Hit Me (One Shot)

"How the hell have we been doing this for two years?" I asked, stooping to straighten up a candy bar.

"Oh, careful, Twix aren't straight," Donnie said, leaning over his register to point.

I glanced at the candy bars hanging hallway out of the box, certain if I fixed them, they'd be misplaced in the next twenty minutes.

"There's no point," I said, sighing. I leaned against my register and folded my arms over the green polo we all wore, staring up into the pot light above my register.

"Has it really been two years?" Donnie asked, running a hand over his stubble filled head. I caught a glimpse of the skull and cross bone tattoo on his muscled forearm from last summer as he shoved his hands in the pockets of khakis identical to mine.

"Think about it man, July 2020. They still made us wear masks," I said, glancing over towards the service desk where Nancy counted up tills from the other cashiers who'd left early.

"Right..." Donnie said, puffing out his chest slightly as a woman nudged her buggy into his lane.

"Are you open?" she asked, peering first at the little light on above the register, then at Donnie who stood waiting, conveyor belt already running.

His eyes flashed to mine and I recognized the answer, "Duh."

"Yes, Ma'am, I'm open."

I moved over from my own place and started to bag, absentminded as the woman made the same nitpicky requests everyone seemed to. She placed her glasses on her head and pulled out a checkbook, peering at it as she spoke.

"Put that with those, please. Oh, and double bag the milk." She paused, picking up her pen. "If you could keep this in a bag by itself. Set this in the buggy behind that, too, yep, there you go."

Her voice droned on as the beep from the scanner set the tone, a careful background to thoughts that swirled around my head. Glancing about the store, not much had really changed in two years. Sure, most of the people were new, even the store manager Mr. Poker, but everyone did the same things in the same tedious way they always had.

Looking outside beyond the automatic doors revealed the same old sloped lot that made it impossible to push buggies up. The same old homeless people congregated by the bus stop, furtively sneaking plants from our sale tables outside when they got the chance. Workers from the motel across the parking lot came by for a quick lunch, people ran in after work and mothers always came through with their harassed and hungry children to by two shopping cart's worth of food.

"I said, good evening," another woman droned, drawing my attention back to here and now.

"Do you need any help with these?" I asked, gesturing towards the cart.

"That's alright."

Before the woman cleared out Donnie was posted up, now leaning his arms over his chest and chewing on his bottom lip.

"What the hell are we still doing here?" he asked aloud, gazing off somewhere towards the far wall.

I shook my head, "I was just trying to figure out that same thing."

Donnie sighed, "This... this isn't what I wanted to do with my life. I mean, damn, man, I'm almost thirty."

I gripped the counter of the baggers area, staring at the conveyor as it rolled under and over itself.

"It's better than what I was doing," I said, thinking back to a few years ago. "I never told you, did I?"

Donnie snorted, "You don't exactly talk about yourself, kid. I've told you about jail and all that, Lindsey and my little girl. I mean hell, all the important stuff. You? I don't know a damn thing about you besides you keep those candy bars straight."

I closed my eyes, a frightened face full of tears hovering in my memory.
"What am I to you, a payday?" she'd said, clutching her briefcase like a shield. "Do you even know who you're working for?"

The feel of cold steel in my hands never disappeared, the weight of the gun as I'd levelled it engrained into my being.

"I used to be a hit man."

Donnie laughed aloud, chest shaking, "Yeah, right, and I'm your uncle. Good one."

"Are you open?"

A man held a pack of hamburger meat just over the rolling conveyor, uncertain.

"Yes, sir, I am," Donnie said, accepting the meat.

"Jack, can you help me with something?" Nancy called, waving from behind the counter.
I approached but didn't speak, the memory still playing itself out in my mind.

"I need you to check on the carts before we close up. There shouldn't be too many out there."
I strode towards the doors just behind the meat man, the moment lost.