CHAPTER FIVE ~ OPERATION: COOKIE CUTTER by B. A. Linhares

At Safeway, O-M-G, Josh O'Dell is looking totally H-O-T!

 

 

At Safeway, I wander up and down the aisles scanning the shelves for the little red baking powder can. I wonder if Josh is working today. I pause in produce and scan the directory sign floating over the isles. Way down at the end, is a guy in a Safeway uniform with a white apron tied around his waist. He pushes a handcart through two swing doors and as I approach him and he flashes me a big smile. He starts stacking heads of lettuce in a vegetable case.

“Hey Cookie, how’s it going?”

“Josh O'Dell?” I blink in surprise.

“Yeah, who'd you think I was?”

“I don't know.” O-M-G, Josh O'Dell is looking totally H-O-T!

He puts down the head of lettuce and wraps his muscular arms around me, giving me a bear hug. My heart races and I get a whiff of soap and warm body. Hello! Wow, the Josh I knew was shy and a whole lot thinner.

“It’s really good to see you Cookie,” he says, finally letting me go.

“Uh…you too,” I say, quickly running my eyes over Josh's body. He's totally buff! “So…yeah. I thought you worked here," say, keeping the conversation going. "I mean, over the summer, I got a glimpse of you working, but you’re always so busy…I didn't want to bother you.”

"I'm never too busy to talk to you." He flashed me and smile and tosses a head of lettuce like a basketball onto the heap.

I wave my hand around. "So, you like working here?"

“Not any more." Josh rolls his gorgeous chocolate brown eyes skyward.

"Why's that?"

"Because today is my last day on this lame job. I’m actually interning down at the station as well, in the forensic computer science department. With my dad.” He picks up a banana and pretends it's a handgun.

“Ah, very cool.” This is why Josh is talking different. He's been around cops and picked their mannerisms.

An older man with a paunch, wearing a necktie and plastic name tag, strolls by with one of the cashiers, explaining the ropes. They stop a few feet away from us. “Big sale this weekend, Cindy,” he tells her, adjusting the weights on a silver scale hanging an end cap stacked with melons. “I hope you’re ready to work the checkout counters. It can be brutal if you don't understand the scales.” He picks up large Honeydew and lays it gently in the scale.

Cindy mutters, “Yes sir.” When Fitz turns his back, she flips him off.

Meanwhile, Josh and I pretend to be busy comparing the difference in price of Iceberg, Romaine and Arugula. Josh lowers his voice, “He's Sal Fitz, the produce manager. He's a prick about the stuff on the shelves being perfect. Guy needs to get a life.”

I whisper, “Ah. Bet you’re glad it your last day then.”

“You bet your sweet ass I am.”

“Excues me a second, Cindy,” Fitz says, and goes over and points at sturdy cardboard display stocked with pineapples, figs, papayas, and a variety of citrus fruits. “O’Dell, before clocking out son, I need you to restock this specialty summer fruits bin.”

“Yes sir.” Josh looks at me and rolls his eyes. “I better hop to it if I plan to get out of here on time.”

I smile sweetly and take the hint. “Well, it’s really nice seeing you again.” I turn to go and he grabs my hand.

“Um, can you stick around? This should only take a sec.”

I make a face. A little voice tells me to stop flirting and find the baking power.

He lets go of my hand and leans closer whispering, “I promise this won’t take long.”

His breath warms my ear. On the other hand, I pride myself in being able to ignore that nagging goodie-two-shoes voice inside my head. I smile and nod my head like a bobble-head doll. “Um, take your time.

While Josh ‘hops to it’ I openly stare at him. I can’t help myself; I'm mesmerized by his physical transformation. He looks totally hot with a five o'clock shadow.

A few minuets later, the produce manager and his protégé leave. Josh picks up a single pineapple and balances on top of the aforementioned display. Spreading his arms, says. “Yo, it's a masterpiece.”

I laugh and he shoves the empty cart though swing doors. We stroll by the bakery department and stop next to a rack of fresh French baguettes. My stomach grumbles loudly.

Josh picks up a baguette and swings it like a baseball bat. “So, any more problems with the paparazzi?”

