25"You don't want to drink that," I said. The stranger raised an eyebrow in question. I pointed at the drink he was holding. "That's Dr. Pepper. The slogan's 'what's the worst that could happen?' but you've seen the ad; the 'worst' is always worse...er."
Dr Pepper, What's the Worst that Could Happen?
Pops/Pop - Grandpa.
Mam - Mother
Just in case. ;)
Working at a bookshop has its highs and lows. A high could be reading in a quiet corner during your break, and a low could be dealing with a boring customer looking for a boring book.
Trust me; there are a lot of boring books.
On a particular Sunday morning I was feeling chirpier than usual. I held the door for old Mrs Nice (an evil hag of a woman that lives on my floor) who, neighbour has it, tortures cats on the weekends. I even waved heartily to my lovely neighbour Mr Clue who liked to perv on me during my morning run – even as I waved I couldn't help but shudder as he peeled back his lips to grin me his dirty yellow teeth.
Bleh.
"Rosy! You're looking particularly happy this mornin'," the owner, a wonderful (I'm a little biased when I say that) Irish man Mr Fellows, bellowed from behind the counter.
He was old but not senile, he just happened to think that everyone around him was deaf.
I blame this on the encounter he had with a teenager who was blasting rock music into his ears through his trusty iPod. Poor lad didn't hear Mr Fellows shout out that a bike was about to run into him. It was a sad day for man; a five year old girl on a pink bike knocking over a grown nineteen year old boy, who'd a thought it? His ego was bruised (as well as his torso) but there wasn't much more damage done. Ever since then Mr F thought teenagers and young adults were partially deaf due to their love for iPodsand music. I think we all learned a valuable lesson that day: five year old girls are vicious.
Yes, that's the sound of a hurt woman who was . . . this is hard for me to say . . . almost run out of her apartment by a Brownie trying to sell cookies. I don't think I've ever looked at Maryland Double Chocolate Chip Hazelnut cookies the same since.
"Mr Fellows!" I barked back. The old man was startled and he jumped hitting his head on the counter. He stood straight and scowled while nursing his head.
Such a nice man.
"You don't need to shout at me, I'm not hearingly impaired." I nodded wisely.
"There's no such word as 'hearingly'." He nodded back just as wisely.
We stared at each other for several moments. Some would say we were having a staring contest. But I say we were having a very long, non-pervy, look at each other for a very, very long couple of moments.
Ya' dig?
The competition was getting tough, my eyes were watering, my breath quickening, it was only a matter of time before I . . .
"I won!" Mr Fellows shouted smug as I rubbed my eyes clean.
I frowned.
"Fine, 'hearingly' is not a word, but it should be. I mean, 'visually' is a word. Visually impaired, hearingly impaired. It only makes sense if it were a word," I rambled whilst nodding smartly.
I dropped my hip and posed dramatically – one arm folded across chest, the other arm was raised as if I was waiting for money – and sighed, "You only won because you were a war veteran and you had to keep your eyes open for long periods of time without blinking. One blink could've meant the end for you."
I nodded sadly and dropped my pose. Why I posed in the first place is a mystery to me.
I put my elbows on the counter where Mr Fellows was shaking his head at me and asked, "So Mr F, what are the plans for today? Calling publications in Scotland, ripping open boxes of brand new books, going to the post office, making orders-" I listed things I had previously done. I noticed Mr Fellows open his mouth once or twice to try and get a word in but I didn't let him. Sure, he owned the shop but did he really own it? Did he? I think not.
"Shut it!" he roared. "You're a nuisance you are. I should've fired you the minute your Mam dropped you off saying you needed a job."
I blinked innocently and pretended to shine the halo on my head. "You wouldn't fire your own granddaughter would you?" I asked innocently. I blinked twice for effect.
Yup, Mr Fellows was me ole' pop. I'm half and half; English and Irish. A lovely mix it was; bright blue eyes with fiery red hair to fit the stereotypes.
