Dick’s

Jack preferred the old gas station Dick’s because he thought the cashier was pretty and she never carded him. He only went there after really rough games. He would buy a six-pack, play Xbox, and tell no one. Thursday was a rough game. Coach barely let him play any. After the game, Jack’s dad Mr. Davis offered a dead-eyed smile to the sweaty brown-haired boy before complimenting his little sister's tumbling and asking Mrs. Davis if they were eating meatloaf again for dinner. They were. 

He drove with windows down. His sweaty curls dried in the warm summer breeze. The old cherry chevy rattled over ancient potholes while Chris Stapleton crooned through the radio static. The “S” on the neon Dick’s sign would sputter on and off while he pulled into the faded lines of the parking lot. He threw on a hoodie before locking up the truck and opening the gas station doors with the jingle of bells. 

“Welcome to Dick’s” A monotoned southern accent drew from the register. 

Dick’s was what you might expect from a gas station in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. Fluorescent flickering lights, stale air, and off-brand Cheetos with a weird amount of pigs feet offered. But the place had a beer cave so it was a local gem. Jack's sneakers squeaked slightly on the linoleum as he headed straight for the Modelos.

Cold six-pack in hand, he approached the register. He suddenly wished he had thrown on some deodorant before locking up his truck. The cashier looked about his age. She was short. Like five foot short. Her hair was bleached a damaging shade of white and it fought hard against the hair band that held it all on top of her head. Thick dark eyebrows sat neutral on her face and her wide brown eyes showed no sign of expression while he laid the beers on the counter with a thud. She had a small nose and full lips. She wore too much eyeliner and wore too “alternative” of clothing to ever be brought around Jack's friends though. She was the type of pretty that you would maybe think about in the shower but not really in reality. He wondered if she was a lesbian.

“You gonna want a bag?” What a bored southern accent. 

“oh, nah.” 

She scanned the beers and glanced at his basketball sweatshirt.

“Did we win?”

“hmm?”

“There was a game, right? Do you want a receipt?” 

“No, I’m ok. I'm sorry, do I go to school with you?” He looked at her face a little harder, he even squinted a little. The girl gave a little laugh but didn’t seem offended in the least.

“Yeah, I'm pretty sure. I’m a sophomore though.” Jack was a junior. 

“Oh…umm, yeah we won. It was close though.” He shoved his hands into his hoodie pockets. He didn’t know why he felt heat on his cheeks.

“cool.” She nodded, still watching the register screen. The machine was stalling.

Jack rocked on the balls of his feet a bit.

“You uhh go to any games?” 

She glanced up at the seventeen-year-old. She gave a look that almost tested if he was serious or not. She gave a half smile once she saw that he was.

“Ummm no, not yet. I work most nights so…” The receipt came waving out with a shrill noise.

“ah, yeah. Makes sense…”

“No receipt?”

“No receipt.” He kind of wanted to find more to say.

“Welp, uh have a good one.” She deadpanned. He gave her a smile and grabbed his beer and turned to leave. 

What the hell Jack? What do you even have going on? You could’ve come up with something better to talk about. Try to make something of the night. Screw it. Talk. Say something. Go. Literally anything-

“You uh wanna drink?” By the time he turned back around to face her, she had been back on her phone. She took a second, wheels turned behind her steady gaze. She looked around the empty store and back to Jack. 

“You cool drinking in the parking lot?”

“uh yeah, sure.”

The first beer was awkward. It was a lot of silence broken up by the occasional swatting away of a mosquito followed by a courteous laugh. Jack realized halfway through the first beer that he never asked the cashier's name and now he felt it was too late for introductions. He noticed how small she looked next to his 5’11” frame while they sat on the curb. Most guys on the team still towered over him. He liked feeling this big. The second beer was opened.

“So uh what made you work here?”

“Money?”

“No, like, I don’t know. Like why Dick’s instead of Chili’s or something?”

“I mean, it's close enough to skateboard to.”

“Right. Sophomore. No car yet.”

“Yep, plus I mean who doesn’t love the rich cultural atmosphere that Dick’s presents.” She stretched and leaned back on her palms. Her shirt rode up a little. He tried not to stare.

“Ummm sure I guess.”

The cashier glanced at the boy with her raised dark eyebrows. She waited for a second before cutting into his thoughts with a much more genuine laugh this time.

“I’m fucking with you.” 

“Oh, dang yeah. Sorry.” Jack laughed lightly with still knitted-together eyebrows.

“Don’t apologize… Although you can apologize for your beer choice.” She grimaced at the Mexican beer in hand before throwing back a swig. 

“Fine, you don’t have to drink any.” He began to pull the can away with a half grin.

“Alright, Alright, Damn you never take a drink from a lady,” The cashier threw the rest of the beer back before it could be snatched again “ You want cigarettes?”

“oh uh, I don’t smoke.”

“So you just kill your liver?”

“It's not like that, I don’t drink that often.”

“I’m sorry, you don’t kill your liver often?”

“I don’t really drink.”

