Chapter 205: Supermarket

Sarah drove to the Bristol Farms in Malibu.

Yeah, we pay an overpriced premium for the products just to get personalized service—well, my family does, since I basically don’t go to the grocery store (I had started ignoring small amounts of money entirely).

In the parking lot, we met up with Uncle Charlie and Dad. Other cars with more security were parked nearby.
"Let’s go in," Charlie said, and the three of us followed.

Another good thing about Sarah: she turned heads just by being beautiful.
When I walk with Carter (a mountain) beside me, the attention is... different.

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I was hanging off the shopping cart, my feet on the lower frame and my hands gripping the handle, while Sarah pushed it.
We were passing through the cold cuts section when Alan spoke, "Look, the Roquefort (Papillon Noir) is on sale."

Charlie and I looked at him.
"What? Even if we have money, we still need to be responsible," he said.

"Yeah, Alan, instead of being robbed at $29 per pound, it's only $27.50 now," Charlie deadpanned, grabbing the cheese and tossing it into the cart. He started grabbing one of each package.

Then we headed to the liquor section, where Uncle Charlie truly shined.

"One Scotch Brunette (Macallan 25-Year Sherry Oak, $450), a Full-Bodied Redhead (Château Margaux 1975, $400), a Golden California Blonde (Pappy Van Winkle 23-Year, $350), and a French Widow (Château d’Yquem 1975, $450)," Charlie grinned, grabbing the last bottle.

"Charlie's Angels." He smirked as he gestured toward the bottles lined up in the cart.

"At least none of them are underage," I said dryly.

Charlie glared at me but laughed and patted my back.
"Some good bottles... for special occasions. Like this Tuesday," he said, smirking again.

"Today is Wednesday, Charlie," Alan corrected flatly.

Before anyone could say anything else more, another voice chimed in.

"Well, as I live and breathe, Charlie Harper."

A fat man walked over to greet Uncle Charlie.

"Oh, great. Archie," Charlie muttered through a forced smile.

"So how's the best jingle writer in the business?" the fatso asked pompously.

"Looks like he's put on a few pounds," Charlie joked, giving his belly a few pats.

"This is my brother Alan," Charlie continued, motioning toward Dad. "And this is my nephew Jake," he added, smiling. "Alan, Jake—Archie Baldwin, the king of jingle writers"

"Well, I don't know about that. More like the ayatollah of jingle writers. The grand Pooh-Bah, if you will," Archie remarked

"Really? What's that make you, Charlie?" Alan whispered.

"To be honest, a little nauseous," Charlie answered.

"We should get together sometime. Maybe collaborate," Archie proposed.

"I'd like that," Charlie replied with a nod, obviously not actually considering the possibility it would happen

"Well, sure, there's no downside for you," Archie pointed out. "What the hell, remind me about it at the awards dinner," he added, already pushing his shopping cart away.

"Oh, I'm not going to that," Charlie said.

"Why not? You're nominated," Archie observed.

"Wait, what are you nominated for?" Alan asked.

"It's a silly advertising award. Doesn’t mean anything,"

"Yeah, he's right. It's not about the trophies, it's about the work." Archie spoke smugly. "P.S., my work has won seven trophies. One more and I’ll have a menorah,"

"Thank God you don’t need actual knowledge to be the king of jingles," I said out loud. "A menorah has 7 candles originally. A hanukkiah has 9. Eight only works if one of them vanished into your—"

"Jake!" Dad snapped at me.

"Well, it seems like you've got a smart kid, Charlie," Archie sneered.

"Hey, he’s my son," Dad snapped at him this time.

"Well, good luck, Archie. But I think I’ll pass," Charlie muttered, already pulling us aside.

"Oh, well, good for you. Stay home and sulk," Archie threw back.

And just like that, he waddled away.

"Boy, he's a piece of work," Alan pointed out.

"He's a piece of something," Charlie snorted.

Then, Dad suddenly stopped, nearly making us run into him with the cart.

Alan tilted his head toward a blonde woman grabbing something from the shelf. "That's Cynthia Sullivan."

"Who's Cynthia Sullivan?" Uncle Charlie asked.

"She and her husband used to be friends with me and Judith,"

"Yeah, so?" 

"Well, I haven't seen her since Judith and I split up. I-I don't know if I should say hello."

"They kind of took Judith's side in the divorce," Alan added.

"Really?" I inquired, surprised. "I don't remember seeing her at our house even once these past two years..."

"Alan?" the woman turned and spotted Dad.

"Oh, hey, Cynthia," Alan greeted awkwardly.

"Wow, what a nice surprise. How are you?"

"Just great. It's... been a long time," Alan replied.

She turned her head toward me. "Hi, Jake. Look how big you're getting,"

"Hello, Cynthia," I smiled back.

"Uh, Cynthia, this is my brother Charlie,"

"Hello," Charlie greeted politely, without the usual charm 

"Uh, Cynthia and her husband were good friends with me and Judith back when we were, you know... me and Judith," Alan explained.

"And when we were me and Bill," Cynthia added.

"What? Oh, you're not with Bill anymore?" Alan said, surprised.

"No. You know, we finally decided to stop kidding ourselves. You know how it is..."

"I-I certainly do," Alan murmured.

"Well, okay, I need to get going," Cynthia said, already steering her cart forward. "It was really nice to see you again, Alan. We should get together sometime and catch up."

"Yeah, that would be nice," Alan agreed.

"Nice meeting you. Bye, Jake," she said, glancing first at Charlie, then at me.

I waved back.

"You dog," Charlie and I said at the same time, patting Dad’s back.

"What?"

"Oh, come on," I said.

"The full-frontal hug, the 'let's get together'," Charlie teased. "Isn't that like soccer mom talk for 'do me in the cul-de-sac'?"

"Charlie, you don't understand. She and her husband were our best friends for like ten years. We—we traveled together, we spent vacations together..." Alan started explaining.

I quickly cut in, "Here's what we're gonna do tonight: Dad will ask Cynthia out for dinner, while Uncle Charlie and I go to the award show."

They both looked at me.

Then, someone called me. "Jake?"

"My turn!" I said, amazed at how everyone was running into someone they knew at this market.

"Oh, it's just you, Miley..." I spoke, already motioning for Sarah to keep walking.

Miley huffed, clearly offended.

I wasn’t that bad — Later, I invited her and her friends to the party.