I’m not sure what he’s talking about then it dawns on me that Safeway has racks full of tabloids at every register. I cringe. “Oh…my…gosh, you saw that cheesy spread of me in my bikini.”

“Oh yeah!” Josh nods his head ardently, and then says in all seriousness, “Just wondering why you'd agree to pose?”

I punch him in the upper arm, which is rock hard. “Are you kidding me, that jerk took those pictures of me illegally!”

“I know. I’m yanking your string.”

A woman in a hairnet and white baker's uniform takes the baguette from Josh and puts it back on the rack. “We're going to miss you Joshy.”

“I know. I’m irreplaceable.”

She ruffles his dark curls and leaves us.

Josh touches my arm. “Your father was in here buying up all of the papers. He and I talked about what occurred with the reporter. Just so you know...I personally destroyed every copy I could find. I assume he did the same.”

I laugh. “Oh yeah, he almost burned the house down tossing so much newspaper in our fireplace. In July yet.” I smile. “Thanks, I owe you for helping save my good name.”

Josh shakes his head. “Nah, hey, Cookie, it was me, I woulda' knocked that jerk's block off. My dad told me about the media circus camped out in your yard the week after you got back from Austria.”

“It was pretty awful. I thought they were going to push right through our front door and come inside the house. Officer O’Dell (Josh’s dad) came to our rescue in the nick of time, thank goodness.” I flash Josh a big smile. “We owe him big time!”

Josh eyes narrow. “God, it must've been really tough.”

“Oh yeah,” I say, blowing out a breath. Dealing the media was bad enough, but it was worse having people at school talk about me behind my back. By the end of my Junior year I was pretty much hating life.

Josh touches my arm again. “I’m so sorry about your Mom.”

I bite my lower lip. I'm about to say no offense, but I really don't want to talk about this anymore when a family pushes their shopping cart between us and we're forced to step out of their way. Thankful for the distraction, I smile at the two cherub-faced little toddlers hanging on to the sides of the cart. I don't really care for little kids, too much responsibility, but these two are dressed alike and cute as a button. They smile back at me and wave their little hands at us.

I wave. “Hi, they are so cute. Are they twins?”

The Mother says, “Yes, they are, and a handful.”

Josh says, “Ma'am, Safeway has free sugar cookies for children.”

All of sudden both of them start screaming in unison, “Gook! Gook!” Over and over again.

The woman looks at Josh. “Great, thanks a lot mister!”

Josh says, “Uh-oh.”

“Gook-Gook!”

Mom says, “Okay-okay! Pipe down you two, the nice man is going to give you a cookie.”

Josh steps behind the counter and the parents try to quiet the mini demons. Once each toddler has a sugar cookie, the lady in the hairnet, comes to the rescue. The Mother tells her, “I need a dozen kosher buns please.”

Josh comes around the counter and hands me a cookie wrapped in waxed paper. “Something to tide you over.”

“Thanks, I’ll save it for later. I am starving, but I should save my appetite. It’s my birthday and my dad is at home preparing one of his elaborate––”

“Hey, happy birthday,” Josh blurts out, interrupting me this time, and gives me a quick one armed hug. “Seventeen right?”

I grip my shoulder bag. “Yes I am!”

Shoppers in line at the bakery counter, look our way so we move down the cakes and pies aisle, which is completely void of people for the moment. Josh gets in my face and says, “I'm older than you, I turned seventeen last March.” He sticks his tongue out. He's standing so close I can see the tiny black hairs on his chin.

“Well, happy belated birthday,” I say, and one arm hug him back. Tit for tat. I haven't had this much fun with a guy in like, forever.

“Thanks, but I wish it was eighteen. I could work as a cop in Florida next year.”

I blink. “You're moving?”

“Yes, ma'am, I'm going to the University of Florida next year.”

“Oh.”

Josh's stomach growls and he pats his flat belly. “Damn, I'm starving too. I should've taken a lunch break, but I wanted to put in my hours, make sure I finish all my work, and then blow this joint with a clear conscience!”

