by R. A. Mejia
The blonde guy turns back to me and slams his hand on the counter and says, “You hear my date. We’ll take one of each!” As he speaks, I finally notice that his words are a little slurred and his breath makes the hairs in my nose curl. These guys must be coming back from some party or something and decided they needed even more to drink. If it weren’t for self-driving cars, these idiots would probably kill someone on the road tonight.
I decide to use Inspect to get their names in case they cause some trouble in the store. Oddly, the skill doesn’t give me as much detail on them as it did for the other customer.
Auden Arschloch III
Level 8
Jeremy Dolton
Level 6
Amanda Binesmith
Level 4
Cortney Wakesfield
Level 5
While I’m puzzled by the addition of information about levels, at least I know what their names are. The blonde douche at the counter is Auden. His muscular, brown-haired friend is Jeremy. Amanda is the blonde bombshell, and Courtney is the lady with the long dark hair. I’m going to guess that Courtney is Jeremy’s date since he has his arm around her and is trying to grab her boob.
I turn around and bag bottles of Bacardi, Crown Royal, Jose Cuervo, and Smirnoff Vodka. When I turn back, I see the blonde guy caressing Samantha’s hand and waggling his eyebrows at her. She’s trying to gently take her hand back and giving him a disgusted look. I put the bag of liquor on the counter, and I’m about to tell the blonde idiot and his group to get the hell out of the store when I hear a retching sound. I look past the guy in front of me and see one of the ladies in the fancy dresses bent over hurling.
Samantha pulls her hand away from Mr. Blonde, Tall, and Rich, then points at the girl, “Isn’t that your date?”
Auden turns around and sees his beautiful date wipe the last bit of bile from her mouth. “Goddamnit, Amanda. You got some on my shoes. What the hell?!?”
I hear Samantha stifle a laugh and I can’t help but smirk at the sight of this rich asshole yelling at his date about his fancy schmancy shoes getting dirty. I hope he slips in the vomit and messes up his whole outfit.
Auden turns back to me, his face no longer carrying a boyish smile. Instead, there is clear anger. He reaches into his pocket, grabs something, throws it at me and yells, “Pick up this mess!”
The object hits my chest and lands on the counter. I look down to see three, hundred-dollar bills. Auden grabs the bag of liquor and takes Amanda, his date by the arm and drags her from the store. His buddy and the other girl following behind.
I’m ready to grab the mop and pick up the mess when I hear the roar of an engine. I look out the store window facing the street just in time to see a yellow sports car speed past, the four people who just left in the car's seats. That’s where I saw that guy! That’s the jerk that threw coffee at me and broke my phone. My blood begins to boil at the thought of that ass hat coming into my work and screwing around with me here too. What, is the guy stalking me now?
Visions of violent retribution float through my mind when I remember that he just bought four bottles of liquor and is driving around town, undoubtedly drinking them as he goes. I can’t help but smile at the delightful vengeance that is coming his way.
I turn to Samantha, who’s just staring at the pool of vomit on the floor in front of the counter. “Hey, Sam. You have your cell phone on you?”
She turns to me a puzzled look on her face. “Yeah. It’s in my purse, why?”
“I was wondering if I could borrow it for a few minutes. Mine is broken. I need to report some drunk asshole driving through town in a yellow sports car.”
Reputation increase with Samantha.
Samantha smiles evilly at me. “Sure. You can borrow it. But you also have to clean up the puke.”
I agree to her terms. Vengeance is worth the price of mopping.
Chapter 10
After basking in my revenge, I have to pay the cost. I grab the mop and bucket and clean up the pile of vomit that was generously donated to the store. The rest of the night goes like it normally does. Customers come in and out, we ring up their purchases, and they leave. I chit chat a little with Samantha, but she spends most of her time looking through some of the store's magazines or on her phone.
I, on the other hand, spend most of my time trying to raise my Inspect skill. After using it on just about everything I could think of in the store and the dozen or so customers that have come through tonight, I finally raise Inspect to level 2.
It turns out that all that changed is that it reveals a bit more information about something. For food, it now shows how many calories it has and what it’s made out of. For people, it reveals some details I’m not sure I wanted to know. I test the level 2 Inspect out on Samantha.
Samantha Stapleton
Sam to her friends, she’s been an employee of Quickie Stop Mart for three years. She has a two-year-old daughter that she raises by herself. She is also secretly taking online classes to get an associate’s degree in accounting.
Likes: Alternative baby heavy metal punk rock, hair dye, Kevin Smith Podcasts, my little ponies, and having her hair pulled.
Dislikes: Uptight people, men who neither grow nor show, taxes and the color puke green.
Yeah. I didn’t know all that about Samantha, and now I can’t unknow it. It feels like an invasion of privacy to suddenly know all that about Samantha when she wasn’t the one that told me about it. Still, it makes sense now why she’s late all the time and has to leave suddenly so much.
