Vicki passed through the whoosh of air into the supermarket. She grabbed a cart and checked her watch. She had a babysitter for forty-five more minutes.
With a twinge, she remembered that she never needed a babysitter until Josh left her for his twenty-year-old “muse.” At least the midlife career change gamble paid off. The commercials were right – she earned her certificate in under one year, and now made her own schedule.
She circled the apple display and stopped by the least expensive variety. When she reached for a bag, a man backed into her. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“My fault,” he said. “You come here often?”
“Only when I need food.”
He laughed. “I’m Steve.” He extended his right hand.
“Hi.” Instead of returning the handshake, she tore a bag from the roll.
“So, where do you work?”
“I’m self-employed.” She dropped an inspected apple in her bag.
“What do you do?” Steve pulled a bag from the roll and dropped in several apples.
“Really? I’ve had a sore shoulder. Can you help?”
“Maybe.” Eager to build her clientele, she handed him a business card from the outer pocket of her purse.
He read the card. “Victoria Rossi. Beautiful name.”
“Thanks.” She placed the apples in her cart.
“Do you offer happy endings?” He added two more apples to his bag and winked.
She frowned. “I’m not some cheap harlot.”
He held his arms up in an exaggerated gesture of surrender, the bag of produce in his right hand, her business card in his left. “Hey, I just wanna get what I pay for. So…do you?”
She smiled. “Actually, I do.” She walked over to him and kneed him in the groin. Hard.
“I’m happy this conversation is ending,” she said as he fell, writhing in pain.
She picked her card up from the ground and left him clutching his apples.
This is my second entry in the Trefecta Week 20 challenge. The prompt is cheap with the following definition: cheap adj \ˈchēp\ – (a) of inferior quality or worth : tawdry, sleazy <cheapworkmanship> (b) contemptible because of lack of any fine, lofty, or redeeming qualities <feeling cheap>