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Mimsey continued walking down the sidewalk as if
she hadn’t heard him. That pissed him off, as she knew it would. It was
hard to keep her smile to herself. if the guy was trying to disguise
it, or if it was natural. If it was, the man needed to lay off the drugs
or cigarettes, or both.
A hand grabbed her purse and tried to jerk it
off her arm. His actions made her drop her two bags of groceries and
whirled her around to where she could see him.
“Gimme the fuckin’ purse!”
Calmly, she stared the man in the eye and let a
cold smile lift the corners of her lips. “Now why would you want me to
do that?” First she’d play with him a little. It was fun to watch what
these people would do before she lowered the boom on them.
The guy appeared confused. He gave her purse
strap a jerk. “Hand it over, bitch!” For good measure, he removed the
pistol he’d been fingering in his pocket and presented it to her. An
intimidation tactic meant to frighten her. He didn’t know he’d picked
the wrong old woman to target. Seeing her eye his piece, he grinned and
chuckled. “I’m not foolin’ around.”
Tilting her head to the side, Mimsey gave him a
look of disapproval. “My, oh my. What would your mother say if she knew
you were robbing old ladies?” As she’d hoped, a flush came over the
young man’s face. He started to reply when she dropped the frail and
elderly routine. “Let go of me, or incur my wrath.”
His eyes widened in disbelief. “Whut?”
Calmly, she repeated, “Let go of me, or you’ll
incur my wrath.”
“Your
wrath?
What the fuck!” The silver gun was rammed into her chest. She
felt the barrel bruise the skin between her breasts. A thumb cocked back
the hammer.
The weapon clicked emptily.
It took him a moment and a half to realize the
gun hadn’t fired, but it didn’t deter him. Raising his arm, he was
prepared to bring it down either across her face or head, when Mimsey
softly stated, “Stop.”
Shock enveloped the man’s features with the
realization that he couldn’t move a muscle. He remained frozen in place,
hand and arm upraised, the other hand grasping her purse strap. But he
could move his eyes, and he used them to glare at her. He could also use
his mouth, and he uttered an expletive she hadn’t heard in a couple of
days.
“Are you going to leave me alone? Or do I need
to teach you a lesson?” she calmly asked.
“Fuck you, bitch!”
Chuckling, she told him, “Shoot your foot.”
The man’s eyes widened as his hand inexorably
swiveled at the wrist of its own accord. The gun went off, and a screech
of pain erupted from him.
“Now, leave. Run as fast as you can to the
nearest hospital. Oh, and when you get there, turn your gun over to the
authorities,” she ordered.
The guy jerked around like a marionette without
strings and took off, leaving a blood trail in his wake. Mimsey watched
him until he hobbled around the corner of the building and disappeared
from view.
Turning around, she spotted a woman across the
street, walking her dog. Or had been. Now she stood with mouth agape at
what she’d just witnessed. Mimsey waved a hand at her, picked up her
bags, and continued on her way.
When she reached her apartment complex, she
hurried up the steps to the second floor. A flick of her fingers
unlocked the front door in lieu of having to use a key. Once she was
inside, the door automatically closed and locked behind her.
“Did you remember to get some bananas?” a
high-pitched voice inquired. Over in the corner where his tree was set
up, a little face stared at her with expectancy.
Mimsey rolled her eyes as she dumped the sacks
on the kitchen table. “Zeus’s balls! I forgot them!”
“You didn’t put it on the list?”
She checked the magnetic notepad attached to the
front of the fridge. Bananas wasn’t written on it. “Nope.”
The little face fell, the happy expression
disappearing.
“Don’t you have enough fruit to last you until
tomorrow?” she asked. Not waiting for an answer, she bade the
refrigerator to open and checked for herself. The crisper was emptier
than Medusa’s bed.
Mimsey mentally threw up her hands. She really
didn’t want to go back out to battle the crowds and the traffic for a
bunch of bananas. However, she could arrange for one of her neighbors to
come over and offer a couple as a gesture of friendship.
She waved her arms over her head, then proceeded
to put the groceries away. But when she was done, there had been no
knock on the door.
“Guess no one nearby has any bananas,” Nim drily
remarked, knowing what she’d tried to do.
“You know, you could go and buy some yourself,”
Mimsey shot back, grimacing. “Of course, you’d starve to death before
you reached the sidewalk.”
Nim lifted his nose in disdain instead of
answering, but not before she caught the wave of sadness emanating from
the little creature.
“All right! All right! I’ll go back and get your
bananas. How about a mango or two while I’m at it?”
Nim peered out from underneath a broad leaf.
“Mango?”
“I’ll look for one, but I can’t promise
anything.”
“Oh, yes, you can,” Nim argued.
Mimsey rolled
her eyes. Yes, she could. Grabbing her purse, she slipped the strap over
her head where it rested diagonally across her chest. “Make this worth
my while. Are we needing anything else while I’m out? Because when I
return, I’m staying put for the weekend and vegging out on reruns of
The Golden Girls.”
Nim slowly shook his head, as he usually did.
“Not that I can think of.”
Giving a little snort, Mimsey bade the door open
and headed back out amid the populace.
She made good time returning to the small corner
grocery store. Mrs. Albinsinio glanced up from the register and waved at
her. “Back so soon, Mrs. Goddess?”
“Forgot bananas!” Mimsey replied, and turned
down the first aisle toward the area where the fruits and vegetables
were displayed.
She stopped dead in her tracks when she caught
sight of the silver-haired man investigating the bin of cantaloupe.
Partly amused and somewhat curious, she stood back and watched as he
sniffed the one in his hand, put it back on the pile, and chose another.
As he pondered over the fruit, she was able to study him. He had a nice
aura about him, which told her he was a good man. Kind-hearted, but he
could also be ruthless if he needed to be. The glow reminded her of the
one she’d seen around Alexander the Great. Strong, driven, yet in a lot
of ways, not quite cognizant of what he could accomplish.
He was a man who hadn’t yet found either his
full or real potential.
For the cherry on top, he wasn’t bad to look at.
Late forties or early fifties. Scruffy day’s growth of beard, dark with
sprinkles of gray. Nice build. And tall. Maybe two meters tall, give or
take a few centimeters.
The man put the cantaloupe down and moved over
to where the grapes were located. He must have caught sight of her from
the corner of his eye, and glanced up. A wry grin creased his face. “You
caught me,” he remarked. Nice voice. Baritone.
“Can’t decide what to get?” she lightly asked.
He waved a hand over the produce. “I’m not fruit
savvy. I can’t tell if it’s ripe or still green.”
“Care for a tip or two?” she offered. The grin broadened into a warm
smile. “I’d appreciate the help, if you don’t mind.”
Mimsey walked over to the other side of the bin.
“I’ll do what I can. What do you need to know?”
“Are the cantaloupes ripe?”
She smiled and picked up the one he’d sniffed.
“For starters, sniffing it is a good indicator,” she began. “You can
also—”
“Everybody! Down on the floor! Get down!” a
young sounding voice yelled from the front of the store.
Mimsey rolled her eyes and silently groaned.
Sweet Olympus,
here we go again.
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