“The amount of Modelos I’ve sold to you says otherwise.”

“It’s not like that.”  

“What’s it like?”

“…” At that moment, Jack pictured sitting alone with his drinks in his bedroom.

“I don’t judge Jack, I just like things to make sense.” She knew his name. She wasn’t even looking at him and he felt a little attacked. 

“It’s not good to drink.” It made sense to him to let her know that he knew that. 

“I never said it was.”

“ I just drink when I’ve had a bad day.” Another important fact to include.

“Ha what an original idea. Spread the news, you're really onto something.” She finally looked back over at him. That was the biggest laugh she gave yet. He didn’t know what about the conversation was funny. 

“You never card me.” He felt like he was accusing her of that point, but she didn’t respond like he was.

“That's because I don’t really give a shit.” He didn’t like the way curse words sounded in a southern accent, or from a girl's mouth for that matter.

“It’s okay,” She laughed again. Jack didn’t think her laughter made much sense with where she chose to put it. “Your secret’s safe with me. Jack Davis is above us all and does not partake in the ways of the world, as far as anyone knows.” He didn’t like her choice of words either.

“How do you know who I am?”

“My family goes to your dad's church.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, his preaching isn’t really for me but my dad likes that y’all don’t make a big presentation out of the worship. I just think y’all don’t know how to make a big presentation out of the worship. You ever been to a pentecostal church?”

“No.”

“Damn, that's where it's at. Them Pentecostals know how to SING. There are always people dancing around screaming and shit. You hear about the mountain Pentecostals handling snakes but no one really does that. I get that it's not biblical or anything but I would fucking love to watch some old white man try to hold a snake, you know?”

“Do Pentecostals swear a lot?”

“I don’t think so, why?”

“No reason.” He did not feel big all of sudden. She was grinning now, almost giddy. She bumped shoulders with the seventeen-year-old.

“Imma grab some smokes,” and she trotted back into the gas station. Jack didn’t know if he should start his third beer or leave, but she was back before he could make a decision.

“I like the Camel Crushes, I think most of the younger crowd does. Cigars with the little mouthpieces are nice and easy on the lungs upfront but that can trick ya. You think you can inhale cigars all of a sudden cuz of how sweet they can be,” A yellow lighter materialized in her small, black nail polished hands, and she lit a cigarette without missing a beat, “then all of sudden you are nic sick.” Her foggy exhale made his head spin a bit. 

“I don’t think I ever needed to know any of that.”

“Oh just you wait Jack Davis, one day you will be thanking me for my veteran advice.” He grimaced again.

“Oh don’t be so serious,” another shoulder bump. “I’m teasin’, you don’t have to smoke if you don’t wanna smoke.” There was that off-putting laugh again.

“I don’t remember your name.”

“You know you never asked it.”

“Are you always this contrary?”

She paused. Something lit up in her eyes and her smile grew to cheshire depths.

“Mr. Davis big boy panties suit ya better ya know.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It's a sin to swear, you know.”

“You’ve been swearing all night!” He couldn’t help the raise of tone.

“Ha, my name is Chloe.” She stuck her hand out with the biggest of giggles and she was regrettably rather pretty at that moment. He knew he shouldn’t have been turned on by the burning death stick between her lips but he was. 

“You wanna skateboard?”

“I don’t know how.”

“You wanna sit on a skateboard and have me push you around?”

“That doesn’t sound like fun.”

“It’ll be fun for me.” Without giving him a second she sprinted back into the gas station.

Definitely time for a third beer.

Jack was right, it wasn’t fun, at first. He was hot in the face while he was pushed around the parking lot by a small girl. He didn’t know if Chloe sensed it but she quickly let him push her around as well. He felt less and less embarrassed especially after she brought out another six-pack for the two of them. He wondered if she paid for it, he didn’t know how to feel about that, but he didn’t ask her about it either. Eventually, the two teenagers found themselves laying on the pavement.

Listening to the surrounding nature and cars, they fired quick questions at each other. Jack wanted to scoot closer.

“Favorite color?” she spouted.

“Red, you?”

“Typical. Violet.”

“Typical. Music genre?” He asked.

“Country.”

“Really?”

“What? Am I only supposed to like some underground indie rock music?” She mused with a knowing look.

“Honestly yes.” Jack smiled and she shoved him lightly. 

“I’m from the south, you know.” She said a bit softer.

“Trust me, I know.” Jack threw a thick southern twang over his words.

“Wooooow, someone is a bit of an asshole when they are comfortable.” She propped on her side to confront him. He didn’t like being called an asshole.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I like the honesty better.” He became a little too aware of how he looked at that moment.

“I’m not gonna molest you, Jack.” She laughed falling back to the ground. 

“Oh my gosh, what?!” He knew he started turning blood red.

“You got all uncomfortable when I started lookin’ at ya.” She mused.

“It wasn’t like that.” The words were uncomfortable to get out.

“You’re cute Jack. Not let me throw my panties at the wall, cute.” He took a beat to think but found himself laughing. Maybe it was the alcohol.

