I looked at her. “Well, I thought Reese’s were a better choice,” I explained.
“Yes, but Reese’s are hugely similar to M&Ms and I’m not suggesting we rule out either of those—I’m simply saying we need more variety, and we need variety in the form of Milk Duds,” she reasoned.
I nodded. “Duly noted.” I turned to the kid at the counter, who was standing patiently—I think—waiting for us to decide. “Add Milk Duds onto that,” I requested.
“And two diet Cokes,” she added quickly.
I slapped my forehead and turned to her in mock seriousness. “How could I forget the liquid, which of course needs to be diet to balance out all of the calories in our snacks?” I asked.
She patted my shoulder affectionately. “I got your back, Mom.” She turned to Zane, “What do you want to drink, Zane?”
He was staring at us with a strange look on his face. It wasn’t the glower he reserved for me, nor was it the slightly softer version of mad murderer that Lexie was treated to. This was different. The edge of his mouth turned up slightly, and if I didn’t know better I would have thought he was...amused?
“I’m good, Lex,” he answered finally.
I also liked, despite myself, how he called my daughter “Lex.” It was familiar and seemed like his way of expressing affection. I didn’t know why I should like the big, bad, biker from next door to be calling my daughter by affectionate nicknames but I did. I also liked the fact I was standing at the snack counter with the big, bad, and friggin’ hot biker from next door. I chose to forget the fact we were practically holding him hostage and manipulating him with Lexie’s puppy dog stare.
She widened her eyes at him. “You have to have a soda when watching a movie. It’s like a rule. Soda and crazy amounts of sugary snacks. It’s all part of the experience,” she told him, like going to the movies was tantamount to climbing Mt Everest.
The side of his mouth ticked up again, and this time I was sure. It was amusement. Amusement, people! The staunch, hugely scary, muscled biker had a sense of humor, deep down underneath all that muscle and menace.
“Don’t drink soda, kid.”
Lexie’s mouth dropped open at this. “I don’t usually drink soda either. With the exception of when I’m at the movies, having a movie night, or at a ballgame. It’s not good for you, but you’ve got to indulge every now and then. It’s good for the soul,” she informed him sagely, as if she was the Yoda of the soda consumption world.
“Dollybird, he doesn’t want soda. Let him be,” I told her, scared the soda pressure might make him explode right here at the snack stand.
She shrugged. “Okay, just get him a bottle of water,” she ordered. I gave her a look. “What? He’ll get thirsty from the popcorn,” she reasoned.
The kid plonked our feast down in front us. I turned back to him. “One more request and I promise, you’ll never have to see us again.” I thought on that. “So you’ll probably be seeing us next week, considering the new Bond movie comes out then.” I paused and thought again. “Actually, we’re pretty regular moviegoers, so you will actually see us again. Probably quite regularly. Just not for a week, at least.” I smiled at him apologetically as he went to get the water.
“And we’ll have the snack situation down pat after a couple of visits,” Lexie added brightly when he returned.
My smile was shocked right off me to see Zane had stepped up, like right in my space. His amused mouth twitch was gone but the furious glare had yet to reappear. He was staring at me with a hard jaw and blank expression. Apart from his eyes; they were blazing, but with what I couldn’t place. And unfortunately, I didn’t have to stare into them for a moment longer, thanks to my new friend the movie theater snack guy.
“That’ll be thirty-eight fifty,” he declared in a bored sounding tone. His eyes didn’t seem so bored as they took in Lexie leaning against the counter, gathering a popcorn and packets of candy bars in her hands.
Her hair was piled atop her head and she was clad in her usual boho chic. She was wearing a chunky sweater that dropped off one shoulder and was cropped. It met with a chiffon floral skirt, which had delicate floral designs and flowed down to her ankles. Slouchy, heeled, tan ankle boots completed the look. She wasn’t your traditional teenage “hot girl,” which was why I had enjoyed the fact that teenage boys were idiots and chased after her scantily clad counterparts. But as she was growing older and blossoming into an impossibly beautiful young woman, I had caught the looks she got. Not just from teenage boys either. Every time a man or boy cast their eyes over her, I wanted to shout at them she’s just a baby, and then I got the strong urge to learn how to shoot a gun.