*On to another of my favorite pairings, Brandon and Jazz. This chapter was inspired by one particular suggestion that was waaaaaaaay too good to pass up. A rebellious act. And of course, I knew exactly who had to be involved. It was also inspired by my personal experience working in the grocery industry, so it made it that much more fun to write. Thanks for the idea, Tonya. ;) And you'll figure out who Alena is later.
Jazz rolled her eyes at the size of the crowd waiting for service at the deli and leaned harder on her shopping cart. "You believe this?"
"It's hardly surprising," Brandon offered. "Every time the weather people call for snow, the grocery stores go crazy. I'd be shocked if they weren't insane. As a former employee of Dean and Deluca, I'd expect you to remember that." He ended by jabbing her rib cage playfully.
The woman backed away from gouging fingers with a frown. "That isn't what I meant, Bran. What I don't understand is how we got roped into taking this shopping trip. I can happily live off the crap at the convenience store, but no, the Queens of Persia at home are hooked on the gourmet goodies from this hell-hole."
Her husband shrugged broad shoulders. "They turn out some pretty incredible dinners with those fancy ingredients, you gotta admit."
"That's not the point," she grumbled, turning away from the deli counter. "We need to let this crowd thin out a bit. I'm not waiting forty minutes just for Karina's Serrano."
"We could try splitting up the grocery list, Jazz," he suggested. "Divide and conquer."
"And risk losing you in the urban jungle? I don't think so."
"I have a cell phone."
"Which you can barely operate."
"I know how to use my phone! Just because I'm not some technical genius like you-"
"No, you're someone who managed to lock himself out of his device twice last week."
"I told you Alena got a hold of it!"
Jazz shook her head with a smirk. "There's always an excuse, isn't there? Anyway, I can't let you out of my sight. I need your muscle to get through the masses."
"Want me to start chucking people around?"
"If you think it'll get us out faster."
"You wanna get this finished? Then we need to focus on the list and knock it out." Brandon nudged her aside to take control of the cart and dropped the notepad with the scrawled shopping list in her hands. "We'll start at the back and work our way up to the front. No more whining."
"Whining is what our kids do, Bran. I was only trying to get you to commiserate with me."
He caught her by the elbow with a mischievous gleam in his eye. "We can make this more fun."
She stared back at him, incredulous. "Don't start going loco on me."
Brandon grinned and took off with the cart, dragging her behind him with his other hand.
"Bran, could you-" She cut off sharply when he jerked her down the cereal aisle. What she'd been about to say flew completely out of her head when he started humming the "Mission Impossible" theme. "Chico, you are losing it."
"If you wanna get out of this store alive, we have to stick together."
Jazz tried hard to repress a smile at his dramatic tone. "Nice, Bran. Hey, wait!" She planted her feet to be sure he wouldn't pull her away, and motioned to a row of gourmet granola. "That one has chocolate and peanut butter!"
He laughed while tossing a bag in the cart. "Not too fancy for you now, huh?"
"Better grab a couple more, in case the guys find it."
"We have our own condo, Jazz."
"And yet, they still find their way into our pantry, Brandon."
"All right, maybe a few more..."
She covered her mouth while the man threw six more bags of granola into the cart, but a nagging sensation of being watched prevented her from laughing. Jazz glanced over her shoulder, but there was no one nearby. Closer to the end of the aisle she spotted a man in a tie and an earpiece, hovering with no apparent purpose.
The woman immediately stiffened, but her husband didn't notice, continuing jovially.
"...If we got a lock box maybe we could-"
She jabbed him in the side at once. "Be quiet."
His brow creased. "What's the matter?"
"Act natural, but keep moving. Real slow like."
He looked bewildered but obeyed, sending a wary glance over his shoulder. "Um...why are we acting natural?"
Jazz looked back again, and saw the same individual still fidgeting at the end of the aisle. "Because we have a watcher."
"A what?"
"We're being supervised."
"By that guy? Jazz, he's nowhere near us. Are you feeling a bit paranoid today?"
"Bran, I worked for the company," she snapped. "I understand their behaviors. He's using the mirror to spy on us."
"Mirror?"
"You see the big, circular, shiny thingy hanging from the ceiling there? What do you think it's for? Fixing your hair?"
"Okay...but why is he watching us?"
Jazz glanced at her own reflection in the mirror above them and made a scoffing sound. "Typical stereo-typing. Punky-looking lady walks in, and she's an automatic shoplifter risk."
His eyebrows rose. "Well, maybe he's not after you. How do you know he isn't following me?"
She folded her arms. "If it was a woman after us, I might buy that line."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Women love shopping at grocery stores, Bran, and sometimes they're not looking for food."
"So you come off like a dangerous criminal, and I can't?"
"Of the two of us, I'm the only one who's done prison time."
"I went to jail!" he protested.
"All you did was punch your old man (who royally deserved it), and you were bailed out in twenty minutes. I was convicted of multiple felonies."
"You weren't guilty of most of them."
"I was according to the state of New York, and my dad."
"You think I can't create just as much trouble as you?" His eyebrows rose a second time. "I beg to differ."
"What are we, thirteen, Bran?"
He nodded toward the other end of the aisle where two shoppers were pondering different displays of product. One was reading the nutritional information on a cereal box like it was an autobiography, and the other was staring vapidly at a line of upscale trail mixes.
