Dante Harris was running. Running from an abusive past. Running from a messy break up. Running from the life he left in the small city of Round Rock Texas.
Somehow this small town boy has found himself in the busy streets of New York City, and in t...
It didn't take long for me to make it to the familiar street corner where Tidal Wave was located. Just across from there was a large hardware and furniture store. The store name was Jack's Hardware, which I found a little odd. Maybe the guy who owned the place was a Jack?
I was so used to large chain stores, I was acting like small businesses couldn't exist.
A neon sign was placed in the entrance window, that flashed the word OPE. The N was burnt out. I waited for the meter to change to the walking man symbol, before I even dared stepping onto the cross walk. New York had to be the only place where I could see a walk sign, a crosswalk, hell even a traffic control guy... and still wouldn't trust not getting plowed down by a driver who swears he had somewhere important to be.
Once I made it inside the hardware store, I was instantly grateful for the A/C that was blasting through each isle. It helped tame the sweat that was starting to form on my back and forehead.
The store itself was a bit of a mind fuck. It looked a lot smaller on the outside, than it did on the inside.
For the most part, it seemed like I was the only customer here this morning. There was a lady stationed at the cashier, and she offered me a large smile when I entered.
"Welcome to Jacks Hardware! Let me know if you have any questions." She chirped my way. In return, I gave her a polite smile and a head nod.
Each isle was very specifically labeled, so I didn't have much trouble locating the paint. The selection presented was a shit ton larger than what I expected, but I proceeded with caution. While my apartment managers would probably think of what I'm doing as free labor, I didn't want to overstep my legal limits as a tenant.
I decided that I would just go with the color eggshell. It was a neutral enough tone that was easy to paint over if I needed to.
The paints were located on the shelf right above, with the coordinated color code that matched the code on the paint chips. My eyes zeroed in on the correct can immediately, and I went to reach for it.
That was when I felt that familiar jolt of pain run through my upper body. I immediately recoiled my hand away, which was followed up with a loud groan. I forgot about how sore my upper back still was. Before I could make a second attempt, another hand reached past me to grab the can of eggshell paint I had my eyes on.
"You were trying to get this one, right?"
I jumped immediately as my body whipped around in the direction where that familiar voice had come from. To my greatest surprise, Sammy was standing just inches behind me with the can of paint in hand. He must have been taken back by my jarring movements, and how close we were, because he took a few staggered steps back.
"Sorry!" He rushed immediately. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you like that. I just noticed you were struggling to get the can up top. Was this it?" He asked hesitantly as he held the eggshell paint out for me.
I had meant to act like a normal fucking human being and thank this kind man, but all I did was continue to stare at him like an idiot.
It was stupid, I know... but seeing Sammy in something that wasn't a Fight Club shirt and gym shorts, was dangerous for my heart. He was in some faded jeans, and a casual cotton shirt. His muscles were far too large for the shirt. I could tell the heat had starting to get to him, as light beads of sweat formed at the base of his forehead. His hair was still tied up carelessly in a loose bun that somehow completed the entire look.
The furrowing of Sammy's eyebrows was what brought me out of my little fantasy, and into the real world.
"S-Sorry! Yes, hi. Um- yeah, that was the color I was trying to get."
Thank you, brain, for pulling it the fuck together.
Sammy gave me a light chuckle. I watched as those deep smile lines formed. He extended the can out further so I could use my last two remaining brain cells to figure out he was trying to hand it to me. I gave him a nervous smile and a thank you, as I accepted the paint.
"Don't sweat it." He said casually. "Feels like I've been wandering aimlessly in this hardware store for years now. I don't even know what the fuck I'm looking for anymore." I hadn't noticed the basket of supplies he had with him until now. I did start to notice some of the items inside. "That WikiHow article promised me that a roof leak could be an easy fix. Now I'm calling bullshit."
I tried to stifle the laugh that was bubbling up, but it was too hard to keep in. Sammy has a goofy smile plastered on his face.
"Roofs can be a little more complicated than that." I explained. "Could be from any roof penetrations like a chimney or roof vent. Have you checked it out yet?" I asked.
That goofy smile had since faded, and now Sammy had a different expression. He looked to be contemplating something. After just a brief moment, he said something that was the farthest from what I was anticipating.
He asked, "Do you have any plans for the afternoon?"
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