Finally...My Forever - Kristi Pelton Page 0,1
going to handle the rising tension. Part of me wanted to intervene. The lawyer part of me thought I could negotiate with the lady and help the girl.
“Ma’am. If I could have you step over to this other register over by the ice cream.”
“I am not moving.”
The girl closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as another customer brought up the rear behind me. I felt bad for both employees and honestly, I just wanted to put my milk back and leave to alleviate the line.
“Phoebe. We’re out of whipped cream,” a different girl from behind the ice cream counter shouted Red’s way, shaking an empty can. From the register, Phoebe held up a finger.
A phone started ringing inside the store, and the poor girls’ eyes closed. In one very long minute, this girl’s life unraveled.
“Ma’am. If you hand me your basket, I will run over, ring it up and come back to tell you how much it is. David, reboot the machine.”
“Fine. Could you hurry? I am in a hurry,” the rude bitch said as if she was the only one that mattered.
Phoebe picked up the lady’s items and hustled around a corner. Several of us grumbled about the woman in the front of the line. It wasn’t that difficult to see that this girl was overwhelmed.
“Hey,” I finally said. The stuffy looking woman reared around and then stopped, looking stunned. Like most women when they looked at me, she smiled, fluttering her fake eye lashes. “Ease up. She’s clearly feeling overwhelmed.”
That fake smile turned to sheer ugliness when this woman scrunched up her face at my comment. Phoebe hurried back to the lady. “Nineteen dollars and twenty-four cents, please.”
“Well, that doesn’t seem right,” the damn bitch replied. A collective moan bumbled through the line. “Here’s my card, but I’d like a receipt.”
Phoebe nodded and chuckled under her breath as she shuffled past us once again. The woman examined her well-manicured nails as if she hadn’t just been the rudest bitch alive to the poor girl.
“Ow!” The cry of pain grabbed all of our eyes as Phoebe slid to the floor, landing hard on her ass. When she brought her hand up, she grabbed her wrist, obviously in pain. Once she got to the woman in the front of the line, the woman shook her head, refusing the dirty receipt.
Phoebe’s shoulders slumped in defeat.
“I’d like to speak to your manager,” the woman demanded.
Something shifted in Phoebe’s face. Hardened may have been a better word.
“You know what lady, I pray to God that karma slaps your ass before I do,” she spat out. The woman’s mouth gasped open, and every single one of us applauded Phoebe. Several even cheered. Me, well, I grinned, proud of her for standing up for herself and putting this lady in her place. My smile only grew when she glanced my way.
“Phoebe!” a man cautioned from behind the counter.
Her cheeks tinged red in embarrassment as he approached her. The tag on his shirt read Dennis Manager. Where the hell had Dennis been while Phoebe navigated this entire issue without his managerial help.
“You need to apologize to this woman.”
“Dennis.” Her pleading tone pulled me into the conversation.
She said his name as the other woman stood with her hand on her hip waiting for an apology. Every man and woman in that line stayed quiet, waiting for her response.
“She doesn’t owe her an apology.” I finally said. “She was condescending and irrational toward your employee,” I explained just as Phoebe removed her Braums ball cap, shook out a mess of strawberry blonde hair and handed Dennis the hat. Damn that hair.
A guy in the line jabbed his hand in my direction, nodding. “Agreed.”
Phoebe smiled at me but shook her head.
“I’m waiting,” the woman spoke.
Stubbornly, Phoebe shook her head. “Wait all day. You won’t hear one come out of my mouth.” She lifted the apron off her neck, handing it to Dennis.
“Phoebe. You know you need this job,” he said.
My eyes darted to hers and then down to her worn out tennis shoes.
“I’ll figure something out,” she whispered, still staring at the woman. “If the rest of you want to move over to the other register, David should be able to help you. Sorry about this.”
The rest of the people in the line mumbled about what happened as they proceeded to go over to the other side of the store. Not me. I put the milk back in the case and watched her go through an oversized, metal