Inside the store, the heat had my frozen toes wiggling with glee in my boots. I unzipped my coat, thankful I had it, and my normal shower-gel smell, back on my person. No more borrowing coats or any other odor-absorbing materials from Monty.
Ace, possibly the biggest movie trivia buff I’d ever met, reclined behind the counter, watching a gangster flick on the giant flat screen. A half-eaten burger balanced on his substantial belly. He gave me a nod.
I squinted at the screen. “Untouchables?”
“I can’t get enough of the baby carriage, you know?”
“De Palma’s a genius.”
A claw dug into my ankle, piercing through my jeans.
“Hey, I see you little man, no need to get violent.” I gave Oscar a quick rub down. The demanding stray tabby had wandered into the store a few years ago and decided it was home. Oscar had become a mascot of sorts. Personally, I thought he’d been trained to trip you up so change fell out of your pockets. He was always winding around your legs so you couldn’t walk straight. Every time I rented a movie, my change disappeared. Oscar and his wily ways were the only logical answer.
I nudged him along with my foot, ignoring his low growls and soon lost myself in the stacks. I walked down each row with deliberate, measured steps, scanning covers and taglines, mulling over which would entertain the most. A romance?
I shuddered at the thought, images of Eric and Morgan superimposing themselves over the couples on every DVD cover. No. I couldn’t go there. Not yet. The wound still stung.
A blood-spattered image caught my eye. Horror? No, I needed a laugh - a comedic, rebel against authority classic would do, like The Breakfast Club or better yet, my good friend Ferris. My steps quickened. Yes, Ferris and his day off would do just fine.
I stopped in front of Fargo, a personal best choice award winner. A guy blocked the aisle. Time slowed. Florescent lights overhead flickered. My vision narrowed on the guy’s familiar expanse of shoulder and messy collar brushing dark hair. Shit, it was Eric. And he was holding the only copy of Ferris, reading the back blurb. Who needed to read the blurb? It was Ferris for Christ’s sake.
His chin lifted as if he knew he was being observed and I ducked around the corner hoping I hadn’t been made. I heard footsteps behind me and panicked. I wove through the store into uncharted territory. I found myself a step away from the adult nook, sectioned off with chest-height, makeshift walls, and swinging doors that creaked, outing those who ventured inside - as I discovered when I decided it would be a great hiding place. It smelled like desperation, and the boy’s locker room at school, and a little bit like Monty’s coat.
I spun in a slow circle. Oh, the humanity. Could you even get into that position without breaking something? Why the hell was I surrounded by porn? Again Eric had inspired very un-like-me behavior. The guy was clearly trouble. Still, he had good taste.
Ferris rocked.
I wanted Ferris.
I bolted. The creaky doors shook the walls.
Standing before me, Eric tapped Ferris against his palm, his smile wide. He glanced up at the neon “Adults Only” sign.
“Care to recommend anything?” he asked.
“What?” Snappy comebacks eluded me. “Oh, I wasn’t seriously looking at that stuff. I thought I saw a friend of mine go in and I wanted to…um…bug her.”
Eric raised an eyebrow.
“But it wasn’t her.”
“Then who was it?”
“Some bored housewife.” I dodged. “I think I embarrassed her.”
He eyed the gap between the swinging doors, looking for the housewife, I guessed.
“She left. Right before I did.” I blurted in case he should decide to enter the porno zone and discover – no housewife. “You didn’t see her?”
“No,” he smirked around the word while holding Ferris, the bastard. I had to get away or I’d do even more damage and try to wrestle the DVD from his grip. Which would lead to body contact. And possibly other stuff.
I shoved my hands into my coat pockets and pushed past him. “Yeah, well, she took off pretty fast.”
“I’m sure she did,” he said, following me. “You’re in a bit of a rush, yourself.”
I shrugged, striding through the store.
“I think this is where I point out that you’re running away from me again.”
I spun around, then steadied the display rack I’d sent wobbling.
“I’m not running from you.” I pointed to Ferris. “I’m running from that.”
“Bueller?” Eric stared at Mathew Broderick’s perpetually pubescent face.
“You’re holding my Wednesday night laugh. And I kind of needed it.”
“Charlie?” Ace called from the counter. He watched Eric warily. “You okay?”
“Story of my life,” Eric answered him in a breezy tone, “all the girl wants is my movie, not my hot bod.”
Ace shrugged. “Sorry kid, you’re no James Dean.” He squinted. “Is that, Bueller? Charlie’s favorite.” He sighed. “Come on over here and we’ll settle this real civilized like.”
Eric handed Ace the DVD.
“You had it first?” Ace asked Eric.
“Yup.”
“But my girl’s laying on the guilt trip?” Ace gave me a disapproving look.
“Hey, I was not. I don’t do the batting of the eyelashes and the pouting of the lips.” I tucked in my bottom lip when Eric flicked his own, then pointed at my face.
“There’s two ways this can go,” Ace said to Eric. “You can be a dick and rent the movie and never have a chance with Charlie,” he spoke behind his hand, “and she’s a real nice girl.”
I flushed.
“Or,” Ace continued, “we could have a wee bit of a trivia contest. I’ll ask you both different questions about Bueller, here. The first one to get stumped - gets stuffed.” He brushed crumbs off his fleece sweatshirt. “What’s it gonna be?”
Eric tapped his fingers on the glass countertop. He looked at the DVD, then at me. Then at the DVD, then at Ace. Ace looked at Eric. Then at me.
“Oh, just forget the whole fucking thing.” I whipped toward the exit.
“Do that again,” Eric said.
I turned around.
“Do what?”
“Stomp your foot like that. It’s very sexy.” He winked.
I got in his face. “Let’s do it.” I stepped aside to let a mother and her little girl through the theft gates. “Right here. Right now.” At my words, the woman immediately started dragging her protesting daughter back outside. I heard disappointed howls through the glass door.
“You’re on.”