Other Fan Fiction ❯ Random Acts of Kindness ❯ Part one ( Chapter 1 )

Life was monotonous as a tiller, or clerk as some people called her; it was, greet, scan, scan, subtotal, ask if the customer had found everything they were looking for, total, swipe card and or accept cash, bid a good day, and repeat.

It lasted up to eight hours a day, nine if the boss agreed to overtime; nine hours standing on feet that were already aching from the day before, nine hours pretending to be happy and willing to please, nine hours dreading the next needy or huffy customer.

Nine hours of hell.

And it didn't even pay well.

Mikayla was on her seventh hour, and two hundredth and nineteenth customer; she had taken to counting as it helped hold the insanity at bay.

He was an elderly gentleman, kind and sweet, but deaf as a doorstop, and about as thick. Behind him, the matronly woman was huffing and puffing, looking at her watch and then at Mikayla, as if the man's time consuming ways were her fault.

After she had painstakingly counted out his ten euro bill in quarter euro pieces, and happily (gratefully) sent him on his way with the bag boy to carry his bags to the bus stop, she tried to greet the middle-aged Frankenstein with an ounce of friendliness, which was immediately put to waste as the woman proceeded to ream her out for taking so long and not simply calling another clerk to open another till, never mind that it was three 'o' clock in  the afternoon, and normal people didn't go shopping at that time, therefore requiring only one tiller, and the bag boy.

Anders was clueless about most things in life, including the proper running of the till, the only thing he managed to do at any level of competency was bag groceries and carry them out; such were the woes of a prepubescent fourteen year old.

Yes, that's right, prepubescent fourteen year old; the boy had the voice of a rug-rat, Angelica, to be precise. He could probably sing higher than most sopranos, and the skinny jeans he wore left none of his non existent package to imagination, it just wasn't there.

As Mikayla finished ringing up 'Frankenstein's' purchases, she mused for a moment, that perhaps Anders wasn't a boy? Or maybe he was just gay...

Thought interruption number one:

"Mikayla to the back office please, Mikayla." The intercom rang loudly across the mostly empty food market. Mikayla breathed a silent sigh, finished 'Frankenstein's' bill and bid her a kind farewell, before picking up the phone.

"I'm on till," the intercom buzzed again, her voice sounding miffed and tired over the fuzzy speakers, and then the feedback squeaked as Kale answered from his own intercom phone.

"Cancel that; Anders to the back office please, Anders."

Mikayla rolled her eyes.

Time went by in much the same manner for the next hour, the only commotion caused by a tall, slim, dark-haired-sunglass-wearing rockstar walking through the small town food market's doors, entourage in tow.

He was loud and excited, big and bouncy, and absolutely fucking gorgeous.

Mikayla hung her head, hoping that when he decided to make his purchase that he doesn't bother to look at her; her hair hadn't been brushed since that morning, and she had opted out of makeup, her uniform is a bland peach colour, making her look washed out.

She really hoped he'd just send one of his entourage to pay the bill, so she doesn't have to serve his perfect-ness, while looking like she's just rolled out of bed; but she watched, trying to hide her excitement and dread behind a look of boredom.

Anders squealed when he noticed the rock star, he flapped his hands, and Mikayla made her mind up that he must be gay, 'cause only a gay boy would look like a chicken while fussing over his idol.

Mind you, the rockstar was probably gay too (why are all the good looking ones only interested in men?). She had nothing against gay boys, except for the fact that they always tended to be the better looking of their sex, some even better looking than those of the female sex, like say, Mr. rock-star and his twin.

Anders was bubbling and 'Rock-star' was laughing, they seemed to be getting on fine, and Mikayla wonders why 'rock-star's' security isn't doing anything to keep the flailing, jumping, catastrophe of a boy away from their boss; but all too soon the two were talking like old friends and Anders was helping him locate the things he came to buy.

When 'Rock-star' came to the till with, a large bag of toilet paper, an armful of candy (the most colourful kind possible) and a can of coffee, she wonders why he didn't just send a PA for the stuff.

"Miki!" Anders shrieked, Mikayla went still, her eyes wide and face dark with a blush; she turned her hollow eyes to her co-worker and silently imagined gripping him by his ear and throwing him out of the store. 'You did not just call me Miki…'

Anders was unaware of his slip up, which will most likely cost him the chance of ever having a man's voice, by virtue of castration.

"Look! It's Bill Kaulitz!" He pointed to the man-boy standing beside him. She swallowed hard before, turning to the smiling rock-star, wishing he hadn't removed the sunglasses, so she wouldn't have had to look him in the eyes. Such big brown eyes too…

"I know…" she trails off, giving a lob-sided grin and pushed her once turquoise and black -now a strange greenish/blue colour- hair behind her ears; the action drawing attention to what she had wanted to hide. "Hi," she offers lamely.

"Hallo," he smiles, and Mikayla caught her breath before she smiled back just as brightly, unable to resist.

What was the saying about a smile? That just smiling at someone as you walked down the street could make their whole day worthwhile? Well imagine being smiled at, just for you, by the bloody gorgeous Bill Kaulitz.

How was it that a man had such perfect lips? It was so unfair, but since those lips seemed to be smiling just for her at that moment, she was willing to forgive God for not having given her a pair to rival his.

Thought interruption number two:

"Miki? Isn't that a boy's name? Or is it just a nickname? I knew a girl whose nickname was Jasper." He reached his hand across the till, offering to shake her hand and she managed not to drop the can of coffee she had been scanning and put it down before softly, dazedly taking his hand and giving it a tiny shake.

"Wow," he whispered, "your hands are so dainty!"

She bit her lip as he pulled her hand across the till towards his face; her nail polish was at least a week old chipped and the multi coloured layers of the previous weeks' applications showing through. 

"I like this green colour, it matches your hair." He offered with another smile as he let her hand go, and she blushed with mortification, he had noticed the garish green of her hair.

"It was an accident," she blurted, "it use to be black and turquoise, but it blended together when I washed it." He gave her an odd look before understanding flashed across his face.

"Oh! Did you do it yourself?"

Her eyes went wide, and he wondered if he'd said something he shouldn't before she blushes and nods quickly as she tried to scan the wrong side of a candy bag; he reached across and flips the package, acting as if it were a normal thing.

"You have to use a colour sealing shampoo then, I used to dye myself, but after the black kept bleeding in to the blond, I was forced to go professional. Here," he reached into his wallet, which had been hiding somewhere in his back pocket, which Mikayla had though fit his ass too tightly to hold anything, and pulled out a slightly rumpled business card.

"I go to this place whenever I'm in town, tell them Billa-bong sent you," he flashed a cheeky smile and leaned across the till to whisper in her ear. "It's on me."

She was still flustered and flabbergasted after he'd gone, and Anders seemed to be suffering a similar malady, as he hadn't moved from the store window in the last three minutes chanting, 'maybe he'll come back,' over and over again.

She just stared at the card, it was for some fancy downtown salon and on the back in messy handwriting was the name 'Billa-bong' and a phone number.