“What does that even mean?” 

“Exactly what it sounds like!”

“Soooo… you think I’m cute?” The words were tentatively brave.

“Mylanta, boys really do hear what they wanna.” The two had their heads turned to face each other. They couldn’t help but smile and both blush a little. Jack really wanted to know what she was thinking.

“Mr. Davis.” Chloe’s voice was low.

“Yeah.” Jack’s voice was just as low.

“You’re doing the thing.”

“Hm?”

“The stupid boy kissy thing.”

“What are you even talking about?” His chuckle was soft with endearment.

“All boys do it. They think of kissing a girl and they go dead in the eyes. No thoughts.” 

“My face is not doing that.”

“It’s ok, I think boys are cuter when stupid.”

“So you do think I’m cute?”

“You have got a one-track mind, Mr. Davis.”

“Are you gay?” He had to ask.

“What the fuck Jack?” As she laughed her head tilted forward. He smelled the cigarettes on her breath.

“I thought it would be fair to ask.”

“No, can’t say I am.”

“Cool.”

“What-“ and he kissed her. Her lips were as soft as they looked and she tasted of burnt menthol and beer.

They separated for air and just looked at each other for a moment. 

“Well hello, Mr. Davis.”

“Chloe, anyone ever tell you, you talk a lot?”

“I have no idea where that is coming from.” There was the cheshire grin again. She glanced at their surroundings, “As much as I would love to make out with you in a gas station parking lot. I think it's about time to close the store.”

“Right… you’re on the clock.”

“I’m on the clock…” She glanced down to his lips again.

“Can I drive you home?” He didn’t want to let go of her waist.

“Can you wait for me to close up?”

“I think I can do that.”

Jack waited in his truck for about thirty minutes while he watched Chloe sweep, count money, turn off lights, and lock doors. There was something satisfying to him to watch the Dick’s sign flicker off completely for the night. She grabbed the remaining beers, cigarettes, and her skateboard before jumping into his passenger seat.

Jack liked watching the wind whip around the stray hairs of her bun and liked feeling the warmth of her thigh under his palm.

As they drove on the curvy back roads Jack's mind began to wander. He glanced at the smudged rings of eyeliner that migrated to her cheeks. Her pale fingers would softly trail up his forearm and he noticed the chips in her polish. Her shorts could not hide much. Her shirt could have been sized up. His stomach sank a little. 

He thought of what his friends would say when they saw her. His dad would hate her and never tell anyone. He would be pleasant at dinner yet the next day he might find a book on Jack's bed by some great theologian that wrote his thesis in seminary on the roles of women in the church.

He liked kissing her. He even kind of liked how antagonistic she could be but he wasn’t sure he was ready to let her impact his world. He could’ve not said anything at the register.

“Jack?”

“Hm, what?”

“We are here.” Chloe smiled softly while gesturing at the quaint suburban home in front of them. It reminded him a little of his own.

“Oh yeah…”

“Something up?”

“No, no. Um yeah?”

“Yeah?”

“Chloe-”

“Jack.”

“Chloe… I am really sorry.” Jack almost whispered.

“I am missing something.” She laughed again.

“I-I can’t be anything for you.”

“I’m gonna need you to use more than one sentence at a time.” Still laughing.

“I can’t be your boyfriend…” this time she didn't say anything back.

“I’m not really looking for a relationship right now and you are so great but umm I have to focus on basketball right now and I am helping my dad out in the church a lot and-”

“Jack-”

 “I am sure you have a lot going on too and you wouldn’t want to date someone who is busy all the time you deserve better than that and-”

“Jack.” 

“...Yeah?”

The air was tight. He didn’t even want to look at her. He just stared at the mailbox in front of the house while she spoke.

“It's umm ok? Obviously, this is weirdly hard on you but umm, I am not sure how to put this…” The mailbox was slanted, “I never asked?”

“What?”

“Ok, that sounds bad. It’s just, I don’t want you to be my boyfriend.”

Jack waited for something more to make sense of.

“Don't get me wrong, I like kissin' on ya for sure but ummm… I’m not stupid, sweetheart. I see how you react when I say certain things. You ask me if I’m a lesbian and you kinda ogle my clothes… like… you are kind of a dick. Like a good-lookin', jocky-sweet-ish dick… just not the dick for me? Is this makin' any sense?” She didn’t leave room for him to answer. “ Like, I know guys like you. You would feel like some progressive “good guy” for making “allowances” for who I am when it was never your place, to begin with, to “put up” with me. You know?”

Did all the air leave the truck?

“Wow…”

“Sorry, I don’t believe in lying. I’m not trying to be harsh or anything”

“I don’t know what to say.” He really didn’t.

“How about goodnight?”

“Goodnight?”

“Goodnight.” With a toothy grin and a quick peck to Jack's cheek she was gone. His cheek was wet from the kiss. He was mad… or disturbed? She left the beers and cigarettes in his truck. He really didn’t drink or smoke so he didn’t need them. He ended up taking them back home to his Xbox anyways.