Brandon suddenly abandoned the cart and started moving toward the strangers, leaving Jazz to grab the buggy and chase after him. The woman stood back while he inconspicuously swapped the customer's carts with one another, and rapidly kept moving around the corner of the aisle.
Jazz hurried past the women, shaking her head. "That's your big act of criminal mischief? Better watch out that they don't lock you up and throw away the key."
He snapped his fingers. "Not enough. Okay. Let's have a look around..." The man zipped through meandering customers so fast that Jazz had a hard time keeping up with the cart. She was held up momentarily by two women who'd decided to block an entire pathway with their carts while they gabbed like long-lost sisters.
Before Jazz could find an opportunity to interrupt their important conversation, she saw Brandon jogging from another direction with a black cart loaded with cases of merchandise. She knew it didn't belong to a customer, but an associate who must have been stocking shelves in the area.
She turned around to follow him, snorting when he shoved the stock cart down a narrow hallway at the back of the Specialty Cheese department.
"How long do you think it'll take him to find it?" he asked triumphantly.
Jazz yawned. "Boring."
He crossed muscular arms. "What's it gonna take, huh? I'd like to see you do something better."
"I'm not the one trying to prove I'm a criminal."
"Fine," the man said resolutely, gaze fixing on the black phone behind the Specialty Cheese counter. He looked left and right, then slipped behind the unmanned work station. "How do I call the front desk?"
"For what, Bran?"
"Just tell me how to use the phone."
"Pick it up and dial 22101." She tapped her foot curiously while he held the phone to his ear and waited for someone to pick up.
"We're sorry. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please hang up, and try your call again later." He slammed down the phone, and instantly dialed a second time.
"You're resorting to crank-calling, Bran? What is that supposed to prove, besides that you're annoying?"
The man held up a finger to silence her. "All our operators are busy now. If you'd like to make a call, hang up and try again later." He followed the message with a couple more sentences in Spanish, and hung up a second time. "Let me have a couple more rounds with them, and you'll see."
"No, you crazy hombre. I'm gonna show you how it's done, all right?" Jazz slid behind the counter and took the phone from him. She paused to hit the feature button on the hand-set that controlled the intercom, and cleared her throat before speaking into the phone.
"Attention, shoppers, for an important announcement from Dean and Deluca. The management regrets to inform you that due to the impending Snowmageddon, the world is about to end. Also, the store will be closing in five minutes. Please bring your purchases to the front end, and prepare to vacate the premises. Thank you."
Jazz took a moment to smirk at her husband's wide-eyed stare, and then chuckled over the mad dash of shoppers scrambling for the check-out counters. "That's how you make trouble."
Nearly three hours had passed before Jazz and Brandon exited the elevators at Yousai loaded down with bags, leaving yet more behind on the floor. The instant the woman got the door to the Den open, Karina descended upon her like a hawk preparing to carry off prey.
"Where have you been?" the Latina demanded.
Jazz scowled. "Uh, hello? You sent us into the pre-snowstorm bedlam. Did you think we'd be back in five minutes?"
"That was at noon!" the woman exclaimed, giving her brother an evil eye as Brandon entered the room. "I told you I was under a strict time frame for dinner."
He shrugged innocently. "It was a jungle out there."
Karina's forehead crinkled as she reached to take some of Jazz's bags. "These sacks are different."
Jazz maintained a straight face, barely. "They're from Food Emporium."
"Why'd you make more than one stop? I gave you enough money to pick up everything from Dean and Deluca."
She headed for the kitchen nonchalantly. "Ye-ah, well...we're sorta not allowed to go back there."
Karina caught up with her in a flash. "What do you mean you're not allowed?"
Jazz grinned. "You'll have to get someone else to pick up your fancy ingredients."
"What did you do?" The other woman whirled toward Brandon. "Hermano. What did you do?"
"Those people have no sense of humor." Brandon continued walking past them to drop his load, winking at Jazz over his shoulder.
She snorted and left her remaining bags on the table, ignoring Karina's steely look.
"Jazz, what happened?!"
"I'm gonna grab some more bags." Brandon excused himself quickly.
Jazz tried not to smile while sidestepping the Latina yet again, and headed to the couch where Michelangelo was cuddling her two-year-old in his lap. She flicked the orange-masked turtle's shoulder and and waved when Alena saw her.
"Mommy!"
"Gimme my kid, Mikey. You can go put your muscles to good use with my husband."
"Aw, I don't wanna." Mike squeezed the dark-haired little girl tighter, but then handed her over to Jazz. "Hey, did you catch any of the stuff happening at Dean and Deluca? News said they almost had a riot this afternoon."
"A riot?" Karina repeated.
"Yeah, Bran and I saw it." Jazz bit her lip to keep from laughing. "People get really touchy about their groceries these days."
"They had to call the police and everything!" Mike proclaimed.
Karina shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense."
"At the end of the world, few things do," Jazz said solemnly, resting Alena on her side. "C'mon, big girl. Time for your bath."
"Jazz, I'm not done with you-" Karina called after her.
"Sorry, Chica. Little busy right now. I'll be happy to run future errands for you – just don't ask me to visit potential riot zones. Gotta go..."
Jazz exchanged a glance with Brandon as he came back through the door. His expression almost made her bust out laughing again. Controlling it was so hard that she picked up speed to get back to the elevator. Best. Shopping trip. Ever.