absolutely. Don’t worry about me. I’m just going to get through this pile, then lock up.”
“All right.” As she walks out she calls back: “Hey, say hi to your brother for me, okay?”
“Will do! Stay safe!”
Then Cecily is gone.
She checks her phone again. Still no word from Alex; nothing from Esther either. “Where the fuck are you?” she mutters to herself.
“Are you a pharmacist or a sailor?”
She looks up to find a large, bald man, midsixties, looming over the register. He wears an amused grin and she doesn’t like the way he’s looking at her at all. Instinctively, she surveys the immediate area. A shift leader straightens shelves nearby should she need assistance.
“I didn’t realize anybody was standing there,” she says, masking her surprise with a clipped tone that passes for harried friendliness.
“Busy day?”
“Something like that.”
“You’re not Sanjay.”
“You’re observant.” She lets a trace of an accent color her words. Patients tolerate a higher level of acerbity if you sound foreign, she’s learned. It allows them to feel superior even while she refuses to act deferential. “Sanjay left early. I’m Laila.” She flashes a smile and goes back to logging scripts in the system.
“Ah, mucho gusto!” the man says. “¿De donde eres?”
Great, a gringo who can string together basic phrases.
“Puerto Rico,” she says. Though she’s never been to the island, it’s what he expects, and giving him that is easier than explaining the diversity of the Latin American experience.
“Beautiful island. My son loves it. Do you have any kids?”
“I work too much. No time for kids.”
He grins. “You’re still young. You have time. Don’t wait too long, though.”
She glances up from the monitor. “How can I help you?”
He rocks back and forth. “Yo me llamo Thaddeus Bloom,” he says. “I’m picking up some pills... uh... pastelitos.”
He just said he was picking up some pastries. A smile stretches across her face, and she chooses to not correct him. “¡Ah, muy bien!”
“Gracias. My wife, Cheryl,” he continues, “normally gets them for me, but she’s busy at the house today. She’s getting everything ready for the storm, the huracán.”
Laila resists the urge to roll her eyes. “That’s good. Smart lady.” She types furiously, partly out of experience and partly in the spirit of theatricality. Something else she’s learned: purpose and concentration intimidate customers. If you look busy they tend to assume you are busy and leave you alone. “Last name Bloom, right?”
“Like a rose. I’m sure a pretty girl like you has plenty of roses. ¡Belleza!” He bobs his eyebrows. Laila fakes a short laugh in the name of customer service, sexual harassment’s complicit corporate partner.
“It doesn’t look like it’s been filled. I can fill it for you now, if you don’t mind waiting.”
She points to the waiting area, but Thaddeus lingers. “Take all the time you need. I’m not in a rush.” He whistles a little tune to himself.
Glancing out the drive-through window, she spots a feeder band working its way across the sky from the east. The bulk of the hurricane is still well offshore, but the first tendrils of the mighty system are already reaching across land. Her mind flashes back to the shots of Cocoa Beach on the news this morning. They’re finally getting some exciting footage, no doubt. It won’t be long now till Bill gives the go-ahead to shut down and still no word from Alex.
She grabs her phone and fires off a quick message:
Hey papo just checking in haven’t heard from you in a minute. lemme know ur alright, k? should be home soon and we can put up the shutters. hit me back
Alex’s mercurial nature requires a gentle touch, especially lately, but she’s running out of time and patience.
Glancing back at Thaddeus, she adds: u wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had!!! :/
Then it’s back to work.
The prescription—Fendiline, a common arrhythmia medication—takes no time to fill. In a moment, she counts the pills, prints the label, verifies the count, and steps up to the register. “I can ring you up,” she says, motioning him over.
“Wow, that was quick. Such service! I should come here more often.”
Her fingers fly over the register keys. “I’ll let Sanjay know.”
He hands her his credit card and she swipes it for him, then taps the keypad. “Just follow the instructions here.”
He labors over each prompt while the feeder band gets closer. If he’s not out the door before the rain starts she’ll be stuck with him. He’ll want to practice his horrendous Spanish on her while she has work to finish.
“It’s asking me for cash back,” he says. “But I gave you a credit card.”
“Hit the red cancel button on the bottom right and swipe the card again.”
The feeder band is maybe half a mile away. There’s still time, but they have to move a lot quicker than this.
“Let’s see here.” He takes greater care this time, pausing to put on his reading glasses before peering at the keypad. His lips pucker and he emits a thin, tuneless whistle. “Credit card. Yes, that’s what I want. Okay... Is this total right?”
Laila smiles at him with her eyes and bobs her head up and down quickly. Just hit yes, she thinks. Just hit yes.
“Yes.”
As soon as he does the register springs into action, the till and the receipt printer clang like a slot machine that hit the jackpot. She slams the drawer and tears the receipt off, practically throwing it at him. “Have a great day!” Then she’s back to the computer to finish inputting the scripts. At least this way Sanjay will have a clean start when he returns.
Bill texts her: Shut down and get home! Corporate gave the green light.
And just in time. Outside, the sky is black. The first volley of heavy rain pelts the corrugated roof of the drive-through like little explosions.
You don’t have to tell me twice!
Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.
Текст предоставлен ООО
