Powers by Deborah Lynn Jacobs Page A

beside me and say, “Morning Sunrise,” then say to the mother of the fussy baby, “He’s hot.”
    Then I leave. I’m partway out of the store when I hear another voice.
    Can lice jump? It sounds like Gwen. I jerk my head around, looking for her, but she isn’t there.
    Could I be hearing her from a distance? Still wondering, I walk the few blocks over to First Street. A police car drives by and stops. Two uniformed cops walk into an alley and reappear half-carrying some old drunk. They pour him into the back of the police car and leave.
    Nice town.
    I walk into a store advertising a sale. Everything’s twenty-five percent off. One look tells me I’ve come to the right place. Jackets crowd the racks. One entire wall is overed with hats and gloves and something labeled “neck warmers.” They look like fleece tubes.
    â€œNeed some help?” asks a girl with a freckled nose and brown eyes.
    â€œYeah. I need some warm clothes.”
    She gives my leather coat the once-over. “Come with me. I’ll take care of you.”
    I see in her mind that she’d like to take care of me in more ways than one. Before long, I’m looking at a stack of stuff beside the cash register—a parka and boots guaranteed to keep me warm to forty below, insulated gloves, and a neck warmer.
    The girl, Mandy, rings up the sale. I whistle when I see the total.
    â€œYou could wait until next week,” suggests Mandy. “Everything’s half off then.”
    â€œHow about giving me half off now?” I give her my best little-boy smile.
    â€œI couldn’t.” Boss is on holiday. She’d never know.
    â€œNo one will know,” I push. “It’ll be our little secret.”
    She wavers. She’d never find out. Never checks my sales receipts.
    â€œI won’t tell and you won’t tell,” I say, dropping my voice down into seduction range. I slip around the counter, move in close. “Don’t make me beg, Mandy.”
    He’s adorable. Wonder how he kisses?
    I look around the store. We’re alone. I lead her behind a rack of clothes. I draw out the moment, moving in close, leaning down so our lips almost touch. I pull back to give her time to say no.
    I must be crazy, she thinks. I don’t even know him. Oh, no. Don’t leave. Do it. Do it, already.
    I mean to kiss her lightly, a mere brush of my lips on hers, but she leans into me and gives me a long, slow kiss. I break away first.
    â€œWow,” she says.
    â€œYeah, wow,” I say. “So, about that discount?”
    She hesitates, then, “Sure.”
    I pay with Dad’s debit card and tell her thanks.
    â€œWait.” She scribbles her number on a piece of paper and hands it to me. “Call me.”
    â€œI will,” I promise, as the door chimes on my way out.
    But I know I won’t. She got what she wanted. I got what I wanted. End of transaction; both parties satisfied.
    Gwen
    After calling the police, I left Joanne sipping a latte at Freshly Ground and headed over to the newspaper office, where Doug was on weekend coverage.
    â€œHey, kiddo,” Doug said. “Nice hair. So what brings you in on a Saturday?”
    â€œI’ve been thinking about that fire. I’d like to do a background article about arson. You know, typical profile, motivation, common methods. That sort of thing.”
    â€œWhat? A week ago, you said you were a photographer, not a reporter,” said Doug.
    â€œThings change,” I said. “So, can I go ahead?”
    â€œHmm, I don’t know,” said Doug, pushing his sleeves up. “We don’t want to run anything that could be seen as sensationalism.”
    â€œYou could hold it until the guy strikes again,” I said.
    â€œWhen?”
    â€œ If he strikes again.”
    Doug cracked his knuckles. I held my breath.
    â€œOkay. Go for it.”
    â€œThanks, Doug. You won’t regret