I called him Mr Fellows while working at the store and after two years of working at the store, I couldn't drop the name. He thought that people would think he was giving me special treatment by hiring me because I was a blood relative.
Well, it is because I'm a blood relative that I have the job, but you can't say no to my Mam, she's a tough nut she is.
Mr F grunted and waved in the direction of the back room. I took that as a motion for me to check the back room for deliveries.
"Aye-aye cap'n. Rosy Fellows is at your service." I started walking backwards and starting talking in my 'I'm too cool for you' voice. "Whatever you say goes. You say jump, I say 'how high?' You say run and I'll say-"
"Please Mr Fellows don't kick me out into the street." Mr F shouted. I shook my head and sighed.
Old people.
The bookstore was quite large in comparison to the ones in the other towns. There were four sections in the store: the children's section, the teen section, the adult section and non-fiction section. There was also a small area just for reading. People could come in and read books without buying them. My Pop was great like that, people came in and read a book without buying it but because he was great like that they would buy it anyhow.
If it were down to me the law of the land would be: you buy the book then you can sit and read. Mhm. I'm so mean it rocks.
On that particular break time of mine on that chirpy Sunday morning, I decided to sit in the non-fiction section and read a good romance novel while munching on some Pineapples. I looove pineapples.
During Sundays the non-fiction section never had any customers. I know what they say: 'never say never' but there was rarely anyone who came in. Normally the Uni students, the high school students or the boring people who like researching stuff during their free time, would get their books on Fridays and Saturdays for their essays due on the Monday.
I'm happy to say that we never got any slackers. The ones who come in desperately searching for a book on the Roman Empire because they had a history report which was due three weeks ago that they decided to type up late because they were too busy watching birds fly.
Well we did once, but it was because she was watching the paint on the walls dry. It's actually quite hypnotising.
My feet were propped up on a table, my pineapple was at the ready and my book was opened ready to be read. My eye suddenly caught movement in front of me.
"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed. My pineapple was in my hand just about to be chomped on when a tall, scruffy looking guy with a beanie propped on his head walked into the non-fiction section.
The guy looked a little thrown off. "Um . . . this is a bookstore and I need a book." If I wasn't holding a pineapple in my hand, I'd have thought his voice was the next best thing. After his face and monkeys of course. Monkeys are cute, leave them alone.
Oh pretty face, pretty arms, pretty tan...oh! Pretty eyes! Yummy...
I shook my head to rid me of my pervy thoughts on this Adonis in front of me. No such luck.
I tunred my attention back to him and what he said, something about being in a bookstore. Yeah, no shit Sherlock, I wanted to say to him. Of course you're in a bookstore for a book. Those thoughts were a good ten seconds too late.
"It's a Sunday you slacker!" I scolded the stranger. "It's because of people like you that University's have to waste money on retake students!"
The guy raised an eyebrow.
"What?" My tone was defensive. "You know it's true."
"I'm not slacking off," he informed me.
"Then . . .?"
"I'm just doing some reading." He shrugged.
"You're just doing some-" I shrugged mimicking him. "-reading in the non-fiction section on a Sunday? Who does that?!" I asked outraged. He was a disgrace to the teenage slash pre-adult community.
"Well-" he spoke slowly as if I were a dense child. I was once dense but not anymore bud! "-obviously it's me since I'm here and all."
"Is that tone patronising?" I asked him with scrutinising eyes. I looked at my pineapple. "He speaks to me as if I were crazy and dense!"
He snorted. "Says the girl who just spoke to her pineapple."
"Whatever. What are you reading anyway?" I asked in a business-like tone.
"None of your business."
"It is my business, I work here!" I said triumphantly.
"Well I don't think your boss would like it very much if you ate in a bookstore with your feet propped up on a table."
I glared.
"You're good."
He smirked. "I know."
I watched the strange boy finger the books all the while popping glances at me. I eyed him subtly from behind the pineapple that I decided not to eat but use as cover.
"I can see you looking at me. The pineapple isn't as big as your face."
I gasped in outrage. "Are you trying to say my face is . . . is . . . big?"