I halfway listen and dream about what it would be living in Florida. If I work hard and make good grades, I could probably apply to the University of Florida...

We stop walking. “Be right back.” Josh says, ducking through a pair of swinging doors and I glance around. I'm completely alone at the back of the store at the Meat Department. Funny I don't remember walking here. I pick up a package of ground round and prop my backside on the display case. I’m really tempted to invite Josh over for dinner. There’s going to be way too much food for just Pop and me. Hum, should I? Forget it, it’s Saturday night, he’s probably got a date. Besides, I can’t take any more rejection. It's just that in my dream, I was kissing Josh, passionately, now here he is and looking fine. That fact is screwing with my hormones. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I wonder if Josh knows about my relationship with Sean Palmer...

Josh returns wiping his hands on a brown paper towel. I guess he had to see a man about a dog. I wave a package of ground round. “It's on sale, buy one get one free,” Josh says, and drops the paper towel in a receptacle.

“Good deal, but...”

He stands there looking me.

“What, do I have something on my face?” I swipe at my mouth wondering what was there. Crusty cinnamon bun?

“No, when I came though the door just now, you looked like something was bothering you”

“No, not at all I...I...actually I was just––” I clamp my mouth shut and drop my eyes. My head is really starting to hurt. What's wrong with me?

“You should eat something Cookie. You're looking a little pale.”

“Huh?” I open my eyes and touch my face. I dare to look into Josh’s brown eyes and my heart skips a beat. For the life of me I can’t figure out why I’m acting like such an idiot around him. I’ve know him for years. “I’m okay.”

“A healthy diet and exercise is everything. Food is fuel, you're running on empty.”

Now that I think of it, I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast. I feel the start of a headache and rub the scar on my temple. I grimace. Underneath the scare I feel a slight twinge of pain, I never noticed before.

Josh says, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to…make you uncomfortable sounding all preachy...”

“No, it's not you.” Time to change the subject. “I just have a lot on my mind with my birthday and school starting again...” I drop my hand and stand. “I guess I was just gonna say that over the summer my life was pretty boring, for lack of a better word. What is really bugging me is I need to find a job. Are they hiring here?”

Josh nods his head knowingly. “Believe me working at Safeway isn’t all that thrilling.” A smile plays at the corner of his mouth. “Other than getting the opportunity to scare the hell out of some kids trying to snatch a box of Snickers and watching an old lady stuff a roast in her girdle—whew, that visual is forever burned in my memory.”

I laugh.

“All in all, I can't complain. It was nice making a little spending money and packing some of it away for whatever. He takes the package of ground round from me and looks at it. “So you want to grab another package?”

“Huh? No, I was just...all I need is baking powder.”

“So, what happens when two burgers fall in love?”

“I give.”

“They live together in holy meatrimony!”

“That was really bad.”

“The butcher here is full of meat jokes.” He pauses. “Anyway, I know you need to get home to your birthday dinner. At the risk of sounding redundant, I’ll say it again. It’s really-really good seeing you. You look tre magnifique!”

“Thanks, really.” I laugh and glance down at the silly Hello Kitty character on the front of my shirt. Now I wish I’d changed into something less juvenile. To take the heat off me, I make a muscle with my right arm. “Hey, so do you, I mean, you look like you spent some major time in the gym.”

Now Josh's face colors a little. “I didn't think you noticed.”

“I meant to mention that before.”

“Yeah, well, in reality, my former self used to hate exercise. My dad rigged up a weight set in our garage years ago hoping I would take interest in lifting. He’s out there regularly, never misses. Over the summer he said if I was serious about working in law enforcement, I better to get my nose out of the books and bulk up. So I did.” He lifts his shirt a little and shows me his six-pack.

“Impressive. I’m probably totally out of shape.” I pat my stomach and smile at Josh. “You've inspired me. I’m definitely going to the pool and do some laps.” Now I feel guilty about dropping summer swim practice. All I did was mope around the house and feel sorry for my self.

