Reeling with how to respond, I survey her from head to toe. Bleached-blond hair with a half inch of dark roots desperately needing attention, tight pink shirt that does nothing for her figure, and even tighter black jeans that are riding low and accentuating her muffin top.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Suggest you get those roots taken care of so you can find your own man instead of wishing you could have mine.”
The man in front of me in line, approximately the size of a grizzly bear, turns around with interest at our conversation. “Shit, if this is gonna turn into a catfight, can we take it outside so more people can watch? I’d put my money on you, sweetheart.” He’s looking at me, and his vote of confidence is somehow kind, but the suggestion that we’re actually going to fight is ridiculous.
“Shut up, Stan. I’d whup her ass and rip those extensions right out of her head.”
That actually makes me laugh. “Oh, honey. You’re so misguided that you can’t tell real hair from extensions. Just because you have them doesn’t mean everyone else does. What is it you say down here?Bless your heart?”
“Buuurn, Tricia,” Stan says, doing a fair impression of Ashton Kutcher from hisThat 70s Showdays.
“Shut up, Stan. You stay out of this.”
Stan shakes his head. “Fuck no. This could be better than the real fights. Lemme get some popcorn out of the machine. I’ll be right back. Don’t start without me.”
When Stan lumbers off, I move up in line, hoping I can turn around and Tricia will walk away, but the two other men ahead of me are facing us, watching the exchange. Tricia’s shoulders stiffen, and I have a feeling her pride is on the line.
“Why don’t you just go back to where you came from? Aren’t there ten million men in New York or something?”
I laugh. “Not exactly, and I’m not leaving.”
“You probably slept with every single one of them, and they all know what a skank ho you are now so you had to run a thousand miles away to start over. Women like you are the ones who give all of us a bad name.”
“You might want to stop, because you sound ridiculous.”
She pushes out her tits and crosses her arms under them. “We’ll run you out of town if we have to. Don’t think we won’t.”
I assume she’s talking about her little grocery store posse, but she doesn’t realize that they just make me more determined to stay. “You can try.”
“Boys, are you gonna order or what?”
The two men standing between the food window and me are watching us like idiots, so I take my turn and step between them. I don’t need to deal with bad roots and an even worse attitude tonight. I’m here with Logan, and life is good.
“I’ve got an order to place. Two cheeseburgers, medium, with everything on them, and a giant basket of fries.”
The girl, who doesn’t look any older than sixteen, scribbles it down wide-eyed. She definitely caught at least part of the exchange with Blondie McRoots. “Is there anything else I can get you?”
“That’s all. Thank you so much.”
She gives me a total and I slide the cash toward her. “Keep the change.”
“Thank you.” She hands me a red plastic number with a smile. “We’ll bring it out when it’s ready.”
I thank her again and turn more carefully this time. Sure enough, Tricia and the two guys are still standing there, waiting for who knows what, and Stan is hurrying back with a basket of popcorn, shoving a handful in his mouth with nearly every step.
“You girls ready to take this outside? We’ve already got takers for bets!”
I give him a pointed look. “I think you’re mistaken. I don’t fight in bowling alley parking lots, or any other parking lots, for that matter.”
Tricia’s face twists into an angry mask. “You’re too good for that, huh? I should’ve figured, what with you being a cuntbag who won’t be able to keep her man.”
I cross my arms, the red plastic number gripped tightly between my fingers. “You’re really gonna go there? Just throwing out the C-word? Are bar fights something you do for fun on the weekends?”
“Slut,” she spits at me.
I look up at the ceiling like maybe it’ll stop me from doing something I’ll regret.Like that has ever worked. I send a quick little ditty up to the big man anyway.