Undeniably In Denial

Work sucks, plain and simple. I hate it so much; or at least my job. I work in a mall in New Jersey. Well, technically I work in a teen’s clothing store, but it is in our town’s mall. Wherever it is, it still sucks.

I looked up at the clock and sighed. At least I have a 45 minute break I can take whenever I want. I unhooked my name badge, threw it into my hoodie pocket, and walked over to my boss, who was rearranging some clothes that probably didn’t even need rearranging. “Hey, Rhonda, I’m taking my break,” I told her, running a hand through my dark brown hair.

“Alright, just be back in 45 minutes,”

“If I’m not, I’m probably dead,”

“Oh, goody,”

“Screw you,”

“You wouldn’t,” she smirked. “You’re gay, remember?”

“Whatever, I’m off,” I waved, turning around and walking out the door, chuckling. That’s one part of my job that I actually look forward to; messing around with Rhonda. She’s one of the best bosses you could ever wish for and she’ll joke around with you like you’re her best friend, even if she barely knows you. She’s just overall awesome like that.

I was glad to leave work even for just a little bit, but I had to go straight to another clothing store, very similar to the one I work at, for my sister, so I still had to be around stupid people and the smell of teen stores and preppy people. As I walked through the doors, I was blasted with that familiar scent of preppy girls and boys trying to fit in by dressing in clothes that are “in-style” now, but will be out of style in a year or so. It makes me want to throw up though, because they still smell like preps, but they dress like I have for 6 years. Now, you may be wondering how preppy people can have a smell of their own, but believe me, they have one. And it reeks.

It didn’t take me long to find these shoes my sister wanted, because, well, they were bright-ass orange and had about a three inch heel. Though, to be honest, I’d probably wear them if I were a girl. Or at least attempt to wear them. Anyways, I picked out a size seven – even though I know my sister wears at least an eight – and took them over to the checkout counter. When I set them down, I noticed that the guy behind the counter was sort of hiding himself behind his hair as he read his book. Actually, it was quite adorable the way his brown bangs fell in front of his eyes. He must have been really into whatever book he was reading because he didn’t even notice I was standing there.

“Good book, I’m guessing?” I asked, leaning on my elbow, watching for his reaction.

“Holy fudge-monkeys!” he yelled, throwing his book up into the air as he practically jumped out of his skin. When his book came back down, it nearly hit him in the head, but he slid out of the way just in time. “You just scared the crap out of me!” he laughed.

“Um, sorry?” I asked, laughing at the look on his face and the few strands of hair that were sticking out at weird angles.

“Oh, no, it’s okay. Just, uh, try not to do it again,” he chuckled, holding his hand over his heart like that would help slow its pace down.

“Will do,” I assured him. “Or rather, won’t do, I guess.”

“Okay, so, yea, back to my job now,” he said, smiling at me briefly before ringing up my sister’s death shoes. “So, are these for a girlfriend or something?” the guy asked, trying to make small talk probably.

“Well, I’d have to say no on that one,”

“Single?”

“And gay,”

“Oh, so are you a cross dresser? Or are these for someone else?”

“No, no, no, no, no. These are for my sister,”

“Oh, okay…that makes more sense now; you don’t strike me as the cross-dressing type. But hey, you never know these days,”

"So true," I chuckled. "My sister once dated this big macho football player, until she walked in on him wearing a wig and prancing around the room in high heels."

"Really?"

"Well, no, but I could see something like that happening to her,"

"Okay, I was going to say, that would have been doubly weird, because that happened to my aunt a few months ago," the guy laughed.

"Seriously?"

"One hundred percent,"

"That's rough. And probably quite awkward, I'd imagine,"

"Oh I'm sure it was. She said it was one of the most shocking moments of her life. Kind of like the price of these shoes; yikes. This must be one great sister you have. These things come up to $47.31," he said, putting them in a bag.

"She better be paying me back for these soon," I grumbled to nobody in particular while I pulled out my money from my wallet.

"These aren't a gift?"

"Nope, she saw them the other day while she was in here but didn't have the money with her. So being the nice brother I am, I told her I'd pick them up for me while I was on break one day if she paid me back later," I explained.

