On this slow afternoon between Christmas and New Year’s, Brad was bored. When a stylish woman came through the automatic doors and headed toward the barbeque gas grills, Brad stopped leaning on the paint counter and followed, hot on her trail.
From behind she looked pretty good, for a woman no longer young but not yet middle-aged. Younger than his ex, he guessed. He admired her trim figure and wondered if she dated older men.
Brad smoothed his orange apron and trailed in her wake. Chances are good I’ll make quota, he thought. He prided himself on his customer service skills, honed over many years working at Lind’s Home Base. He could sell lumber and nails to any contractor who walked through the door, no matter what language they spoke. For the ladies, he knew just what kind of carpet they would order or what size plastic bin they would choose to store their leftover Christmas decorations. I bet you’d like a green lid, he would guess, and they always flirted back, especially the over-sixty crowd.
Brad was a little surprised when the customer walked past the barbeques and garden implements without a glance, aiming for the wall of repellents. Aha, he guessed. She had some critters eating up her aloe vera plants. She stopped and stared up at the wall of plastic bottles, cans, traps, sprays, and devices designed to repel various unwanted pests.
Brad stopped behind her. “Happy new year, Miss, help you find something?”
The woman turned. Brad felt skewered by blue eyes and an expression he could not decipher. Was she angry, or was she scared? He had a sneaking hunch he knew what she was looking for, but he wanted to avoid bringing up any sensitive subjects. People didn’t wander the repellent aisle for entertainment.
“Let me guess, say no more, trouble with moles, am I right?”
She stared at him a long moment before responding. “Well, no, no moles. I live in an apartment. No garden.” She turned back to peruse the wall of poisons in front of her.
Brad smacked his head. “No, say it isn’t so! Roaches? That’s the pits, but so common here in desert apartment buildings. Almost impossible to get rid of entirely without going nuclear. But this spray is the next best thing. Works for three months, no odor, safe for pets.”
The woman narrowed her eyes. “No trouble with cockroaches, uh, Brad . . . at least not of the nonhuman kind. Or mice. Or flies. Let’s see, what else? I currently seem to be safe from mosquitoes. No trouble with deer eating my lettuce or cats peeing in my cabbages. Lucky me. No, I’m looking for something in particular. . . . There. That’s it. Something like that.”
Brad squinted at the silver spray cans at the end of the aisle.
“Oh, these? A very new product line, not sure how well they work, to be honest. Very expensive, possibly toxic.”
“Nothing could be more toxic than the creep I want to use it on,” the woman said. She pointed at a can on the highest shelf. “That one, please. Can you reach it?”
Brad stretched and brought it down to eye level. He read the product name out loud. “Creep Repellent. For use on current and former spouses and partners. Are you sure this is what you want?”
The customer nodded. “Quite sure. As long as it is not lethal. I don’t want to kill him. I just want him to leave me alone. This should do the trick, along with all the other tactics I have deployed. Boric acid. Patchouli incense. Tofu. Feminine hygiene products in plain view. Let me see the instructions. So . . . it says I should spray this around all entrances to my apartment. Oh, and my car as well. Right, that makes sense.”
“I’ve seen the TV commercials,” Brad admitted. “Well, when I’m not fastforwarding through them. I mean, I gave up cable, too expensive.
The woman gave him a genuine smile. She had nice even white teeth. Brad felt a little surge of hope. He took a step closer. She backed up and took the cap off the spray can.
“Shall we test it out?” she said, holding the can up with her finger on the button.
Brad backed away with a polite cough. “I hope he gets the message.”
“He will. And if that doesn’t work, I have my new best friend with me, locked and loaded at all times.” She patted her purse.
“Self-checkout is over that way.”