to lose, churned the emotional vortex stronger and faster until he thought his brain might explode. Another bolt of lightning rent the sky, reminding him of his granny’s wise words.
“No matter the ferocity of the storm, it always passes.”
Jonah saluted the sky with his bottle of beer. “Here’s to you, Granny.”
He sipped his beer and watched the resplendent display until he could no longer see the flashes of brilliant light or hear the rumble. Unfortunately for him, his private turmoil had only quieted instead of moving on.
Back in his bedroom, Jonah could hear Kendall and company starting up for round two. He buried his head beneath his pillow to drown out the sounds, but it didn’t work. He tried thinking about complex coding techniques to distract his mind, but it didn’t work either. The sounds of his roommate engaging in very enthusiastic sex steered his brain into a direction he seemed incapable of stopping. Behind Jonah’s closed eyelids, visions of the unattainable man tormented him until he could no longer ignore his aching dick.
Jonesing after your intern. Could you be any more cliché?
Flopping onto his back, Jonah looked at his right hand and said, “I guess it’s just you and me again, pal.”
The next morning, Jonah got the shock of his life when he returned to the corner market to pick up his Bugles and saw the skinny white guy standing behind the counter with Mr. Ling. The older man appeared to be teaching the leg pisser how to use the fucking thing.
“You’ve got to be kidding me?” he groused, startling a lady, who grabbed her kid’s hand and bolted out the door.
Mr. Ling looked up and smiled happily. “Ah, it’s Dirty Harry.”
SWG snapped his head up. His eyes widened in alarm, and he began to tremble like a Chihuahua. Good. “C-c-c-can I h-help you?” he managed to stammer out when Jonah reached the counter. His name tag read Dakota, and the red polo uniform shirt made the acne on his face look more prominent. If the Lings hired him to work in the store, the guy was at least twenty-one. He sure didn’t look it.
Jonah didn’t bother hiding his contempt for the pissant. After a long staredown, he shifted his attention to Mr. Ling. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jonah asked, gesturing to SWG Dakota in case his question wasn’t clear.
“Yes.” Mr. Ling nodded. “We’ll be just fine.”
“I didn’t rob the store,” Dakota said softly. “I would still be in the broom closet if you hadn’t yanked me out.”
Jonah jerked his focus back to SWG. “So, this is my fault?”
“N-n-no,” Dakota stuttered.
Jonah held out his hand, palm up. “Give me your ID.”
“My ID?” Dakota asked.
“Dirty Harry is a cop. Good guy,” Mr. Ling told Dakota. “Show him so he feels better about you working here.”
Dakota quickly pulled his driver’s license from his wallet and extended it to Jonah with a shaky hand. “Your name is Harry?” he asked.
Ignoring him, Jonah snapped a picture of the ID with his cell phone before returning it.
“His name is Jonah. I just call him Dirty Harry after my favorite character.” Mr. Ling squinted up his face, formed a pistol with his right thumb and forefinger, and lifted his hand. Jonah knew what was coming, but Dakota moved out of the way like he was about to get caught up in the crossfire. Mr. Ling narrowed his eyes and began reciting the famous lines from Dirty Harry, where Clint Eastwood asks a perpetrator if they’re feeling lucky. Dakota jumped when Mr. Ling put big emphasis on the word “punk” at the end.
Chuckling, Jonah said, “No, I’m not feeling lucky. I went home without my stash of Caramel Bugles.”
“Oh, those were for you?” Dakota asked, then worried his bottom lip between his teeth.
“What do you mean were?”
Mr. Ling smiled apologetically. “I forgot to explain our arrangement to Dakota. He saw the delivery and assumed they were for sale and stocked them on the shelves this morning. I was arguing with distributors and hadn’t realized what was happening until they were all gone.”
“Sorry,” SWG Dakota mumbled.
Jonah tamped down his disappointment. “It’s fine.”
“Mrs. Ling is gathering some from our other stores. You can pick them up on your way home.”
“Thank you, Mr. Ling.”
“So, Caramel Bugles, huh?” Dakota asked.
“You got something against caramel-covered corn snacks?” Jonah countered.
“Well, no, but you seemed so…” Dakota waved his hands around while presumably searching for the right words. Either no adjectives came quickly, or he wasn’t willing to speak