The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good

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Girl Like That

He leant over the rack, seeming to pore furiously over the selection there. But his eyes were on the girl behind the counter, on her eyes. He'd never been one for timing, but if ever there was a time, it was now. Pretending to absently scratch his belly, he casually raised the hem of his shirts up every-so-slightly and in a flash of the inert plastic casing, the CD was tucked safely in his pants. The trick was to tuck it low enough that it wouldn't ride up and fall out, but yet not so low that it would sink down and make a nest of his drawers. Or so he figured; he'd never done this before.

He stopped shielded by the sunglass rack and adjusted his cargo. This had to be perfect to be believable. Then he turned to make his way casually out the door. He risked a glance at the clerk— dammit, it wasn't going to work! But no, then she jumped the counter, all boots and fishnet coming for him with the rush of vinyl skirt.

"Putrefactory scum!" she screamed, her face twisted with animation. "I've seen you, in here every day for the past week," she had him by the chains around his neck now, "always looking, never buying. Is this why?" At "this", she jerked his shirts skyward and plucked the jewel case from its seat behind his belt buckle. She sneered at him, "Dreamboat Annie?" with such utter incredulity that it almost made him melt. It was definitely not this month's most choice selection to purloin.

His chance had arrived. Pushing down his timorousness, he levelled his gaze at her sweetly hazel eyes and said: "I was trying to steal your Heart." And he meant it.

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