Fuck you! Crazy lady magazine!
Dove wanted to cry. This was the worst twenty minutes in her entire existence. After all her semiclandestine feminine product acquisitions, she was facing everything she worked to protect herself against. And the drop-dead gorgeous pharmacist had witnessed it all.
He knew her vagina was sensitive to products and that it was itching. Dove contemplated the magazine again. She wondered if she could actually paper cut herself to death while sitting in the waiting area.
Mr. Fitzwell called her name. “Ms. Glitch? Your GYNAZULE? is ready.”
She grabbed her purse and stomped over to the counter. He was smiling at her, ready to ring up her purchase. “You might want to grab some probiotics to go with this. Fight the infection from the inside and the outside.”
Dove just stood and stared at him. She rarely got angry and certainly not over womanly products with a man, but she’d had enough.
“Listen, Mr. Fitzwell!” She slammed her purse down in front of him, and he blinked in surprise. “For future reference, when a lady hands you a script like that?” She pointed to the crinkly bag he was holding. “Go get one of the assistants to handle it. No one wants to talk about her ‘vaginal walls’ ”—she mimicked his V-shaped hand motion from earlier—“with a dude!”
Dove let out a satisfied breath.
I told him. Good for me.
She didn’t expect his hurt expression and dejected nodding. His loud voice was quiet, finally.
“Of course, ma’am. I’m very sorry.”
He motioned for her to sign the screen in front of her to accept the prescription. She hated the look on his face—like he was a puppy and she had just kicked him. She took the bag from his hands, careful not to touch his beautiful, long fingers. She couldn’t leave him all dejected and dragging.
“It’s okay. I overreacted. I get mean when I’m embarrassed.”
Instead of helping he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Great job, Fitzwell. Living the dream now, you big fool.” He ran a hand through his perfect hair. He was talking to himself.
Dove bit her lip, and he used her pause to explain himself more. “This is my first day as a pharmacist. I just wanted to be really thorough and make sure you were comfortable with the medicine. I did a great job with that, huh?”
She had been angry with him, but now she had compassion. This was his dream, and she was probably the worst customer to have right out of the gate.
Dove smiled at him. “It’s okay, Mr. Fitzwell. I think you’re going to make a great pharmacist.”
He looked at her doubtfully.
“No, really, you will.” She reached out and patted his hand to solidify her message.
They both felt the spark—an actual, blue, snapping spark. Dove’s wool jacket, combined with the pharmacy rug, had turned her into a walking electrical appliance. They both pulled their hands away from the contact, shaking their fingers.
“Damn!” Mr. Fitzwell stepped a few feet away from the counter and her.
Dove laughed; it was clear nothing here was going to go well.
“Well, I guess you got me back. I hope you feel better soon, Ms. Glitch.” He was smiling at her laughter. At least they could end the experience with a bit of joy. His teeth were pearly white and straight, and there was a hint of a dimple. Her uterus swooned.
“Call me Dove. You already know so much about me.” She held out her hand formally.
He gave her a huge smile and went about the most awkward handshake of her life. He touched her palm with his first finger. When there was no shock, he flicked her finger to get rid of any latent electricity.
“Ow!” She winced. His thumping forefinger made her fingers curl into her hand.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m making a mess of this, but it’s just that I hate shocks.” He finally grasped her hand, but it was before she could completely unclamp her fingers, so he wound up shaking her claw.
“I’m Johnson. Thanks for being my first customer and breaking me in.”
He seemed like he was about to release her hand when she dropped her prescription bag between them. They both reached for it at the same time and clanked foreheads together like drunken sumo wrestlers.
“Damn it!” Dove staggered backward.
Johnson put his hands to his head, wincing in pain. The assistants tried to stop giggling, but lost their battle. Dove scooped up the bag and backed away from the disastrous transaction.
“Well, Johnson, I might remember nothing at all after that whack, but my head won’t forget when you banged me.”
Oh, holy piss cushions. I just said he banged me. Like ‘sex’ bang.
Johnson reached into the little pharmacy refrigerator and pulled out the first bottle he laid his hands on. He pressed it against the slight contusion on his forehead.