Tyran's Thirst (Blood Lust) by Erika Lindsen Page A

hair
caused everyone to think I was a lesbian and men treated me as
such, my weight was an issue and of course, I was shy. Useless.
Nothing could help me. Okay, Kathryn. Don’t overdue the pity
party.
    Over the intercom, “Kathryn Meloncamp, could you please
report to customer service for customer assistance? Kathryn
Meloncamp, report to customer service.” It clicked off.
    I sighed. Customer service was my least favorite position. I
wasn’t even sure why a dairy supervisor would work there. Oh,
well. Must report before the big bad witch had her hissy fit.
    Upon reaching the desk, I saw a woman, older, with
medium blonde hair and glasses. Her Minnesota Vikings hoodie
covered down to her knees. Her stance was strong with one knee
bent. She was on a mission. More importantly, she sported a scowl
so her lower lip was pursed and eyes were narrowed into slits.
I smiled, knowing it wasn’t going to end well. “May I help
you, ma’am?”
     
She cleared her throat. “I bought these batteries the other
day and they don’t work.”
     
I checked overthe double A’s. The package was opened
and missing two batteries.
     
“Ma’am, where are the two missing batteries?” I asked.
     
“It didn’t come with them.”
     
Wanting to roll my eyes, I said, “Well, I’m sorry but we
cannot take back merchandise that’s missing parts.”
    Her eyes blazed. “Now you listen here. I bought these
fucking batteries and they don’t work. Now you’re telling me I
have to keep them because you guys didn’t pack them right to
begin with?”
I tried to stay calm. “Ma’am, if it was missing two, why did
you purchase them?”
     
Wrong thing to say. “I want to speak to someone who
knows what they’re doing, not some school kid.”
    I’ve been out of school for a few years, bitch. I nodded,
glad to get away from this lady. What did she expect from me? I
dialed the phone which linked directly to Lacy. Great. Trade one
for another.
Lacy answered, “Yes, this is Lacy Schim.”
“Hi, Lacy, this is Kathryn Meloncamp. I have a customer
up at service who is requesting to speak with you.”
     
“The woman about the batteries?”
     
“Yes.
     
“I just sent you there. Explain to me how you can’t handle
one disgruntled customer.”
    I repeated, “She would like to speak with the store
manager.”
She sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there. Keep her calm until then.”
She clicked off.
The older woman was staring me like a hawk does food. I
was in for it.
     
“Well?” she asked.
     
“Our store manager, Lacy, is coming.”
     
“Does she have more brains than you?”
    That
was it. I couldn’t take it anymore. “Listen, bitch. It is
not my fault that you bought a pack of damn batteries missing two.
Hell, you probably kept the two and are returning the rest. People
like you rip us off all the time. I could exchange or refund
defective product, but not product you have kept the pieces to.
Now, take your crap and leave.” I threw the package at her, hitting
her in the chest.
She stared at me, wide-eyed, mouth open.
     
I finished my tirade with, “Trying to catch flies with that
trap?”
     
It clamped shut.
     
I smirked and turned, only to slam in to Lacy. Her face was
red, almost purple. Oh, no. I was in deep.
     
“Kathryn, get your things and get out.”
    I knew it was over. Nodding, I walked back to the break
room to grab my jacket and purse. It was the last time I would ever
be in Food City.
    Like I would miss the place. Looking around, there was an
off-white paint that had been there longer than my own four years.
It actually appeared to have been there for twenty. The brick
accents I always found ugly and the white tile floor was stained
with the snow and mud of December.
    In the break room, I had to cover my nose at the smell of
someone’s lunch from last week that was still hanging out in the
fridge. In my locker was my patent-leather red purse and black
winter coat. I found my gloves and