He looked thoughtful for a moment then said, "Well yes. Bigger than the pineapple of course."
I contemplated this and shrugged. "True, true."
"You're strange, you know that?" he asked with the corners of his mouth tilting up.
"Yes but do you know that-" I stopped talking when I saw him take a swig of his drink. I pointed at the bottle he was slowly closing with a confused look on his face.
Ah, the lovely look of confusion in the morning.
I looked at the bottle as if it were the devil's tooth.
"You don't want to drink that," I said while glancing around me suspiciously. The stranger raised an eyebrow in question. I pointed at the drink he was holding. "That's Dr. Pepper. The slogan's 'what's the worst that could happen?' but you've seen the ad; the 'worst' is always worse...er."
After I spoke there was a moment of silence before the guy burst out laughing. It was literally a head-thrown-back full on guffaw. I sat silently and decided to munch on my pineapple since it wasn't proving to be a very good disguise and because the strange guy was still laughing.
He suddenly threw the drink at me. I having the very good reflexes I do, grabbed the bottle with style . . . well it hit me on the head and fell into my hands. Same thing.
"Drink some."
I scrunched my nose up in disgust. "Ew no. Twenty-nine percent sugar," I read off the bottle. "Do you know what that can do to my teeth? Besides, you've probably backwashed it."
"I never drink straight from the bottle. I sky my drinks."
I raised a sceptical eyebrow. "You're telling me that every drink you have, you 'sky'?"
"Yes. Well, all the ones that I buy from the shops I do."
"Right." Sarcasm was sort of my forte at times.
"Seriously, just drink some. I want to prove you wrong. Nothing bad is going to happen." I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off, "Or worse."
He got me there.
I looked at him warily and unscrewed the cap. I looked at the bottle hesitantly but lifted the bottle and let some fall into my open mouth. I quickly swallowed the drink and thrust the bottle back at him. The guy walked over and took the bottle and lid from me.
"I have to go now."
Aw! See? Bad thing! Stay weird, strange boy who reads on Sundays!
"But I'll be back tomorrow at around the same time, if you're working here I'll see you." He winked and gave me a crooked half smile.
I sat dazed for a moment but smiled suddenly. A maniac sort of smile it was.
Before he left the section he turned and said, "See? Nothing bad or worse."
He gave me another grin and walked out. It was probably a good five minutes before I realised what had just happened; I had an actual conversation where the guy I was speaking to didn't give me strange looks and excuse himself while muttering something about dead goldfish! Oh, and I had let the boy go without getting his name! The idiot I can be astounds me at times. I sat back on my chair and propped my feet back on the table. I laughed to myself.
Mr F stormed into the non-fiction section with his normal scowl. I quickly removed my feet from the table and smile sweetly.
"Why are you all chirpy again?" he asked moodily. "And why did that boy with the weird hat that looked like he'd been on the streets all his life tell me to inform you of his name?"
"He did?" My eyes lit up. I stood up giddily. "What is it?"
"Lucas." He grunted when I squealed. I grabbed my grandfather's hands and tried to get him to do the cha cha cha with me but with no avail. He just barked at me to get stocking.
Maybe Dr. Pepper wasn't half bad . . . or worse.
I don't own Dr Pepper or the slogan for it, iPods, books, famous people, pineapples and other whatnots. . . Man, this is getting tiring to say. Still, never can be too careful! =)
In case 'take a sky' isn't the lingo everywhere, it's when you drink from a bottle without it touching your lips. It's held high in the sky when drunk. =)
I put this in Romance because the whole meeting leads to a romance between the two. Lucas and Rosy wanted me to share their meeting with each other and leave the rest for you to imagine. Have them pop out babies, run away to Brighton and get married, start a band and rock out, whatever! You decide. In your mind of course. ;) Hope you enjoyed this, my little sorry for not updating any of my other stories in a while. School's starting, so think of this as a little parting while I'm inactive for a while. Not too long. Just . . . not that short. ;)
Hope =)
xoxo