Preface
The morning shift at Stop & Shop always starts with the same familiar rhythm, but the second you step into the bottle redemption room, the volume cranks up to ten. The heavy, sweet scent of stale soda and beer hangs in the air, mixed with the steady, mechanical clunk-clunk-crunch of the reverse vending machines eating plastic and aluminum.
I clocked in, grabbed my gloves, and pushed open the door to the bottle room.
Right there, right in the thick of it, was Xiomara. She was a whirlwind of energy, her fast-moving hands sorting glass bottles into crates with a rhythm that belonged in a dance studio, not a grocery store recycling center. Her big hoop earrings caught the harsh fluorescent lighting every time she tossed a head of hair out of her face, and the rapid, sharp sound of her chewing gum popped right over the roar of the glass crusher.
“Hey, Xio,” I called out over the noise, moving past the bins.
The second she saw me, the fierce, focused look on her face completely melted. Her eyes lit up with total, unadulterated adoration. “Papi!” she called out, her Puerto Rican accent cutting effortlessly through the mechanical din. “You’re here! Good, because these machines are trying my patience today, mi amor.”
“I’m gonna go check the bins back here, see if any of the bags need to be changed out before the morning rush hits,” I said with a smile, stepping toward the back of the line where the digital screens monitor the crushers.
“Okay, baby, you do that,” Xio said, turning back to a crate of glass bottles, her voice dropping into a sweet, soft purr. “If any of those machines give you an attitude, you let me know. I’ll kick ’em.”
I shook my head, laughing a little under my breath as I started inspecting the status lights on the row of plastic and aluminum compactors. Everything seemed to be running for now, but on a busy day, it only took one impatient customer with a massive trash bag full of unwashed cans to turn this room into a war zone. And with Xio managing the floor, a war zone was exactly what you had to be prepared for...
This sets up your workplace, shows your routine checking the machines, and immediately introduces Xio’s fast, loving, and slightly aggressive personality right off the bat!
The transition from the noisy bottle room out to the parking lot is the perfect way to build up the action. Handling the carts gives you a great layout for a scene—you’re out in the open, moving through the rows of cars, while the sun hits the blacktop, and anything can happen.
Here is how the preface continues, moving you out of the redemption room and into the lot just as the stage gets set for some classic Xio chaos:
“Machines look good for now, Xio,” I said, pulling my work gloves tight. “Bags are empty, and the compactors are running smoothly. I’m gonna head outside and start rounding up the shopping carts before the lot gets jammed.”
Xio stopped mid-toss, a green glass bottle hovering in her hand. She cut her eyes toward the automatic doors, her jaw moving as she popped her gum. “Outside? In the lot by yourself, Papi?” She rolled her shoulders, her big hoops swinging. “You want me to come with you? You know how people drive out there. They don’t look where they’re going, and if somebody gets too close to you with a bumper, I swear to God I’m gonna break their windshield.”
“I’ll be fine, mi amor,” I laughed, waving a hand as I backed out the door. “Just keep an eye on the glass machine. I’ll be back in a few.”
“Fine,” she pouted, her voice instantly dropping into that sweet, devoted purr. “But you be careful, okay? Don’t let nobody mess with you.”
I stepped out of the air-conditioned store and into the heavy, humid air of the parking lot. The steady hum of traffic from the main road echoed across the asphalt as I headed toward the first scattered row of shopping carts left near the corral. Pushing a line of metal carts back toward the entrance is routine work, a good way to put in some miles and clear your head.
Everything was running exactly as it should. The sky was clear, the grocery shoppers were streaming in and out, and the first line of carts was coming together smoothly.
But in a dark comedy action story, the quiet moments never last long.
By the time the end of the shift finally rolled around, my shoulders were tired, my feet were heavy, and I was more than ready to just catch the bus, head back home, and unwind.
I punched out at the time clock, grabbed my gear, and walked out the front doors of the Stop & Shop. The hot afternoon air hit me as I stepped onto the sidewalk. After hours of dealing with the constant, loud clunk-crunch of the bottle machines and pushing lines of heavy metal carts across the blacktop, all I wanted was to sit down, crack open a cold bottle of birch beer straight from the fridge, and relax.
