noah,” Mr. Hanson was saying. “She’s very angry.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “Did you overhear the cashier saying something rude, too?”

 
; Noah didn’t hesitate in his response. “No, sir.”

  “The cashier didn’t provoke her?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Hmm. This isn’t like you. What made you say such a thing to her?”

  There was a long pause, at the end of which was Hanson’s voice, not Noah’s. “I’ll let it go because your performance record has been stellar up to now. But if you want to keep your job in management, you have to suck it up and smile, okay?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s all.” Hanson sounded so stern, so unlike his normal jolly self that it made me wonder how Noah was feeling. I knew how much he valued Mr. Hanson’s opinion, so to be reamed out for something he wasn’t even responsible for made my stomach churn.

  I backed away as Noah yanked open the door, then stopped short at the sight of me. For a long, uncomfortable moment, we just stared at each other. I wondered if he knew I overheard the conversation. Why didn’t he stand up for himself? It wasn’t his fault the coupon woman was so bitchy. And it wasn’t his fault I bitched back at her. But he never even mentioned me.

  “Noah…” What could I say? Thanks for taking one for the team? Lame.

  He nodded shortly and moved past me into the store. Mr. Hanson cleared his throat. “Can I help you, Miss Dubois?”

  It wasn’t Noah’s fault, it was mine. That was what I should’ve said, but all that came out of my mouth was, “Um, I was just wondering where I’m supposed to go next. I mean, my rotation schedule.”

  He pointed toward a bulletin board I hadn’t noticed. I searched the schedule with a finger, found my name next to women’s apparel, and headed out to the floor.

  I kept my eyes peeled for Noah. I had to know why he felt the need to cover for me. He didn’t have to do that. I was perfectly happy to admit being rude to her—she deserved it. And he didn’t deserve to get in trouble for it. I felt like telling Mr. Hanson, but that would make Noah look like a liar.