Hud AKA Superman
I sighed as I folded the paper back up and stuck it in my pocket. Why were men so stupid sometimes? He might’ve thought he was doing the right thing, but he wasn’t. And I planned on letting him know just how off base he was as soon as he walked through those doors. Which, according to Marge, was going to be in “fifteen minutes.”
I patted my other pocket to make sure the item I’d picked up this morning was still there. It was, but I noticed my hands were damp with perspiration. I rubbed them on my legs, but it didn’t really help since I was wearing cutoffs and I’d overdone it just a little bit on my lotion application this morning. My legs looked like they’d been greased down for a Hawaiian Tropics competition. I thought about going into the bathroom to wipe some of it off, but since the fifteen minute window was still in effect, I stayed put.
My entire plan hinged on me surprising him when he walked in. Well, that wasn’t true. I could probably surprise him just as easily if he was at his desk, or even at his squad car. But this is where I’d played the scene out in my mind about a hundred times in the last three hours, so this is where it was going to go down.
I’d even memorized a small speech. I’d imagined several different responses he might have, and my responses to them. The script was written, and the location had been scouted; no bathroom lotion removal break for me.
Glancing down, my second and third guessing transferred to my clothes. The jury was still out as to whether or not I’d chosen the right outfit for this occasion. My first instinct had been a summer dress, for two reasons. First, the situation warranted a little class, and second, the last two times I’d worn them (i.e. yesterday and last Wednesday) I’d gotten lucky. If there was ever a day I wanted lady luck on my side, this was it.
I’d had two contenders laid out on the bed when a little voice in my head reminded me what my brothers had always called “Southern boys lingerie,” which was cutoff jeans and a tank top, ala Daisy Duke. I’d heard all of them say that there was nothing hotter than a girl in jean shorts, cowboy boots, and low cut shirt. Since my plan, or ambush—tomayto, tomahto—was going to take place in public, I couldn’t very well wear a teddy from Victoria’s Secret, but I could slap on my best cutoffs, boots, and a tank top.
So that’s what I’d gone with. And now, here I sat. Waiting.
Not having anything else to do, I pulled out my phone to check my hair. Again. Yep. It was still there.
As I put my phone back I noticed some commotion behind the counter, which had glass that went all the way to the ceiling. People were talking on radios and codes were being thrown around. I watched like it was an episode of CSI, since it was the only action I’d seen in hours.
If I weren’t so jacked up on nerves, I would’ve been bored out of my mind. Destiny and Cara had both told me that I should download some movies to watch on my phone while I waited, since there was no WiFi access at the station, but had I listened? Nope. I’d been too caught up in what I was wearing and planning what I was going to say.
My flair towards the dramatic had been a running joke in my family. Growing up, my brothers and parents all thought I was going to be an actress. I thought it might happen, too. It was definitely heading in that direction for a hot minute.
When I was twelve I got the coveted lead of Mary in the Christmas play. I loved it all. Learning my lines, rehearsals, fittings, lights, costumes…everything. Unfortunately, I never made it to the big show. At dress rehearsal my understudy, Isabella (Bella) Conner, and I were sitting backstage and her aunt, who was an awful human being, came back and told her that she better hope and pray nothing happened to me because if Bella had to go up on the stage, it would ruin the entire performance. I’ll never forget the look in Bella’s eyes when her aunt had said those words.