Sharpshooters

Meeting Peletier.

"I do miss my Maytag..." Carol sighed.

"I miss my Benz, my sat nav," Andrea nodded sadly.

"I miss my computer... And texting," Amy sulked.

"I miss my microwave," I sighed. The girls sniggered at my remark but soon fell silent again as we worked. I picked out a dark green muscle tank and held it in my hands for a few moments, just staring at it.

"I miss my vibrator..." Andrea spoke quietly, blushing. I raised my brows and stared at her, shocked. Everyone soon burst into smiles and laughter at her. I bit my lip gently, to hold back some laughs, and dunked the shirt into the now-very-murky water. Then out of nowhere, Carol agreed coyly and that got us all laughing even more.

"Oh my god!" Amy laugh-yelled and cried. Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots sounded behind, followed by a harsh stench of cheap liquor and cigar smoke filled the air.

"What's so funny?" A gruffly-voiced man spoke. Andrea stopped and whipped her head around to look at the man. I tilted back my head, continued to work, but I caught a glimpse of the man. Short grey hair, noticeably dark stubble and blue eyes. He wore a faded green shirt with a white undershirt, faded green khaki pants and brown boots. As he glanced around the girls, a harsh glare remained on his face.

"Just sharing war stories, Ed," Andrea said, putting down the item of clothing and picking up a different, wet shirt strung across the rock beside her. She still kept her gaze on him.

"Yeah," Amy agreed quietly. Carol turned around and looked up at the man and he shot her an extremely mean, agitated look.

"Problem, Ed?" Andrea had noticed the sour look he gave to Carol.

"Nothin' that concerns you. And you 'ought to focus on your work. This ain't no comedy club," he leaned forward slightly and blew the cigarette smoke at Andrea.

"Ed, tell you what... You don't like how your laundry is done - you're welcome to pitch in and do it yourself. Here!" Andrea spat and threw the wet shirt at him. He caught it with one large and immediately threw it back at her. It splattered on her shoulder and fired water droplets around. A loud gasp escaped her lips as the coldness hit her body.

"Ain't my job, missy," He half-grinned at his actions, took a puff of the cig and blew the smoke at her again. She twitched, threw down the shirt and leapt to her feet.

"Andrea, don't," Carol pleaded, grabbed the shirt and put it back in the basket. Andrea, full of rage, ignored her pleads and faced the man head-on.

"So, what's your job, Ed? Sitting here on your ass-" she pointed to a scrap metal frame of a car behind him, "smoking cigarettes?"

"Well, it sure as hell ain't listening to some uppity smart-mouthed bitch," he hissed back and gestured with his hand for Carol to get up, "tell you what... Come on. Let's go, Carol," she obeyed the command and slowly raised to her feet. Andrea held a hand on her shoulder and stopped her. All this time she never broke eye contact with the man. Hell, this conflict wasn't a new experience; but left me uneasy still. Something wasn't right...

"I don't think she needs to go anywhere with you, Ed," Andrea huffed.

"And I say it's none of your damn business. Come on now. You heard me," he said harshly towards Carol and flicked the cigar into the murky lake. Andrea placed herself deliberately in front of Carol.

"Andrea, please, it doesn't matter," Carol pleaded and gently pushed past her. Ed held a hand up and motioned a backhand slap, warning Carol. She flinched and recoiled. Is he going to hit her?