Chapter 27
David quickly gathered some snacks and soda in his cart at the Super Wally World at Monkey Junction and began looking for condoms. Where do they stock those damn things? He could never remember where they were located.
At last he found them on an end-cap display unit in the pharmacy area. There was no way that he was going to ask a Wally World employee where they were. Why, he was a man.
He then looked for the quickest checkout lane. A cute, dark-skinned girl caught his searching eye.
“I’m open,” Chantelle said with a big smile. Gorgeous. I bet she’s from the West Indies.
“Thanks,” David said, while reading a copy of The Charlotte Observer.
“What’s the big story?” Chantelle asked while scanning his junk food and assorted, carbonated, diet beverages.
“Oh, it’s not really a big story, I guess, in the global scheme of things.” David then showed her the article about the deaths of Mark and Susan. Both of their photos accompanied the three-paragraph, mid-section article.
Chantelle looked like she had seen a ghost. “Mon dieu!” Chantelle exclaimed much louder than she intended. “Oh, my lord!”
“Are you French?” David inquired, unfazed by her outburst, assuming she was just shocked by the death of a couple at the beach.
“I was born in Haiti, but I’ve lived in the United States for the past five years,” she politely stated in that unmistakable tropical island accent. “I met that man in the photo. Yes, it was him. I am sure of it. Ab-sooo-lutely.”
“You met Mark van Buren?” David wasn’t sure if he could trust her judgment, but was incredibly intrigued by her remark. Is she pulling my leg? I wish she’d pull on my third one later on.
“Yes. I know it was him. He came through my line late last Friday night. Well, actually it was Saturday morning, maybe about two AM.” She sounds convincing. If she’s a liar, she’s damn good. I think she’s telling the truth. I’ll just give her the benefit of my current state of belief.
“Wow, what was he buying, if I may ask? A case of beer, perhaps, Chantelle?” He read her name tag.
David felt confident that he had guessed Mark’s just-before-two-o’clock purchase. Beer drinkers are always aware of the two o’clock hour in North Carolina. They often rush to the stores near the beaches at 1:50 AM on weekend nights to get their last supply of suds.
“He bought a matching pair of dark-red suitcases. And, no, not any beer. Yes, I can see them now. They were wine-colored. A large and small one.” A pair of suitcases? Didn’t he bring luggage down in the rental car? Did he leave Charlotte in that much of a rush? Why does he need to buy a set of suitcases at two in the morning? Man, this gets weirder by the moment.
Chantelle scanned the chocolate-flavored condoms and looked at David. “I bet these taste good.” What did she just say?! / I bet that line got his attention. Yep, it sure did.
<gulp> David was a little flustered. “Uh, yeah, I think so.” Damn, she knocked me off balance with that line.
“It comes to $18.18. How would you like to pay?”
“I’ll use my debit card. Thanks.”
“Just slide it in the slot,” Chantelle said while licking her upper lip. Slide it ‘in’ the slot? Not ‘through’ the slot? An interesting choice of a preposition, I’d say. Hmmm, this could be a great day followed up by an amazing night. But, I need to stay gold-focused. That’s the only priority. Don’t get distracted by her thing. Sex can wait for now; they’ll be plenty of that later.
David almost missed her salacious signal, but caught her pointed tongue just before it went back in her luscious mouth. He felt a cramp in his crotch.
“Certainly,” he finally responded.
“If you’d like to know more about Mark … or me, just call me after seven – it’s when I get off. Well, actually, that might be later.” Wowzers! Did she just say that?
Chantelle then handed him a piece of blank register tape with her name and phone number written on it.
David put it in his wallet next to his debit card. Some days you just can’t lose. My mega-lucky day! Put this one in a bottle for safe keeping.
“Wow, sure.” David was smiling.
“When you call, what shall I call you?” Chantelle asked.
“Oh, sorry, my name is David. Nice meeting you. I’ll call you later.” Damn straight I will. / Yeah, you better, sly boy.
He then walked out to his white sedan with an almost triumphant swagger. A family, tourists to be sure, looked at him as he passed their SUV. He was bulging out of his indigo-blue gym shorts.