"Ah, I see. Well, seeing as how you're on break and all, I guess I'll let you get going,"

"Oh, well, before I go, what's your name? I don't want to have to refer to you as 'checkout guy' when I tell my sister about this and murder her,"

He laughed and said, "Reese. Reese Karman. And you?"

"Camron Dole. Like the fruit cup," I chuckled. "It was nice meeting ya, Reese."

"Same to you Camron,"



"Jumbo Mocha Slusher," I told the girl at the mall’s coffee kiosk for the fourth time. It was three weeks after I had to buy those death shoes for my sister, and she still hadn’t paid me back for them, so I’m still out fifty bucks, which sucks.

"Sorry Britt, I gotta go. Some idiot keeps saying the same four words over and over again. Yea, I know, right? Okay, okay, yea totally! Yea, bye girlfriend!"

"Jumbo Mocha Slusher is three words you dipshit," I muttered under my breath. She didn't hear me though, so that was a good thing. I was getting ready to just leave like the three people in front of me and the two behind me in line all because this ditz wouldn't get off the freaking phone.

"Can I help you?" she asked, with one of the snottiest tones I've ever heard in my life. Well, excuse me for interrupting your little convo with 'Britt' I thought, mentally snorting.

"Yea, I'd like the Large Mocha Slusher I've been ordering for the past five minutes if that's not too difficult,"

"No need to get pissy,"

I wanted to say something so bad to that, but I held my breath instead. It took her forever to get my drink, and when she did, she gave me one of the fakest smiles I've ever seen in my life. I groaned to myself and walked over to the table farthest away from the coffee kiosk to finally eat my sandwich. Sometimes people make me wonder how I haven't already killed myself. Don't get me wrong, I'm not depressed or suicidal or anything like that, but ignorant, rude people just make me want to off myself a lot of the times.

"Mind if I sit here? All the other tables are basically taken," some guy asked me a few minutes later.

I had a bite of sandwich in my mouth so I had to swallow it first before I could answer him. "Yea, go ahead," I said, once I could talk. He smiled and sat down, setting his pizza and coffee down on the table.

"Thanks. I - I remember you. You're the guy that bought those death shoes for your sister a few weeks ago. Camron right?"

"Nope, sorry. My name's David. You must be talking about my twin brother. His name is Camron," I said, just screwing around with him, trying to see how gullible he was.

"Really? Because I'm pretty sure Camron was wearing those shoes and that shirt when he bought the shoes. Are you sure you're David?"

"Of course. We share clothes all the time. That way we only have to buy half the clothes we would have to buy. We wear the same size and everything,"

"Really?"

"Oh yea. It just works out like that,"

"No, I meant are you really Camron's brother?"

"Yea…no, not really. I am Camron,"

"I thought so..."

"And you're Reese, right? I would say it's nice to meet you, but I've already met you. So I guess I should say it's nice to see you again,"

"Right back at you," Reese laughed, probably at the fact that I was rambling on and on. But that was partially because of the coffee. He took a bit of his pepperoni pizza and chewed thoughtfully before asking, "Have you ever noticed how cold it gets in this mall sometimes?"

"Yea, you're right. Like right now; it's colder than African butt sex in here,"

"How is African butt sex any colder than Asian or Puerto Rican, or American butt sex?"

"I don't know, it just is," I laughed, taking a sip of my drink.

"If you were going to use butt sex as a cold analogy, you should have said Antarctican or Alaskan instead,"

"I once dated a guy from Alaska," I mused, thinking about my short, awkward relationship with Nathaniel Dyson in eighth grade.

"Do I even want to know?" Reese laughed, probably thinking I was making a reference to Alaskan butt sex.

"It's nothing bad. In short though, eighth grade, two months, and a mutual, friendly breakup,"

"Oh, okay. I thought you were going to say something about Alaskan butt sex," See, I figured as much, and I was right.

"Nope, don't worry. No weird sex stories...today," I joked.

"Really? Only for today?"

"No, I'm only kidding. I don't kiss and tell, so to speak," I reassured him with a soft smile.