Read Spares for Free Online

sickly haze which oozed out the Mart’s tired strip lighting.
    I knew he could still see me, even though he was wrapping up a bottle for some huge black guy down the end, so I got out my wallet and made a big thing about counting through my cash. “I’ve got money,” was what I was saying. “Don’t worry. You’ll get paid.” The counterman’s big, impassive face showed no sign of having got my message. There was insufficient depth in his eyes to show if he was even looking, or just had his head pointed my way.
    Maybe I was just being paranoid. I turned my attention to the stuff in the chest fridge instead.
    “I wouldn’t if I were you,” said a low voice. I didn’t straighten, but just swiveled my eyes from side to side. I couldn’t see anyone, and it didn’t feel as if anyone was behind me. “Seriously, I can’t advise it,” the voice added, and I had my hand halfway in my jacket before I realized it was the fridge talking.
    “What?” I said quietly.
    “Don’t buy the cold goods.”
    “Why?”
    “They aren’t cold. I’ve been broken for six months, and he won’t get me fixed. Says it’s cold enough outside.”
    “You don’t agree.”
    “See that cream cheese? Been there a month. Another couple of days and it’s going to explode. And he won’t clean it up. That stain on the side there is from a yogurt that went critical a month ago.”
    I glanced round to see if the guy was looking, and saw that I was pretty well masked from him by the racks.I leaned on the front of the cooling unit and spoke quietly.
    “What can you tell me about him?”
    “He’s a slob,” the fridge said. “That’s all she wrote.”
    “Anything else? Like what his problem is?”
    “Look, I’m just a fucking fridge. Don’t buy the cold goods is all I’m saying.”
    I reached in and grabbed a pot of soft cheese, and then turned away.
    “You’ll regret it.”
    “Probably,” I agreed.
    The other side of the aisle had household goods, and I picked up a box of large Band-Aids and a couple of bars of soap. Then after some thought I picked up some disinfectant and the mop that looked least like it was secondhand, before heading down to pay.
    At the counter another random loser was stocking up on the necessities of his life. A pack of cigarettes, a bag of dope and a half bottle of Wild Thyme. Looked like he had a perfect evening ahead of him, but maybe not so good a life. I saw a flicker down by the side of the cash register and glanced to see an ancient eight-inch television. It was hot-wired to the insides of a CD ROM player that had lost its casing somewhere down the years. An old porn film flickered and hazed on the screen. The customer kept his eyes on the action while the counterman gave him his change, and then left grinning vaguely at a scene still playing in his head.
    Nice one, I thought. Skim a buck off every bone-head who’s too busy watching the skin, and each day you’ve got a little something extra for yourself.
    I dumped my goods on the counter, running my eyes over what else he had behind there. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing self-evidently dangerous.
    “Have you got a bag for that?” I asked as he started to ring up the goods.
    “One dollar.”
    “You’re kidding me.”
    He shrugged, put his hand on the next item, andwaited, eyebrows raised but not even looking at me. I got out my wallet and put a one on the counter. I had a ways to walk.
    “Your fridge is broken,” I said, looking away from him, wondering what I was doing, why I was rattling this man’s cage.
    “It’s cold enough outside.”’
    “Thought you’d say that.” I opened the pot of soft cheese. The grunge inside was covered in half an inch of lurid blue mold. The counterman smiled meaninglessly, eyes dead. Even his lips weren’t up to the job. The left side of his mouth barely moved, as if there was some deep damage there.
    “So don’t eat it.”
    “Where can I buy some real milk?”
    “It’s in the