I looked up and down the road, looking out for the local bus to roll up so I could finally get off my feet.
But as I stood there by the edge of the lot, ready to start my commute, I noticed Xiomara walking out right behind me. She had her purse slung over her shoulder, her big hoop earrings catching the afternoon sun, and her jaw moving as she gave a sharp pop to her gum.
“Papi!” she called out, her fast Puerto Rican accent instantly cutting through the sound of the street traffic. Her eyes locked onto me with total, 100% devotion, a huge smile breaking across her face. “You heading to the stop? Wait up, mi amor, I’m walking with you.”
She caught up to me in three quick steps, immediately locking her arm tightly through mine and leaning her head against my shoulder. For a second, it was peaceful—just a normal couple finishing a hard day’s work, ready to go home.
But then, Xio’s head snapped up.
Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits as she stared hard at a car pulling a little too fast into the fire lane right in front of us, or maybe at a group of people lingering near the sidewalk. The sweet, loving look on her face vanished, replaced instantly by that fierce, unhinged “battle-ready” energy. Her hand gripped my arm tighter, and she let out a low, dangerous roll of her neck.
“Mira,” she muttered under her breath, her voice dropping into that fast, heavy attitude. “Who is that looking over here? Why are they looking at you like that, Papi? Do I need to go over there and teach them some manners before our bus gets here?”
I immediately felt my muscles tense up. My relaxing trip home was already flying right out the window.
“Xio, calm down,” I said, my voice steady but quick as I reached over and gently placed my hand over her forearm.
“I am calm! Papi, look at me, I am totally calm!” she fired back, her words flying a mile a minute in that sharp, fast Puerto Rican accent. Her jaw swung as she gave her gum another fierce, echoing pop. “I just don’t like how that guy over there is checking you out. Why is he looking at you like he owns the sidewalk? He doesn’t own the sidewalk! Stop & Shop doesn’t even own the sidewalk!”
She tried to pull her arm free to do a dramatic neck roll and snap her fingers, but I kept my grip firm, physically stepping slightly between her and the target of her wrath.
“Xio, seriously, he’s just waiting for the same bus we are,” I said, glancing over at the guy standing near the bench under the old awning. The poor guy had just looked up from his phone for a split second, caught sight of Xiomara glaring daggers at him like she wanted to paste him to the blacktop, and immediately looked down at his sneakers, sweating through his shirt. He looked like he wanted to vanish into the pavement.
“I don’t care what he’s waiting for!” Xio muttered, her eyes still narrowed to tiny slits as she leaned heavily against my side, completely pinning my arm to her chest like a human shield. “He needs to keep his eyes on his own shoes. You’re too handsome, mi amor. I gotta protect my investment. If I don’t set boundaries, people think they can just look for free.”
Then, just as fast as the storm had rolled in, she tilted her head up to look at me. The fierce, terrifying glare vanished completely, replaced by big, beautiful, utterly devoted eyes.
“You tired, baby?” she asked, her voice dropping into a soft, sweet purr that made it hard to even stay stressed. She reached up with her free hand, tenderly fixing the collar of my work shirt. “Did you put in a lot of miles today with those heavy carts? When we get back, I’m gonna make sure you get a cold drink, okay? No ice, just straight from the fridge, exactly how you like it.”
I let out a long breath, laughing a little under my breath as the brakes of the local bus screeched to a halt right in front of us, the doors folding open with a loud hiss.
“Yeah, a cold drink sounds perfect,” I said, guiding her toward the steps. “Let’s just get on the bus first. Without starting a brawl.”
“Fine,” she pouted, stepping onto the bus ahead of me. But the second she hit the aisle, she cut her eyes back toward the crowded seats, her hand immediately going up to adjust one of her big hoop earrings just in case anyone else got the wrong idea.
We moved down the narrow aisle of the bus, the vehicle swaying slightly as the driver pulled away from the curb. I kept a light hand on Xio’s shoulder, guiding her past the rows of passengers until we found an empty row all the way in the back.
