Member-only story
The Blonde
I wasn’t used to people ignoring my fuck-off vibe. What did this chick want?
Bobby smelled bad. Like, really bad.
It wasn’t completely his fault, he had some kind of glad problem, but he didn’t do much to take care of it either. The heavy layer of cologne he wore did little to improve the condition — in fact, the combination of smells was often enough to make anyone who got too close, gag.
He told me about her as we strolled through the aisles of the big-box retailer he was working at, me staying a step or two ahead of him, keeping upwind, dodging his scent.
“She’s got the most beautiful hair,” he was saying.
I was only partially listening. I was there for something else.
“Uh-huh,” I replied as I checked out a display of DVD players stacked much too tall. I imagined it toppling over and wondered if the crispy-crackling sound of plastic breaking against the concrete floor would echo through the aisle.
“…dinner Tuesday night.” Bobby stopped talking.
“I’m sorry, did you say you are taking this girl to dinner?” I smirked. I wasn’t very nice, even on a good day, and today was not a good day. Plus, I hadn’t forgotten that Bobby had tried to fuck my little sister just a few months before.
