Chapter 3-2
2051 Words
Welcome to my life,There"s no turning back.The only other person present was a little old lady who stood flipping through the clothes on one rack. Dressed in white pants and a colourful Hawaiian shirt, she wore her gray hair in a bun.
Jack could say this much: at least this job gave him time to think. Although, given the sort of thoughts that had been racing through his head, he wasn"t sure if that was such a good thing. Just keep on attacking your own sense of self-worth, he told himself. It can only help your situation.
Just keep on attacking your own sense of self-worth,It can only help your situation.The door chime jingled.
He looked up to find a young woman coming through the front door. A short woman with a slender build, she wore a pair of gray pants and a shirt under her long brown trench coat.
Her pretty face was framed by red-gold hair that she wore tied up in a ponytail, thin bangs falling over her forehead. Now there"s something you don"t see every day. The girl looked about the room like a fox expecting hounds to come around the corner.
Now there"s something you don"t see every day.Is she casing the joint?
Is she casing the joint?A moment later, she descended the steps.
She approached one of the racks near the counter and began flipping through old t-shirts with her back to him. There were scuff marks on the back of that brown trench coat and her hair looked dishevelled.
For the next five minutes, he watched the strange young woman out of the corner of his eye, watched her move from rack to rack without choosing anything. Every now and then, she looked up at the door as though she expected trouble to come rushing in on her heels. She never so much as glanced in his direction.
That made him very uncomfortable. Jack had no desire to recall the tedious training videos they had subjected him to on his first day, but one tiny tidbit popped into his mind: shoplifters had a tendency to hide their faces.
He waited.
The young woman stood with her back to him, hands on her hips as she stared up at something on the far wall. Looking for cameras? She took a tentative step forward. Okay, that"s it.
Looking for cameras?Okay, that"s it.Jack went over to her.
The young woman spun around. A tiny jolt of anxiety went through him when she met his eyes. Her expression was serene, without a hint of emotion, and for a moment he felt silly for going over there.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jack grimaced as he studied her. “So either you"re planning to steal something,” he said, deep creases forming in his brow, “or you"re the editor for Torn Fabrics Monthly.”
Torn Fabrics Monthly“Why would you suspect me of theft?”
Chewing on his lip, Jack felt his face heat up. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath. “Well, there"s the way you keep eyeing the merchandise,” he explained. “And the fact that most young women don"t like second-hand clothes.”
“Most young women have poor taste.”
“I can"t argue with that.”
The girl scrunched up her face in frustration, then tossed her head about like a dog who had been sprayed with water. “I wish it were that easy,” she said, turning to the rack. “Clothes shopping is something of a chore, you know. First I"ve got to find something in my size, then in my price range. And if by some miracle I achieve those first two things, maybe I"ll consider whether or not I hate the sight of it.”
“Maybe I can help.”
Jack began flipping through the clothes rack. The hangers slid across the metal bar with a harsh scraping sound, offering him a glimpse of brightly coloured t-shirts in pinks and yellows. It would be the perfect selection if you just happened to be a female Power Ranger. Not much for the average woman, though. “Hey, I have an idea,” he began. “If I can find something you don"t hate, you tell me your name.”
The girl craned her neck.
A smile blossomed on her pretty face as she stared up at him with big blue eyes that sparkled. “At least your attempts at flirting are clever,” she said, nodding. “Most men just stare at my chest and think it"s a compliment.”
“Unsophisticated pigs!”
He flipped through the rack until he found a plain white t-shirt with a woman"s face smeared across the front. A quick examination made it clear that he was looking at the Britney Spears of ten years ago. “How "bout this one?” he asked, lifting the shirt for her inspection. “With this woman"s face on your chest, I can guarantee you that no one will ever check out your boobs.”
The young woman grinned, shaking her head. “An interesting choice,” she said. “But while I do enjoy striking terror into the hearts of fools, perhaps we could search for something more subdued.”
Jack put the hanger back on the rack.
After flipping through a dozen more garments, he came upon a pink tank-top with spaghetti strings that offered just enough fabric to make a hand towel. “Ah, here we are,” he murmured. “This particular number is favoured by middle-aged women who want to attract sexually inexperienced partners. We call it the Man-Maker.”
“Are we looking to become a man?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “I"m afraid that I can"t help you with that one.”
“Sorry,” Jack replied. “I didn"t mean to give you the wrong impression. You see I"m saving myself for Jennifer Lawrence.”
