people are cutthroat."
Chase pulled into the spot vacated by the geriatric. It was not to her liking being right next to the cart return, thus putting her side panels at risk, but it would have to do. "I have a real job,"she contended.
"No, Gitana has a real job. All you have to do is write fifteen a day, keep your editor happy by turning things in on time and kiss your publisher's ass once in a while to keep on her good side."
"I suffer from writer's cramp and chapped lips," Chase said. She puckered her lips and made kissing noises.
Lacey collected her enormous purse and they exited the car. They entered the store, careful to avoid people with diminishedmreflexes now armed with shopping carts. The line for the pharmacy was long.
Chase glanced at Lacey who was studying the labels of diet foods that lined the aisle. She sighed heavily and then whispered, "This is going to take forever."
"No, it's not. These people know what they're doing. Most of them have four-dollar prescriptions and pay in cash," Lacey responded not looking up.
"How do you know all this?"
"Duh, I have to get my birth control pills every month."
Having never bothered with contraception, this was news to Chase. She studied the older people in line. Waiting was always good for observation. She just had to get in the zone—that place where the person she observed made a picture in her mind, then she logged the details—their appearance, choice of shoes, their hands, the cadence of their voices, word choice, the banal stories they told to others. It all imprinted itself on her mind—stored away for future use.
Lacey broke her concentration. She picked up a Slim-Fast bar and asked, "Do you think this stuff tastes good?"
"No," Chase replied.
"Why not? It says it does."
"If something is supposed to have sugar in it and they take the sugar out it's like a house where you have removed the studs. What happens then?"
Lacey was an avid watcher of HGTV. It was like her college. Her eyes brightened. "Why, it would collapse."
"Consequently, sugar-free chocolate bars are studless."
Lacey wrinkled her brow. Chase smiled. Lacey wasn't one for quantum leaps.
A silver-haired well-coiffed woman waiting in line ahead of them turned around. "Honey, that stuff stinks."
She snatched it from Lacey and threw it at the magazine stand. She just missed the redneck with his butt crack showing as he leaned over to reach for the Low Rider magazine with a car and a woman with abnormally large breasts on the cover. He appeared not to notice the flying candy bar as he ogled the magazine.
"Wow, you've got an arm," Chase said. Not a softball player herself, she still admired the sport.
The woman smiled. She had sparkling white teeth and red lipstick—some of which was on her teeth. Chase admired that quality—if you're going to wear it, keep it on your lips and off your teeth. She suspected it was an expense thing—cheap stuff on the teeth, department store on the lips.
"Used to play fast pitch back in the day. I was a first-string pitcher."
Lacey was glaring at the redneck drooling over the magazine. "Could you hit that guy over there with the butt crack?"
"If I wanted to." The woman studied him and then pursed her lips in obvious contempt.
Lacey handed her a candy bar.
The woman smiled. "This is just between us." Chase and Lacey gave her my lips are sealed gesture.
The butt crack man stood unawares.
The silver-haired woman cocked her still lethal arm. "This is for the ladies, you big pervert." She let loose. The candy bar cold-cocked him in the back of the head. He turned around glaring, in search of the perpetrator.
Lacey was studying the label on a Slim-Fast can. The silver-haired woman looked straight ahead and then glanced at her watch affecting impatience. Chase picked up several cans of Slim-Fast as if to purchase them.
Finding no one to
Chase pulled into the spot vacated by the geriatric. It was not to her liking being right next to the cart return, thus putting her side panels at risk, but it would have to do. "I have a real job,"she contended.
"No, Gitana has a real job. All you have to do is write fifteen a day, keep your editor happy by turning things in on time and kiss your publisher's ass once in a while to keep on her good side."
"I suffer from writer's cramp and chapped lips," Chase said. She puckered her lips and made kissing noises.
Lacey collected her enormous purse and they exited the car. They entered the store, careful to avoid people with diminishedmreflexes now armed with shopping carts. The line for the pharmacy was long.
Chase glanced at Lacey who was studying the labels of diet foods that lined the aisle. She sighed heavily and then whispered, "This is going to take forever."
"No, it's not. These people know what they're doing. Most of them have four-dollar prescriptions and pay in cash," Lacey responded not looking up.
"How do you know all this?"
"Duh, I have to get my birth control pills every month."
Having never bothered with contraception, this was news to Chase. She studied the older people in line. Waiting was always good for observation. She just had to get in the zone—that place where the person she observed made a picture in her mind, then she logged the details—their appearance, choice of shoes, their hands, the cadence of their voices, word choice, the banal stories they told to others. It all imprinted itself on her mind—stored away for future use.
Lacey broke her concentration. She picked up a Slim-Fast bar and asked, "Do you think this stuff tastes good?"
"No," Chase replied.
"Why not? It says it does."
"If something is supposed to have sugar in it and they take the sugar out it's like a house where you have removed the studs. What happens then?"
Lacey was an avid watcher of HGTV. It was like her college. Her eyes brightened. "Why, it would collapse."
"Consequently, sugar-free chocolate bars are studless."
Lacey wrinkled her brow. Chase smiled. Lacey wasn't one for quantum leaps.
A silver-haired well-coiffed woman waiting in line ahead of them turned around. "Honey, that stuff stinks."
She snatched it from Lacey and threw it at the magazine stand. She just missed the redneck with his butt crack showing as he leaned over to reach for the Low Rider magazine with a car and a woman with abnormally large breasts on the cover. He appeared not to notice the flying candy bar as he ogled the magazine.
"Wow, you've got an arm," Chase said. Not a softball player herself, she still admired the sport.
The woman smiled. She had sparkling white teeth and red lipstick—some of which was on her teeth. Chase admired that quality—if you're going to wear it, keep it on your lips and off your teeth. She suspected it was an expense thing—cheap stuff on the teeth, department store on the lips.
"Used to play fast pitch back in the day. I was a first-string pitcher."
Lacey was glaring at the redneck drooling over the magazine. "Could you hit that guy over there with the butt crack?"
"If I wanted to." The woman studied him and then pursed her lips in obvious contempt.
Lacey handed her a candy bar.
The woman smiled. "This is just between us." Chase and Lacey gave her my lips are sealed gesture.
The butt crack man stood unawares.
The silver-haired woman cocked her still lethal arm. "This is for the ladies, you big pervert." She let loose. The candy bar cold-cocked him in the back of the head. He turned around glaring, in search of the perpetrator.
Lacey was studying the label on a Slim-Fast can. The silver-haired woman looked straight ahead and then glanced at her watch affecting impatience. Chase picked up several cans of Slim-Fast as if to purchase them.
Finding no one to
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