Yikes!
Nick took a step backwards, his stomach flipping over like a wet pancake. “What the heck is wrong with you, man?”
The customer swayed on his feet and groaned unintelligibly. If he had been drinking, then he must have drunk a shitload.
“I…I’m not feeling well,” said the man. His voice was thick, as though he had spoken with a swollen tongue.
“No shit,” said Paul from over by the laptops. “You look rough, mate.”
The groaning man wobbled for a moment, then managed to speak again. “I…I don’t think I can make it home. W-will you call my wife for me, please?”
Nick found himself staring for a moment, speechless. The stink coming off the other man was foul, even worse than the sickly sight of him.
Maybe he’s diabetic or something. Don’t they have a funny smell right before a coma?
Nick managed to find his voice. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “Chelsea, will you grab my mobile, please?”
Chelsea hurried over to the sales desk and procured Nick’s phone for him. She handed it over gingerly, almost as if he was contagious of something merely for talking with the smelly man in the store.
“What’s the number for your wife?” Nick asked.
The man’s eyes rolled in his skull and it seemed like he might pass out for a moment. Eventually, he managed to give a reply. “It’s…it’s – one moment. It’s 07…0798…07985…”
It took about a minute in total before the man gave out his full phone number. When Nick dialled it a woman picked up on the other end and asked who was calling.
“Oh, hi. This is Nick Adams. I’m calling from Touch Pad, one of the phone shops in town. I have your husband here with me. I’m…I’m afraid he’s not feeling very well. He needs someone to come and collect him. Would you be able to make it into town?”
Nick clutched the phone tightly to his ear and listened while the woman informed him that she could be at the store in twenty minutes. The thought of having to babysit the sick man during that time wasn’t something he was relishing, but what worried him even more was that the man’s wife also sounded pretty sick. The voice on the other end of the phone was disorientated and thick with mucus.
“Okay,” Nick uttered into his mobile as the conversation neared its end. He swallowed a spongy lump halfway down his throat. “S-see you soon.” He slid the phone into his pocket and smiled at his sickly guest, who was standing unsteadily beside him. “Your wife is on her way. She won’t be long. Perhaps you should take a seat while you wait.”
“I’ll make the poor sod a cuppa,” said Paul, already wandering off towards the back. “Looks like he could use one.”
Nick led the sick man over to the carpeted sales area where there were several places to sit. The reason that part of the floor was carpeted was to make people feel at home, relaxed and more inclined to buy. Nick thought the theory was rubbish, but what did he know?
As the sick man took a seat on one of the area’s plush, cubed sofas, Nick was forced to arc his head away as malignant body odour threatened to make his eyes water. The stench seemed to drift off the other man in hot, humid waves. Nick made sure to sit on the opposite side of the desk. But even that was too close.
“Should I do anything?” Chelsea asked him. She looked sick to her stomach and was fidgeting with her hair.
Nick waved a hand at her. “Just go, Chelsea. Paul and I will be okay to hold down the fort.”
The young girl’s shoulders loosened with relief. “You sure, boss?”
“Yeah, just get out of here. I’ll see you when you’re next in.”