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Tony underestimated how long customers examine meat.
With each second that passed, more beads of sweat ran down his back. His skin prickled at every person's voice, cart roll, or child's scream. At this rate, he was in more danger waiting in the corner of the store than he was just adventuring into the crowd.
He thought the aisle would have emptied by now, leaving him the opportunity to grab the meat he needed for the month and check out. But when he'd chosen today to leave his home for the first time in five years, he never imagined it would be on a day of a sale. Every aisle was swarmed with people, and it was only a matter of time before someone recognized that he wasn't as dead as he was supposed to be.
With a deep breath, he decided to move in. Each step was like crossing a battlefield. He avoided the gazes of the other patrons like bullets. Before going into hiding, he was surrounded by his underlings while they shipped containers of cocaine and fought off fellow gangs. And yet, nothing he'd been through in the past was near as terrifying as this.
His shopping basket becoming an extension of his body as he tiptoed through the crowed. He hoped the extra 50 pounds and sunglasses would be enough for no one to recognize him as "The Bull". While he picked up a package of chicken thighs, a woman's blue eyes caught his gaze. They shared a glance before she turned to the person beside her and whispered something.
It was over. He'd be outed as the mob boss who was supposed to have gone down during a 50-man shooting. Surely, it'd lead to the press finding his safe house and discovering his greatness had turned into an overweight, 50-year-old man who spent more time watching The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air than he'd like to admit.
He panicked, stepping backwards. His heel hit another customer's leg and he turned, catching his balance. The elderly woman he'd run into wasn't quite as lucky.
The woman's pink lips formed a large O as she toppled with a shout. Tony reached out with his free hand and managed to grab her wrist. Instead of stopping her, she continued to fall while her pearl bracelet and beige handbag slipped into his hand. Every customer's gaze landed on him while he leaned over the elderly woman with her purse and bracelet in one hand and his shopping basket in the other.
"Thief!" the woman shouted, struggling to stand. Tony's eyes widened.
Not only would he be recognized by everyone, but his great legacy of a millionaire mob boss would be turned into a measly purse thief. Not even a good one at that.
He dropped her purse and bracelet before squeezing through the crowd and rushing into the least trafficked aisle possible.
With deep breaths, he scanned all sides. He was caught between the baby food and granola bars. Luckily, only one other patron was in the aisle, and they seemed oblivious to his presence. He wiped the sweat from beneath his bucket hat. The mid-wash denim coat felt heavy on his shoulders as he looked at his pitiful basket. Even if he stretched it, the groceries wouldn't last him more than two weeks. The thought of leaving the house again in such a short time terrified him. He hated to admit it, but his mother was right.
~ ~ ~
The week before his mother died, she dropped food. Tony didn't need to guess who it was when he heard the four knocks on the door. His mother's voice sang the same song blaring from her car parked in front of the steps.
He waited a couple moments, listening to the ups and downs of her voice. Though it was the same as every time before, he found himself swelled with emotion. She was his everything. Though he'd given her money for anything she'd ever need, it'd never be enough to thank her for years of raising him as a single mother.
When he opened the door, she tossed one of the bags into his arms, a grin on her face. "You'd better be grateful. The store was a Hell hole today."
He invited her in, and they put each item away together.
"Faking your death. Seriously, T, who decided that was a good idea?" she questioned, shoving the second gallon of milk to the back.
"I couldn't take it anymore." Tony sighed. "Not after what happened to Dennis."
"He was one kid. You had hundreds working for you."
"That kid represented dozens that I failed. Besides, I have you around to venture into stores no matter how much Hell they are."
The air went stale.
His mother held a salt container loosely. "What are you going to do when I'm not here anymore?"
He should've seen the signs. He should've known she was on death's door. But without her ever telling him, who was he to know any better?
Two weeks later, Tony ensured her funeral was perfect through his 'anonymous donation' that included a request for at least a hundred white lilies.
~ ~ ~
After facing the meat aisle once more and securing a package of ground beef, Tony found his way into the checkout aisle. While he placed his items on the belt, he thought of how nice it would be to be home again. At first, becoming a shut-in was a way to hide from the public and watch as thousands celebrated, grieved, or mourned him dying. But after five years, he'd gotten used to the solitude.
One item after another beeped while the cashier scanned them in.
"Is that cash or card today?" the man asked.
"Cash," he responded, holding out the bills. Only then did he see the name tag plastered on the striped uniform: Dennis.
Though older, the kid was the very Dennis that'd been thrown in prison during his last job. He'd taken the fall for everything, getting charged with selling so much cocaine that it'd landed him in federal prison. Tony had taken it personally, knowing it should have been him. Dennis was just a kid when he joined the gang at 12 years old. When he was arrested, Tony should've been there to exchange places. But he hid instead, faking his death to not live the sentence Dennis hadn't deserved.
"Do you like working here?" Tony questioned. He had to know. Did Dennis at least have a good life?
"Nah, I prefer my old job," he responded, a small smile on his face. "It was far more adventurous. Would you like a receipt?"
Tony wondered if Dennis recognized him. For once, he didn't feel the anxiety of being in public. In fact, he wanted to apologize and tell Dennis he was his old boss, and to confess to the world that he wasn't dead.
Instead, Tony shook his head, grabbed his bags, and left the store. As he walked back to his safe house, he couldn't help but feel the loneliness clinging to him like layers on a cold day.
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