“Here you go,” I said, gesturing toward the row.
I let her slide into the window seat so she could look out at the passing storefronts along East Main, and I took my spot right next to her on the outside, guarding the aisle. The seat was worn, bouncing over every bump in the road, but just being able to sit down and rest my legs after a long shift pushing carts felt like a victory.
The second I sat down, Xio didn’t waste any time. She immediately grabbed my right arm, pulling it tight against her side and resting her chin right on my shoulder. Through the glass window, the afternoon sun caught her big hoop earrings, casting little reflections across the back of the bus.
“Ah, much better,” she sighed, her fast accent softening into a sweet, contented purr. Her jaw moved in a slow, relaxed rhythm as she chewed her gum. “You smell like the bottle room, Papi, but it’s okay. I still love you.”
“Gee, thanks,” I joked, leaning my head back against the headrest.
“No, really!” She looked up at me, her eyes completely wide and full of total devotion. “You work so hard, mi amor. I like a man who works hard. That’s why you’re mine.”
For about three blocks, it was actually peaceful. The steady rumble of the bus engine was almost relaxing, and I could feel myself starting to drift off, thinking about that cold root beer waiting for me in the fridge at home.
But then, the bus hissed to a stop at the next transit light. A fresh crowd of people started boarding, paying their fares, and shuffling down the aisle looking for a place to stand.
I felt Xio’s posture instantly stiffen against me. Her chin left my shoulder, and her head snapped up like a hawk spotting movement in the grass. Her hand let go of my arm and slowly rose to her ear, fingers lightly tapping against her hoop earring as her eyes locked onto the new passengers moving toward the back.
“Mira...” she whispered, her voice dropping that sweet tone and switching straight back into a fast, dangerous rumble. “Papi, don’t look now. But that guy who just got on... he is walking back here, and he is looking right at you.”
The guy shuffled down the aisle, his eyes scanning the packed bus before he finally stopped right next to our row. He grabbed hold of the overhead metal bar, standing so close his jacket brushed against my knee.
I didn’t even have to look at Xio to know exactly what was happening. I could feel the heat radiating off her. Her jaw stopped chewing. Her eyes narrowed to razor-sharp slits, staring straight up at the guy’s torso with total, unhinged “battle-ready” intensity. Her fingers gripped the edge of the seat, her knuckles turning white as she prepared to pop her gum and unleash a storm in English and Spanish right there in the back of the bus.
Before she could even open her mouth to say “Mira,” I reached up quickly, grabbed the yellow stop-request cord running along the window, and gave it a firm, decisive yank.
Ding.
The “Stop Requested” sign lit up at the front of the bus.
“Come on, Xio, this is us,” I said quickly, not even waiting for the bus to slow down. I stood up immediately, using my body to block her view of the guy and creating a barrier in the aisle.
The fierce, terrifying glare on her face vanished in a split second, melting right back into pure, sweet compliance as she looked up at me. “Oh, we’re here already, Papi?” she asked, her voice dropping into that soft, devoted purr.
“Yeah, let’s go,” I said, guiding her by the waist toward the back doors before she could change her mind or find another target.
The bus screeched to a heavy halt at the curb, the brakes hissing loudly as the doors folded open. I let Xio step down onto the pavement first, exhaling a massive breath of relief as the heavy doors slammed shut behind us. The bus rumbled away into the traffic, taking the crowded aisle and the oblivious standing passenger with it.
We were finally on the sidewalk, just a short walk away from the apartment. The afternoon air was warm, and the heavy lifting of the workday was officially behind me.
Xio immediately wrapped her arm right back through mine, locking herself to my side as we started walking. She tilted her head up, a brilliant smile on her face, her hoops swinging in the sun. “See, mi amor? I was so good on the bus. I didn’t even say anything to that guy who was crowding your personal space.”
“You did great, Xio,” I laughed, shaking my head as we turned the corner. “An absolute angel.”
“I know,” she sighed happily, popping her gum. “Now let’s get you home so you can get that cold drink. You deserve it, Papi.”
