Out Of His League

The pretty girl was friendly enough, but Frazer doubted she’d ever notice him . . .

UNEXPECTED item in bagging area, please wait for assistance.” The semi-robotic voice issuing from the self-service checkout alerted Frazer to the situation arising in the checkout aisle.

From the system of lights above the cash registers, he spotted the red light which would direct him to the damsel in distress.

He could see her raven hair flowing in the breeze from the chilled aisle, and her emerald eyes pleading for rescue from the clutches of the mechanical money machines.

He scanned his administrator pass.

“I have saved you from the glitch, my lady,” he announced, tapping the buttons to override the decision of the scales.

“My hero!” She pretended to swoon.

“More money than sense, some folk,” a voice said.

A work-roughened hand grabbed Frazer’s and thrust a cold one-pound coin into his warm palm, waking him from the fantasy playing in his mind. He smiled.

“Is that you scavenging for coins again?”

Ever since Frazer had begun working at Foster’s Fine Foods, six months ago, he’d got to know Joe, who was one of the store’s more memorable customers.

Joe’s daily mission appeared to be to seek out trolleys that had been hastily discarded by their temporary owners with their security deposits left intact. Then he’d pass the coins on to the younger man as if they were contraband.

It mystified Frazer as to why Joe didn’t just keep the coins for himself. It wasn’t as if anyone would cry theft.

“Was that you daydreaming about madam over there again?” Joe pointed to the young lady with the black hair.

Frazer had already confessed that he was besotted with her.

“You asked her out yet?” Frazer shrugged. Not even in his wildest dreams could he imagine doing that.

“It wouldn’t be very professional of me,” he replied. “She never notices me, anyway. She’s way out of my league, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Joe and Frazer fell silent as the girl passed them on her way out of the store.

“Don’t sell yourself short, son,” Joe replied once her waft of perfume had faded.

“Besides, she buys meals for two,” Frazer continued. “And smiles at the texts on her phone in that way that just shouts ‘unavailable’.” Joe patted his arm. “Never mind. Plenty more cod in the fish aisle.”

Frazer laughed. He often wondered how he’d get through the day without Joe’s visits to brighten it.

“Don’t spend all that in the one shop now,” Joe said, gesturing towards the £1 coin as he wandered off.

Slipping Joe’s coin into his pocket, Frazer returned to his work, confining thoughts of the beautiful customer to the back of his mind.

At four p.m. Frazer sauntered out the exit of Foster’s Fine Foods. It was nice to finish early for a change.

Normally his working day ended at six, but with a new employee being trained today and now ready for some solo responsibility, Frazer was surplus to requirements.

The sights and sounds of the shopping mall assaulted his senses. It felt like ages since he’d had time for a bit of window shopping.

A waft of freshly baked pastries drifted his way and he breathed it in, his stomach reminding him it was almost teatime.

A recent conversation with Joe entered his mind.

“There’s a new bakery opened up just along the way there,” he had said. “Their tattie and bean pies are magic. I go in most days when I leave here.”

At the time, Frazer had doubted he’d ever have the chance to try the delicacy Joe was so keen on.

By the time his shift usually finished most of the shops in the centre were shut, the cleaners busy sprucing the place up for another day.

The bakery was open now, though, and the pound coin he had received from Joe earlier was calling to him from his pocket, almost begging to be spent.

Why not, Frazer decided, surrendering to temptation.

Turning into the glass doorway of Bonnie’s Bakery, Frazer scanned the shop’s display.

He understood why Joe had been so quick to rave about this place: its variety of goodies looked amazing, much better than the over-priced and overpackaged goods in Foster’s Fine Foods, that was for sure.

“Can I help you?” a sweet voice asked him, tearing him away from his admiration of the pastries.

“Um, yes,” he replied. “Can I have one of your bean and potato pies, please?”

“Hot or cold?”

“Hot, thanks.”

The assistant smiled,