Samantha’s voice breaks me out of my thoughts. When I look up, I see her holding her cell phone. “Hey, man, I have to take off.”
I look out the store window and see that the sun is just coming up, which tells me that it’s near the end of the shift. I turn back to her and nod. “Sure, Sam. The store is pretty slow this time of the morning.”
Samantha doesn’t seem to expect this answer from me and is frozen open-mouthed as if she was planning on justifying her early departure. “Wait. No lecture about being responsible or staying till you agreed to?”
I wince at the accurate description of my usual response. However, that was before I knew about Samantha’s kid. Now I can’t help but think that either her babysitter canceled or something happened. I know it was difficult taking care of my sister when she was two years old. She was walking and talking and making messes everywhere. They don’t call them the terrible twos for no reason. “Yeah, Sam. We all have things to take care of sometimes. I get it. I’ll let Mr. Smith know you had to take off. Just leave him a message on the office phone to tell him why.”
Samantha squints at me, still not quite believing that I’m not lecturing her. Still, she’s not one to turn away from a good situation, and she grabs her bag and waves goodbye as she leaves.
It really isn’t a big deal that she leaves early. We’d be lucky to get one or two customers this early in the morning, and Mr. Smith should be here soon. I’m getting ready to count out the cash in the register when the door chimes and in walks in one of the hottest women I’ve ever seen. She’s about five foot nine inches tall and has long gorgeous red hair. She is wearing a dark green sleeveless top with a plunging neckline and a black skirt that almost reveals too much as she walks. My eyes are glued to her as she walks through the store grabbing a few items. The mysterious beauty comes to the counter, and I have to consciously remind myself not to stare at her. I ring up her water, salad, and aspirin without saying a word. As I hand her the items in a bag, she graces me with a stunning smile and says, “Thank you.”
I want to be suave and cool and respond with something like ‘No, thank you. You make the world a brighter place when you smile like that. Can I take you out sometime?’ Instead, I croak out something that sounds suspiciously like, ‘Will you have my babies?’ as she walks out the door. My face pressed against the window behind the front counter, I’m trying to get one last glimpse of the gorgeous redhead, when I hear a voice say, �
��Uh, hello. Can I get some customer service here? Or is your attention only for people you want to have your babies?”
I turn around slowly to see a girl my age with dirty blonde hair waiting. I feel embarrassed; the girl must have been waiting right behind the redhead I had focused on. I gulp once to swallow the drool that was pooling in my mouth, straighten my back, put on my best customer service smile, and address the young lady in front of me, “Good morning. How may I help you?”
The young woman tilts her head slightly and raises an eyebrow inquisitively, “Really? Are you just going to pretend none of that just happened? Ok. I can go along with that.” Smirking, she continues, “I’m here to talk about some other stuff anyway, Anthony.”
The casual use of my name sends warning signals to my brain. Do I know this girl? Did we hook up at a party or something? I rack my brain, but I don’t think that I’ve ever met her before. Then the question is, where did she get my name? She couldn’t have gotten my name from my name tag; it reads ‘A. Tinoco.’ My first name isn’t on it. I use Inspect on the girl.
Lillian Coke
Level 7
But just like with those rich kids, all I get is her name and something about level seven. I take a good look at the girl and see that she has a black backpack whose straps she’s holding in her hands over a dark blue jacket with a hoodie sticking out of the back. She has a graphic t-shirt on underneath the jacket and is also wearing wrinkled blue jeans and black converse high tops. Now that I get a good look at her, she’s kind of cute too. She has blue eyes, a round face, a button nose, and a light sprinkling of freckles along her cheeks.
I try to keep a calm demeanor. There could be any number of reasons that this chick knows my name. Besides, two can play the ‘I know your name game.’ “Ok, you need to talk to me about something? Fine. First tell me how you know my name, Lillian.”
Lillian smiles and responds, “The same way you now know mine. I used Inspect.”
When she uses the term for the skill I’ve been practicing all night, the room starts to spin a little. I put both my hands on the counter in front of me to steady myself. All night I’ve felt special, thinking that I had some cool superpower or something. Now, this girl is telling me she knows about it too? Nope. Nope. Nope. Time for some denial.
I shake my head, avoiding her gaze. “Uh, sorry, miss. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Her arms cross in front of her chest, and she asks, “Oh? Have you recently had a bout of severe headaches and body pains? That was the System making adjustments to your body and mind. The first skill you probably learned was Inspect, right? It usually is. One moment you’re looking at something and the next you’ve got some blue screen popping up telling you new information.”
Oh my god. She does know. Can she read my mind? Has she been spying on me? How does she know so much?
She must see the panic I suddenly feel because she puts both her hands up and explains, “Don’t look at me that way. I went through the same stuff. Admittedly, I was much younger and had the guidance of my parents and the community to help me. You don’t though. So, that’s why I’m here. To help you understand what’s happening to you and how you can use it. For someone like you, it’s the gift of a lifetime.”
