Smiling at Everything

Jazz walked down the candy aisle of Wal-Mart, staring at the brightly colored candy packets, smiling the way she did anytime she was in public. Contrary to popular belief, she didn't eat candy often. She didn't even like the sugar-filled substance that much. Candy did nothing to keep her awake when she truly needed it to. The taste of candy wasn't completely satisfying to her pallet. The consistency often left a nasty aftertaste in her mouth, as did regular sodas. After eating them, she felt gross and sluggish. She didn't see a point in eating fruit flavored candies when she could just eat fruit. Candy in general just seemed pointless.

She used to love chocolate. But then he happened. She couldn't eat it without thinking of him, without remembering. One day, she would forget and be able to eat chocolate again.

Maybe.

However, she adored Sour Patch Kids. As the commercial stated "first they're sour; then they're sweet." She found them much more enjoyable than sour gummy worms or any other sour gummy candies. And, if she ate enough of them, she could get a slight sugar high. They were the only candies that she could eat bags of and she would like to have them for the tour.

Jazz stopped in front of the shelf where the Sour Patch Kids were supposed to reside. The section designated to her sweet and sour obsession was empty, completely void of what she needed. Jazz stared at the empty section in disbelief. This wasn't possible. This was Wal-Mart; they always had Sour Patch Kids.

Her eyes darted around the mass amount of gummy candies, searching for any trace of the treat she so desired. There were none anywhere in the aisle.

"Looking for something?" a smooth voice floated to her ears.

Jazz turned her head to face the owner of the voice. Zack was leaned over his shopping cart, one eyebrow cocked.

"What are you doing here?" Jazz asked.

"Getting food for the tour," Zack responded.

Jazz looked at the contents of his basket. Her eyes immediately widened at the amount of Sour Patch Kids containers.

"You took all the Sour Patch Kids," Jazz whined.

"I like Sour Patch Kids."

"Jerk."

"We're on the same bus, does it matter who took them all?"

"Are you going to share them?"

"Yes."

"Then I guess it doesn't matter," Jazz returned to her happy demeanor.

Zack rolled his eyes. He could tell her happiness was at least somewhat forced. She couldn't be that happy about Sour Patch Kids or grocery shopping. No one was that happy about grocery shopping.

"So what are you getting besides Sour Patch Kids?" Zack asked.

"Energy drinks and Hot Pockets. Dante and Lestat tend to take care of getting anything healthy for the bus rides."

Lestat and Dante were the only ones to care about keeping everyone in the band healthy over tour. Neon would probably start acting the same way. The lead singer once focused all her energy on making sure her sibling was healthy. She didn't do it anymore since Jack took that job over. But she had two babies, Neon was in mother-mode.

"You don't happen to like the four cheese pizza flavored ones do you?" Zack asked.

"Yeah, I do. Why do you ask?"

"No reason. Just don't hit up the frozen food section."

Zack shifted from one foot to the other. The smile on his face was clearly one of nervousness. Jazz didn't know why he was reacting like that nor why he told her not to go to the frozen food section.

"Why shouldn't," Jazz trailed off, realization hitting her, "You took all of my favorite Hot Pockets."

"In my defense, I didn't know they were your favorite."

Jazz giggled, "Its okay. I'll just steal some from you when I get hungry."

"Little girl, you do not come between a man and his Hot Pockets."

"I can take you."

"Have you seen these guns?" Zack flexed his arms.

Oh, she had seen those guns. She examined them many times when he wasn't paying attention. Or she thought he wasn't paying attention. Jazz appreciated every muscle on Zack's body.

She saw her fascination with Zack's physical appearance as a sign that she was moving on. If it had been a few years prior, she wouldn't have even looked at another man or woman as anything but a way to make herself look like she was mentally stable.

"I don't think you can handle me," Zack continued.

"I don't need to handle you. You're going to give me a Hot Pocket if I want one," Jazz responded.

"If you think you can rely on being cute to get Hot Pockets, you are sadly mistaken."

"I can wrestle you for them."

An image of Jazz straddling his waist, pinning his arms above his head, filled Zack's head. He could imagine the way her thighs would tighten around his waist to get him to surrender, the way their personal areas would rub together. He never thought wrestling would get him excited.

Zack opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by his phone ringing. Jazz watched him fish into his back pocket and extract his cell phone. He glanced over the caller id, slid the phone open, and placed it to his ear.

"What do you want?" Zack asked.

Jazz could hear the voice of person on the other end but couldn't decipher the words they were saying. Zack must have had his phone volume turned up high. If she were closer, she would likely hear what the person on the other end was saying.

"We're having practice today? But we're leaving in a couple of days. Shouldn't you guys be packing like responsible adults?" Zack asked.

The voice on the other end answered him; Zack rolled his eyes.

"Of course Rian told you the same thing. We feel the need to make sure you hormonal assholes do what needs to get done."

Jazz giggled, a real giggle, one she didn't know she was capable of. She noticed that most of the smiles during her conversation with Zack weren't forced. The mild flirting wasn't either. When he wasn't commenting on her secret emotional depth or talking about sensitive subjects, she felt relaxed around him.

As long as he had her smiling, she could relax around him.

"Fine, Papa Gaskarth, I'm leaving Wal-Mart now," Zack hung up the call.

"What was that about?" Jazz asked.

"Alex decided to call a last minute practice."

"I guess you should get going then."

"Because I can't piss off his royal majesty," Zack grumbled.

"It was nice talking to you."

"You too. I'll see you in couple of days."

"Be prepared to give up your Hot Pockets."

"In your dreams."

"Well, I must be living in a dream world because you're going to give me those Hot Pockets."

Zack laughed, "Not in this lifetime, Jazz."

"That's what you think."

"We'll finish this on the tour bus. I have to go before Alex calls back and complains about me being late."

"Okay, I'll be ready."

Zack chuckled, "Bye Jazz."

Jazz mumbled a "bye" and watched Zack leave the aisle. She didn't know what it was about Zack that made her act the way she did. Maybe she was truly getting over the past events. Maybe she would actually be able to sleep for a full night without nightmares soon.

Whatever the reason, it didn't matter at the moment. Her goal for the day was to shop for the tour. Thanks to Zack, the only thing left on her list was energy drinks, assuming he didn't take all of those too.

When she was done, she would go home and play her piano to sort her thoughts.