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“Is who here?”

“Bruce Willis” The et a picture with him”

Most people , even, that my dad shares a name with the Bruce Willis, faht It gets quite confusing for the tourists, but it’s been a serious bright spot for me in the past teeks

Especially when they stop in, trying to get autographs and roses from the man who kicked ass in Die Hard, only to find olf polo, khaki shorts, and loafers

“He’s not here” I busy ister with fresh paper “He’s in LA Shooting Die Hard 9”

“Maybe” My nore her

The ht up with equal parts confusion and excite to be a Die Hard 9?”

“Yep Die…Hardest”

Sure, it could be misconstrued as a little cruel, but I can’t help myself This is a daily conversation in the shop I have to spice things up every once in a while

He scrunches his brow “But I thought there were only five Die Hard movies…”

“I guess you’re four Die Hards short, then” I shrug “But can we interest you in a fresh bouquet of roses by Bruce Willis for your pretty wife?”

His wife smiles at me and then turns a “you better buy me some damn flowers” look toward her husband

“Uh…” He pauses, but when his eyes rees, “Y-yes Of course”

“And Bruce doesn’t think I do anything around here,” I whisper toward my mom as the man proceeds to pick his main squeeze a fresh bouquet of pink roses from one of the displays

She rolls her eyes and grins at the saible”

“And a fantastic saleswoman”

She pinches h

My e with Bruce Willis’s number one fan, and I walk toward one of the front displays and take inventory

“We’re running low on the wild flower bouquets,” I call over my shoulder just as the bell chimes the couple’s exit “Do you want me to cut some fresh ones, or do you want to?”