Ok. There are other people with this stuff happening to them? Why don’t more people know about it? What does she mean, ‘someone like me?’
Trying not to give anything away, I straighten up and cross my arms across my chest. “I’ll admit, you’ve made me curious. But what proof do you have about all this stuff you’re talking about?”
She smiles as if she was just waiting for me to ask that question. “Follow me, and you’ll have all the proof that you could ever want.”
Not waiting for a reply, she turns around and walks to the back of the store. Despite the cynical part of me screaming that I shouldn’t trust this girl, I follow her past all the snacks and cold drinks. She stops at the door to the storage room. My first instinct is to tell her that she’s not allowed in there and that the door is locked, but from the mischievous look on her face, I don’t think either statement would matter. This girl looks used to going just about anywhere she pleases.
Lillian’s hand reaches into her pants pocket and produces a silver key which she inserts into the storage room lock. I laugh, thinking that she has a bump key or something similar that lets her break into cheap door locks. Mr. Smith invests in good locks that prevent that kind of stuff. However, when she turns the silver key, I hear a click and the entire door changes colors from white to green. I take an involuntary step back, knock over a few bags of chips, and stare in wonder at the color change. I touch the door to make sure she just didn’t pull some magic trick. Nope, it’s real.
Lillian giggles at my reaction. “If you’re impressed by that, I can only imagine what you’ll do when we go inside.”
Quickly getting over my awe of the color changing door, I respond, “Inside the storage room? I’ve been in there before and the only surprising thing you’ll find there are some of the expiration dates on the energy drinks. I think some don’t expire for a decade.”
She shakes her head and smiles as if she knows a secret and I don’t. “Come inside, and you’ll see what I mean.”
Lillian turns the now unlocked doorknob and opens the green door. The space beyond is dark, but I think I can hear music coming from somewhere beyond. Did Samantha leave something on back there?
Lillian’s already walked through the green door and is holding it open for me with her hand outstretched, waiting for me to take hold of it. I look at her outstretched hand and for some reason start to reach out for it.
However, my hand stops just shy of her fingertips as I hear the store’s door chime. I turn my head and see Mr. Smith walk in the door. He hasn’t seen me yet, but it won’t take him long to notice I’m not at the front counter. My hand still outstretched, I turn back to Lillian. “Look, you’re cute, and normally I’d be thrilled to spend some time with you in a dark storage room. But my boss just came in, and I need to head home.”
The still smirking Lillian grabs my hand gently. “Don’t worry; it’ll only take a minute. He won’t even notice you're gone. I promise.” Then before I can respond, her grip on my hand tightens and I feel her weight shift. She pulls down on my hand hard. The move catches me off guard, and I feel myself falling forward through the green doorway into the darkness beyond.
Chapter 11
I hear the door close and find myself fumbling around in the dark. I wave my hands around, searching for the switch on the wall. The heck with the switch, where’s the wall? My outstretched hands brush against something soft and squishy. I pause for a moment to try and figure out what it is. I squeeze the object, and I hear Lillian cry out, “Hey, keep your hands to yourself! You don’t get to second base till at least the third date.”
I pull my hands back, glad that the darkness hides my red face. I hear Lillian fumble with something, and then a light appears in the darkness. It takes a second for my eyes to adjust, but I see that Lillian has pulled her phone out of her pocket and the meager light from her screen illuminates part of the room. She swings the phone left, then right, searching for something in the dark. I hear her say, “There it is.” I hear a click, and the room lights up.
A sudden explosion of light from the ceiling above blinds me momentarily. When I blink away the spots, I find I’m not in the convenience storage room, but an office with expensive looking furniture and a massive, detailed wooden desk at the far end. The room has large art pieces hung on the walls and a thick, lush carpet. Windows line the left wall, floor to ceiling, and look out onto a city I don’t recognize.
Faced with the sudden change in locale, all I can think to say is, “Holy shit! Where are we?”
Lillian smiles at me, drops her backpack, and hangs up her coat on a tall oak rack in the corner of the room. She walks up to the large windows and looks out onto the massive cityscape. “We are in New York City. One
of the most densely populated cities in the U.S.”
“Really?” I walk over to the window and see skyscrapers. I look down and see that we must be up pretty high because all those people on the street look like little scurrying ants. I don’t know if we’re really in New York or not, but I know we’re not in the Quickie Stop Mart anymore.
Lilian takes one last look out the window, then goes and sits behind the massive desk. She motions for me to sit in one of the two cushioned seats in front of the desk. I follow her direction, still confused by the whole situation. I mean, one second I think I’m going into the storage room with a cute girl and the next I’m in a fancy office in New York.
Lillian leans forward in her seat and steeples her fingers together. She looks me up and down as if weighing and measuring me, then says, “While I’m sure that a million questions are running through your head, the big one is probably ‘how did I get here?’”
I nod dumbly. Yup, that was the exact question I had. How the heck did I get here from the convenience store? It’s like this lady can read my mind.