PULSE

Chapter Two

[ JULY 25 ]

When Candace called for the fourth time, I let her go straight to voicemail—for the fourth time. She had been calling periodically—once every few hours—since I left the apartment early in the morning, without a word of warning or when I'd be back.

But it was only eight at night, and I was still wandering the short aisles of a local 'stop-and-shop', searching for something to fill my empty stomach and something else to stop the pulsing in my skull. I knew without a doubt in my mind that Candace would have food prepared when I decided to make my way back to the apartment, but I wasn't interested in whatever she had to prepare. Besides, food always tasted better when eaten alone.

I had just picked up a container of instant noodles and was eyeing the price label when voices rose from the other end of the small shop. After peeking between the aisles, I immediately understood why I'd recognized one of the voices—it belonged to a nosy brunette with a school blazer and a messy ponytail. The cashier took the canned juice and granola bar that she had evidently brought to him, and I ducked back down the hall, hoping to escape her notice as she finished whatever she was doing.

I scowled at the noodles, overhearing the girl as the cashier continued to ring her things.

For a moment, there was a silence, and then a shuffling of bills. Finally, she said, "Sorry, I think you forgot my change."

The cashier scoffed, pushing the register shut with a crash. He lowered his voice slightly, but not enough to keep me from hearing. "Listen. Times are tough, missy."

"I need that money," the girl insisted.

I cursed to myself under my breath, crushing the styrofoam cup of noodles slightly in my hand as I stood, heading reluctantly toward the front of the store.

The cashier leaned across the counter, eyeing her. "I'm not in a good mood. You should think about taking your juice and leaving."

I appeared behind the strange girl silently, leaning one hand on the counter and watching the man jump in surprise.

"Tell me..." I said, narrowing my eyes. "Are you a betting man?"

The cashier stared at me for a few seconds, as if trying to decipher the true meaning of my question. Finally, he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I guess."

For a moment, I only watched as he began to sweat, then pointed up at the corner near the ceiling, where a security camera was mounted.

"Do you think that camera is working properly?" I asked, watching him for any response.

He glanced up at the camera and slowly back to me. "Probably."

"So would I. That's a good bet to go with. And if you'll allow it, we can both just say that we won—that is, unless you want me to take this to whoever is in charge here and ask them to prove whether it's working properly."

The man glared daggers at me, then up toward where the camera was mounted in the corner. I stood back away from the counter, shaking the noodles in my cup and eyeing him curiously. Finally, he broke my gaze and dug into his jeans pocket, producing six crumbled dollar bills that he slapped on the counter. He began to turn and head toward the back room, but I dropped my cup on the countertop, regaining his attention.

"You can keep this. I don't think I'm hungry anymore," I said simply, watching the cashier in my peripheral. He stopped in his steps for only a moment before continuing to the back room, locking the door and leaving us on our own.