sweatshirts.
Checking again that the sales staff was busy and that no customers were in sight, he kicked his tennis shoes off and slipped the jeans on over the scrubs, not an easy feat with his thigh throbbing and the stitches pulling. Although he could have used a 33, they fit well enough so as not to attract attention. He pulled a gray sweatshirt off the table in front of him, used his teeth to break off the tag, and slipped the garment over his head.
He shoved his tennis shoes back on and faced the task of having to somehow bend over to tie the laces. He was able to knot the right by resting his foot on the display, but there was no way he could lift the left to do the same. Gingerly, he knelt down as far as he could, resting his head against the display for balance. He tied a quick knot, then pulled himself up and glanced around to see if anyone was watching.
Convinced he had remained unnoticed, he moved off into the sportswear department in search of a jacket, where he found himself staring at a full-size fashion photo in the adjacent lingerie section of a twenty-something woman smelling a red rose.
Rose—
“Can I help you?” The voice was sweet and youthful.
Chambers turned and a woman in her early thirties was standing there, her eyebrows raised. “Uh, I’m looking for the entrance to the mall.”
She directed him out of the store, and a couple of minutes later he was moving past the various cart vendors who had set up shop along the center of the ground-floor walkway. The one selling fresh cut flowers caught his attention. He was greeted by a thin woman holding an arrangement of long-stemmed roses accented by a smattering of baby’s breath. She smiled broadly and locked eyes with Chambers. “Would you like a bouquet for your loved one? It’s only eleven ninety-nine...”
Chambers was staring at the roses, mesmerized by the deep crimson velvet of the petals. He shook his head, then backed away from the woman, who had turned her attention to the next customer standing at her booth. He turned and bumped into a blue kiosk with the GlobalNet logo emblazoned on the side. He stood there reading the advertisement scrolling across the computer screen: “The world within your reach.” His eyes glided down to the keyboard, where instructions were mounted: “To access the Internet via GlobalNet’s lightning fast broadband, swipe your credit card in the slot to the left...”
The Internet.
Chambers sat down in the seat and watched as the words scrolled by him: “Send or retrieve e-mail messages, surf the Web, make purchases...” He looked down at the console again. “Set up your own free Hotmail® e-mail account. Just swipe your card to log on...”
Chambers glanced at the screen.
The world within your reach.
He shook his head.
That’s what we have at the office. The office—what office?
He slammed his fist down on the console and tried to concentrate.
The world within your reach.
Roses.
No, just rose.
Just Rose.
Then it hit him: just_rose@hotmail. Yes, that was familiar. But what did it mean? Was it his own e-mail address? A friend’s? His mother’s? A girlfriend’s? Who was Rose?
Chambers let his eyes roam around the mall. He needed a credit card. He headed toward the other end of the mall, then entered a Dillard’s department store. He wound his way to the women’s petite section, where he chose a rack that provided an adequate view of the cashier. Waiting for the right moment to approach, he watched four women come and go, only one of whom had placed her credit card on the counter in such a position that he could have safely taken it. But it was a proprietary Dillard’s card, and it would not have done him any good.
Just then, the cashier placed a Citi MasterCard on the countertop and moved to lift the phone. Chambers quickly made his way toward the register and placed his hands on the cold laminate—his right hand covering the credit card.
As the woman hung up, he excused himself.
Checking again that the sales staff was busy and that no customers were in sight, he kicked his tennis shoes off and slipped the jeans on over the scrubs, not an easy feat with his thigh throbbing and the stitches pulling. Although he could have used a 33, they fit well enough so as not to attract attention. He pulled a gray sweatshirt off the table in front of him, used his teeth to break off the tag, and slipped the garment over his head.
He shoved his tennis shoes back on and faced the task of having to somehow bend over to tie the laces. He was able to knot the right by resting his foot on the display, but there was no way he could lift the left to do the same. Gingerly, he knelt down as far as he could, resting his head against the display for balance. He tied a quick knot, then pulled himself up and glanced around to see if anyone was watching.
Convinced he had remained unnoticed, he moved off into the sportswear department in search of a jacket, where he found himself staring at a full-size fashion photo in the adjacent lingerie section of a twenty-something woman smelling a red rose.
Rose—
“Can I help you?” The voice was sweet and youthful.
Chambers turned and a woman in her early thirties was standing there, her eyebrows raised. “Uh, I’m looking for the entrance to the mall.”
She directed him out of the store, and a couple of minutes later he was moving past the various cart vendors who had set up shop along the center of the ground-floor walkway. The one selling fresh cut flowers caught his attention. He was greeted by a thin woman holding an arrangement of long-stemmed roses accented by a smattering of baby’s breath. She smiled broadly and locked eyes with Chambers. “Would you like a bouquet for your loved one? It’s only eleven ninety-nine...”
Chambers was staring at the roses, mesmerized by the deep crimson velvet of the petals. He shook his head, then backed away from the woman, who had turned her attention to the next customer standing at her booth. He turned and bumped into a blue kiosk with the GlobalNet logo emblazoned on the side. He stood there reading the advertisement scrolling across the computer screen: “The world within your reach.” His eyes glided down to the keyboard, where instructions were mounted: “To access the Internet via GlobalNet’s lightning fast broadband, swipe your credit card in the slot to the left...”
The Internet.
Chambers sat down in the seat and watched as the words scrolled by him: “Send or retrieve e-mail messages, surf the Web, make purchases...” He looked down at the console again. “Set up your own free Hotmail® e-mail account. Just swipe your card to log on...”
Chambers glanced at the screen.
The world within your reach.
He shook his head.
That’s what we have at the office. The office—what office?
He slammed his fist down on the console and tried to concentrate.
The world within your reach.
Roses.
No, just rose.
Just Rose.
Then it hit him: just_rose@hotmail. Yes, that was familiar. But what did it mean? Was it his own e-mail address? A friend’s? His mother’s? A girlfriend’s? Who was Rose?
Chambers let his eyes roam around the mall. He needed a credit card. He headed toward the other end of the mall, then entered a Dillard’s department store. He wound his way to the women’s petite section, where he chose a rack that provided an adequate view of the cashier. Waiting for the right moment to approach, he watched four women come and go, only one of whom had placed her credit card on the counter in such a position that he could have safely taken it. But it was a proprietary Dillard’s card, and it would not have done him any good.
Just then, the cashier placed a Citi MasterCard on the countertop and moved to lift the phone. Chambers quickly made his way toward the register and placed his hands on the cold laminate—his right hand covering the credit card.
As the woman hung up, he excused himself.
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