He returned the shirt to the rack and began sliding hangers along the metal bar. One more attempt and then it was time for his concession speech. Just as he was about to give up, he noticed a blue t-shirt with a green cartoon dinosaur on the front. Yoshi stared up at him with a glint in his eyes. “What about this?”
The young woman pursed her lips as she appraised the shirt, then nodded once in confirmation. “I love it,” she said. “How much does it cost? Sadly, I have to be careful with money.”
Jack shrugged. “Five bucks.”
“You have a deal,” she replied. “My name is Anna.”
He spent the next half hour helping Anna find enough cheap clothing to last a week. After that first success, it wasn"t hard to figure out her sense of style; if it was the kind of thing you"d find on a ten-year-old boy, she"d love it.
To his great relief, she was willing to pay for everything. He still wasn"t quite sure why she had been glancing around the room, but with no harm done, he figured there was no use in asking.
“Anna.”
“Yes, Jack?”
Jack smiled down at the floor, trying his best not to sound like a goof. “Well, I was wondering…” He looked up to meet her gaze. “You think you might like to grab a cup of coffee sometime?”
She stood before him with arms folded, blushing like the sun. “You know, I really would,” she said, lowering her eyes, “but I"m afraid I won"t be in town for very long, and I won"t have time.”
“Well…can"t blame a guy for trying.”
In the end, it was probably for the best. Just last night, he had told Genevieve that he wasn"t boyfriend material and that wouldn"t be any less true if he changed the woman involved. “Well,” Jack replied. “Let"s get you on your way.”
A few minutes later, he found himself staring down at the receipt that he"d wrung up for Anna. The list of things she"d purchased was quite extensive. Five t-shirts, two pairs of jeans, a hat and several pairs of socks. It was almost as though she didn"t own anything more than the clothes on her back.
The store was empty; he was alone with the humming fluorescent lights and musty old clothes. Through the window, he could see that traffic had come to a halt on the road. O"Connor Street usually got busy when mid-morning rolled around, and though he wished some of those people would come in and buy something – the more they sold, the more money would go to Good Will – it wasn"t likely.
Just then, he noticed the folded up red t-shirt sitting on the counter and fought off a jolt of anxiety when he realized why it was there. Anna had purchased that one – had paid him for it – and he had been so distracted by his attempt to make conversation that he had forgotten to put it in her bag.
Great.
Great.She had been gone for less than two minutes; if he hurried, he might just be able to catch her and fix his mistake. Get a move on, Hunter, he thought, snatching up the t-shirt. Karma isn"t a forgiving mistress.
Get a move on, Hunter,Karma isn"t a forgiving mistress.He bolted across the store.
Charging up the steps, he stopped just in front of the front door and tried to catch a glimpse of the young woman. Oh, wonderful, he growled in his own mind. After tormenting her with lame dialogue, you short-change her.
Oh, wonderful,After tormenting her with lame dialogue, you short-change her.He stepped outside.
Jack turned his face up to the sun. He squinted, working it out in his mind. “Almost noon,” he said to himself. “Bus won"t stop here for at least fifteen minutes. She couldn"t have gone far.”
A moment later, he was running down the small walkway in front of the strip mall. Scanning the area, he spotted her. A young woman half a block down the sidewalk stood with her back to him as cars whooshed past nearby. Jackpot! The back of her blonde head made it clear that he"d found Anna.
So consumed was he by the search, he barely noticed that he had left the strip mall behind. It was only then that he realized he was standing in the wide alley that led to the parking lot behind the store. And something caught his ear.
Jack turned.
Two young men came out from the alley behind the store dragging a third guy by his arms and dropping him in front of an old green dumpster. The leader stood with his hands on his hips.
A wiry man in blue jeans and a dirty hoodie scowled down at the man lying on his stomach. “You think you can screw me,” he said, shaking his head. “Do you think I won"t come looking for payment?”
His face was deathly pale with a forest of dark spikes on his head and a birthmark just above his left eyebrow. “Get the f**k up!” he growled. “You owe me a hundred fifty f*****g dollars, b***h!”
The accomplice was a bit more solid. Dark skin and hair, he pressed his mouth into a thin line as he stared down at the fallen man. “Better get up, Josh,” he added. “No one likes a man who can"t pay his debts.”
Out in public?
If Jack"s instincts were correct, he was now a witness to a d**g deal gone wrong. The dealers in this city had gotten a whole lot braver over the last ten years – Genevieve had told him she"d spotted a shady-looking guy selling Synth out by her high school – but common sense would suggest that this was the kind of thing that usually happened in the dark of night. Then again, d**g dealers weren"t known for their common sense.
- Writer