Josh bends forward and his voice softens to a whisper, “Cookie, I wanted to come by and see you this summer, but I figured you needed more time. You know…”

“Really, I’m okay.” I smile. He’s sweet. Suddenly it feels very late. I glace at my bare wrist, and then look around for a wall clock. I don’t even own a watch since mine died. Maybe Pop got me a nice one for my birthday.

Josh holds up his arm to show me an elaborate watch that tells you what time it is in, like, five countries. “Nice, uh, which one is U-S time?” I lean forward, touching him lightly on the wrist to check the time. Sparks run up my arm, and I quickly pull back my hand. He doesn’t seem to notice.

“It is exactly six forty eight and nine seconds, Eastern Time,” he says, consulting his watch.

“Oh wow, I need to scoot. Pop'll call out the Calvary.” Still savoring the tingling in my finger tips, I fold my hands prayer-like under my chin and take a step backwards, bowing like a geisha girl. “Tell your dad how much we appreciated his help Josh, I mean with the crowd control.” I pat my shoulder bag. “I still have his card in my wallet.”

“I will, as soon as he gets back. He’s in Florida training. He’s been promoted to the M-P department.

I give him a surprised look. “What’s M-P?” I slide my hand in my pocket and feel the slip of paper. I take it out and look at my handwriting.

“Missing Persons, you know like—”

“Wish I could stay and chat some more, but I really need to go.” I turn too quickly and feel a little woozy from lack of food. The headache is really bad now. I will take some aspirin when I get home and be just fine.

“I understand, see you at school next week,” Josh calls and I wave tentatively, taking a few small backward steps, and then wave again as I turn to go around the corner. I pause. “Hey, I, um, don’t mean to bother you anymore, but do you know where they hide the baking powder in this store? It’s why I came here in the first place.”

Josh motions over my shoulder. “Head toward the front of the store. Look on aisle six—top shelf, above the flour and sugar sacks.”

I go around the corner and run smack into a metal floor display full of wine bottles. They clank nosily together, but, luckily, nothing falls of the shelves and breaks.

“Oh, wow...that was close!” I say, steadying the ones on the outside. Josh runs to my rescue.

“You okay?”

“I just realized I’m off work in two minuets. I’ll walk you over to the spice aisle; it’s near the time clock.”

“Okay great.” I get the feeling Josh doesn’t want me to go. Fine by me. Not like I have anything pressing other than bringing Pop a can of baking power. How thrilling is that?

“Baking powder is right there,” Josh points, and then pulls the strings on his apron, biceps bulge with the movement. “I'll be right back.” I watch him pull his work apron over his head, messing up his thick black curls, and then wad it into a ball. He raises his arm, slam-dunks it into an empty roll cart and goes through the door marked 'Employees Only'.

I can’t get over how confident Josh acts. He looks incredible! Not that he was ever unattractive, just way too thin and shy as a butterfly. I reach up and take down three little red cans like the one Pop showed me. My father has taught me to buys everything in threes, so much for that theory.

At the check-out counter, we side by side and Josh nudges me. “Hey…can you believe it? We’re finally going to be seniors this year.” He raises his palms over his head pumping his arms enthusiastically.

“I know,” I say, in a little excited voice, and think I’m not sure what’s going to happen, but it has to be better than last year.

“Well this year can't go fast enough for me. I can’t wait to graduate from college, and work full time in computer crime. New technology is being invented practically everyday.”

“So, sounds like 'computer crime is the future. Make sense. I recall you telling me a long time ago that you wanted to work in Investigative Sciences,” I state, shocked that I actually remembered our conversation, after all these years. “I-S. Right.” Josh beams at me. “Remember Biology together?”

“Sure do, Boy Genius.”

He laughs. “I haven’t been called that in years. Man, you don’t forget anything.”

“That will be four-eighty six,” the cashier tells me.

I turn and pay the cashier with the fiver left from the fifty, and then tap my forehead. “I have a memory like an elephant.”

Josh’s fancy watch alarm goes off. It sounds like a police siren. He turns it off and backs up explaining that he’s late for an important engagement. Before I have a chance to say anything, he dashes out the door and disappears.

I collect my change and look down at the floor expecting to find a size eleven glass tennis shoe sitting there.