Some People Never Learn – Part Four

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I stopped my “palm to forehead” reflex before I showered myself in freshly powdered sage. Beer, really? Hadn’t he been out of college for five years?
“There will be no beer, no friends, no drive-in theatre spell. No distraction of any sort while on patrol for the next three nights.” I hid my growing anger behind the rack of herbs and resumed my shopping. It was good for the nerves.
“You’re taking this urban legend watch way too seriously,” came Jordan’s voice on the other side of the shelf. He looked at me between two bags of moonwort.
“I will not be caught with my pants down because of you,” I whispered. I moved the bags to cut his line of sight. To dike the negativity rising with every second, my mind focused on the hefty check in my purse. I picked up a bag of chamomile; I would need it to sleep tonight.
“Too bad,” Jordan replied loud enough for the whole store to hear. “It could release some of your bottled up tension.”
I stifled my knee-jerk, muted my groan, and slowed my breath. I knew what he was doing and I wouldn’t let him win. He was going to do what I asked no matter how annoying he became.
Luckily for his crotch, Jordan resumed his courting of Sallie after his outrageous comment. I picked a few more herbs and oils off the shelves, and headed for the register.
“Quite an arsenal you got there,” Sallie commented between two beeps of the scanner. She dropped a couple of items in my bag without putting them on my bill – her “friend of the family” special – then took my money. “Doing business with you is always such a pleasure, my dear.” As she ended me my bag, she grabbed my elbow to force me close. “Don’t you let Mister Precious drive you nuts, huh!”
“I’ll strangle him before he has a chance.”
“What?” the guy in question said after sipping his last drop of herbal tea.
“Nothing, Jordan. Time to go.”
Jordan drove me home with as little regard for speed limits and auditory health as usual. There was no collar to lose and I was in a hurry to get home so I endured. He didn’t help me ferry my stuff in. I didn’t ask.
“Good night!” I wished, a last ditch effort of civility for the evening.
“Good spelling!” he replied, knowing very well I had a night’s worth of work in front of me and not offering to help.
I was not rewarding his detestableness by sparing him the patrol.
As he disappeared around the curb, I wished he’d get in trouble and broke parole just so I could be justified to smash his chiseled jaw against the pavement.

Part Five >>