Brahma
04-04-2011, 06:54 PM
A Girl Like Her
HE DIDN’T get to meet a girl like her every day, so when she walked into the shop he was up at the counter in a flash.
They were in hardware in a big way, and they ought to have had the stuff she wanted; but Clarence, their half-wit storeman, had messed up again. So there he was, apologising and running his eyes over her blonde hair and her tan and whatever else of her he could squeeze in before it became obvious.
She had cool grey eyes, and she looked directly at him and smiled.
“Not to worry,” she said.
Then she was heading for the door with him at her heels and Clarence calling to him from the back of the shop.
“Pete! Hey, Pete!”
He let her go and turned back.
“What?” he snarled at Clarence.
Clarence nodded after the girl.
“Forget it, Pete,” he said.
He could see that Clarence was serious. Those half-wit eyes were dancing with excitement.
“Do you know her?” he asked. It was incredible that Clarence could know a girl like her.
“Know about her,” Clarence said slyly.
He stifled the urge to knock the smirk off that half-wit face.
“What about her?”
“Her old man had a jewellery shop,” Clarence said, “and one day two young guys bailed him up in the strong room just before closing time.”
He edged closer, and his voice dropped a half tone.
“She came into the shop unexpectedly, saw what was happening, and closed the strong room door on the three of them.”
Clarence moved even closer and exhaled a burst of fetid breath.
“Trouble was,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “she didn’t tell anyone about it for a fortnight, and when they opened the strong room door all three of them were dead. Stinking!”
He stared at Clarence, open-mouthed.
“You mean she shut her …?”
“Uh huh.”
“You’re joking!” he said.
“No,” Clarence insisted. “God’s truth.”
“Jesus!” He felt a tremor of excitement in his stomach, though whether it was from exhilaration or fear he couldn’t know.
What he did know, in a sudden moment of crystalline clarity, was that little Miss What’s-her-name and he were not through yet. He’d bet his life on that.
HE DIDN’T get to meet a girl like her every day, so when she walked into the shop he was up at the counter in a flash.
They were in hardware in a big way, and they ought to have had the stuff she wanted; but Clarence, their half-wit storeman, had messed up again. So there he was, apologising and running his eyes over her blonde hair and her tan and whatever else of her he could squeeze in before it became obvious.
She had cool grey eyes, and she looked directly at him and smiled.
“Not to worry,” she said.
Then she was heading for the door with him at her heels and Clarence calling to him from the back of the shop.
“Pete! Hey, Pete!”
He let her go and turned back.
“What?” he snarled at Clarence.
Clarence nodded after the girl.
“Forget it, Pete,” he said.
He could see that Clarence was serious. Those half-wit eyes were dancing with excitement.
“Do you know her?” he asked. It was incredible that Clarence could know a girl like her.
“Know about her,” Clarence said slyly.
He stifled the urge to knock the smirk off that half-wit face.
“What about her?”
“Her old man had a jewellery shop,” Clarence said, “and one day two young guys bailed him up in the strong room just before closing time.”
He edged closer, and his voice dropped a half tone.
“She came into the shop unexpectedly, saw what was happening, and closed the strong room door on the three of them.”
Clarence moved even closer and exhaled a burst of fetid breath.
“Trouble was,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper, “she didn’t tell anyone about it for a fortnight, and when they opened the strong room door all three of them were dead. Stinking!”
He stared at Clarence, open-mouthed.
“You mean she shut her …?”
“Uh huh.”
“You’re joking!” he said.
“No,” Clarence insisted. “God’s truth.”
“Jesus!” He felt a tremor of excitement in his stomach, though whether it was from exhilaration or fear he couldn’t know.
What he did know, in a sudden moment of crystalline clarity, was that little Miss What’s-her-name and he were not through yet. He’d bet his life on that.