I was annoyed, sweaty, and pissed-off by the time I got off work Sunday. The majority of the customers had been assholes—especially the ones who’d just gotten out of church—and it had taken all my energy not to tell each and every one of them where in hell to stick their self-righteous and oh-so-fake piety.
And then, there was Leroy in the meat department, who kept cornering me outside the men’s restroom every chance he got, begging for a quickie. Okay, yeah, we’d done that before in the janitorial closet, but I was so not interested right now. What part of “no” was he missing? And dear God, what was up with his breath? Did he cut up raw meat and eat it, too?
The leer on his face made me want to throw up. That would teach me to be choosier about my hookups, if I ever decided to go back i
