The beginning of a future book by Suzanne Crain Miller
“…It’s probably polite to pretend you don’t see people coming out of pawnshops, anyhow.”
― Dashiell Hammett, The Thin Man
The day you decide not to work alone, starts your clock. It’s only a matter of time til you’re caught or killed. That’s what Chet Wexler always said. Like most good advice I’ve ever been given, I only realize it’s good once it’s too late. Minute she comes up to my car, I hear ticking. My clock’s starting.
She came out of nowhere, well everybody comes from somewhere. I should say, she came out of nowhere I’ve ever been. One of those model types. Nothing lacking. As she gets closer to my car, with bright orange Big Ed’s Pawn letters flashing on the sign behind her, and the maroon streaks in her long brown hair, she seems unreal; some airbrushed version of a woman. A mirage I’m seeing caused by sitting out here in this damn parking lot way too long in the heat.
Back in the day, her looks would’ve given her billboards or commercials. In our modern times, where nothing’s the currency it once was, not even beauty, she’s probably lucky to be one of those YouTubers or have an Only Fans account. Might even make some extra by mailing thongs to subscribers who give her gifts. Her long legs say hello first. Glistening like she’s fresh from laying out by a pool, they peek out from under what has to be a tube top she’s turned into a miniskirt. Those legs are the only reason I roll down my window. I mean, good Lord, at the end of the day, no matter what the risk or inconvenience, a man is only just a man.
“Thought I had another week or so til I’d see you again, hon.” she says with the confidence of a much older gal. Hon, hadn’t heard that in forever. Didn’t think anyone her age thought that was proper anymore. Last week at the flea market, I used the word darlin’, damn near had some old hag who’d overheard me and didn’t even seem to know the girl I happened to call that, follow me out to the parking lot screeching at how far they’ve all come to be demeaned in such a way. Now, here’s a girl who can’t be more than twenty, and that’s shooting it high, using hon. I never claim to know what’s right anymore.
“We’ve never met.” I hear myself say, all the while mesmerized by her grass green eyes she’s lowered her sunglasses enough to be sure I get a look at.
“Well, no, but we should.” she informs me.
“Why’s that?”
Turning her body, placing a hand on my car roof, leaning down so close I can smell her perfume, she puts her other hand on her hip, tilts her head to the side.
“We gonna do this?”
“What? What’re we doin’?” I ask.
“Play like I don’t know what you’re up to.”
I raise my eyebrows; a lazy man’s shrug.
“I’ve seen you. Settin’ out here waitin’ til you see somebody come out looks like they just got their fuckin’ year made. They skip off to their car, and not long after they pull out, head down the road, well then there goes your car not long after.”
My cheeks don’t go red No my body turns on me by sweating. No different than if she just turned a hose on me, my t-shirt sticks to my skin. My pits pool ready to give me away. Shit!
“Thought I might be wrong first time I saw you. Thought surely not. I mean who’d shit where they eat way out here in Gatlin? But whatin a couple days after that last time, Edna came in the store wantin’ to know if we’d noticed anybody suspicious. Said same night she finally broke down and pawned her Mama’s jewelry here, she’d had to call the cops to come out. Said she’d woke up in the middle of the night and was on her way to the bathroom when she saw a man siftin’ through her kitchen drawers, that he threw one of her soup mugs from Dollywood right at her ‘fore he hauled ass right out her back door. Poor Edna. Had a knot on her forehead the size of a bouncy ball. Did you know she’s 78? I mean Jesus!”
She shook her head. Her theatrics are stellar, have to give her that. Really seems all tore up over Edna.
“I don’t eat here.” I said.
“What’s that?”
“You said who’d shit where they eat. I don’t eat here.” I clarify.
This makes her laugh.
“You don’t say.”
Before I can get my wits about me and lock my car doors, she drops her arms then waltzes around behind my trunk. My passenger door flies open. Her perfume is a whole lot more potent with her sitting right up next to me. She eyeballs everything in the car. Puts her hands on a stack of unpaid bills on the dash.
“Don’t look like rippin’ off old ladies and fightin’ with soup mugs is payin off too well.” she jeers, thumbing through them.
I reach up over, snatching the bills then stuffing them in floor of the backseat. Before I can decide if I like being up close and personal with those stems of hers or if I want to tell her to go jump, she scoots up in the seat, points at something.
“That’s how I saw you. Theres cameras hid in the exit signs. They show every inch of this parking lot.” she explains.
Sighing, my shoulders slump and my head hangs. Exit sign cam. Damn! I thought I’d run across the only pawn shop that hadn’t spring for security yet. I lift my hat, run a hand through my hair then set the hat on my head down lower to shade my eyes a bit. Embarrassed as hell.
“Don’t worry. I hadn’t told anybody. I’m the main one who watches the tapes or bothers settin’ it. Ed got ‘em installed but he don’t know much about technology. According to him, he hopes to die that a way.”
We watch as a couple walk through the front doors of the shop. The woman has a Gucci bag and heels to match. Her man has a pullover with a dress shirt under it. Look like city rats cept for their truck. Country people with city preferences. They’ll get a big ol’ diamond from Ed and help keep up the whole look they have going. Fooling people into thinking you have money is nearly as good as having it. Nearly.
“Bet Ed likes to see one’s like them comin”.” I say.
“Oh, man does he ever! Woman like that wants a ring so big her hand goes limp from the weight of it.” she adds.
Once the couple’s inside, she situates herself so she’s got her legs tucked under her, and her chest is jutting out. Her clothes barely serve any purpose.
“I’m Sissy.”
She extends her hand. One of her purple nails is broken off. No doubt this irks a girl like her.
“Les.” I tell her shaking her hand with one of mine.
Our hands back on our prospective sides of the vehicle, she digs in her purse and pulls out a vape pen. There’s no asking if that’s okay to use in here.
No reason she’d up and start asking for permission in this world now. She takes a few breaths of it. Smells sweet, mixing with her perfume. Damn! My car’s gonna smell like one of those cheap tropical air freshners they sneak in at the car wash.
“How do you decide, Les?” she wants to know.
I stare at her.
“On one of them.”
She motions to a man walking out of the store.
“This guy. Dude right there. Is he a good one?” she says.
It’s clear she needs something to get out of my car. I decide I will throw her the piece of a bone. Not a full one, just a piece. Most women’ll settle for that. At least for a little while. Hopefully long enough for you to make a getaway.
“Nah.” I say.
Sitting up, looking closer at the guy, she narrows her eyes. I get an eye full of what God gave her since she’s one for ensuring she has an ounce of ladylike posture in any given circumstance. Has the demeanor of a gal that’s never had anything ladylike about her to begin with.
“How come?” she goes on.
“Pockets.”
“What’s wrong with his pockets?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them. They’re flat is all.” I tell her.
We watch the man walk across the parking lot, a scowl across his face that’ll stay there til tomorrow.
“Even his back pockets. Flat.” I point out. “And does he walk like someone who’s having a lick of luck today?”
Before I know it, she’s nearly in my lap to get a better look. Now, I’m really eyeing the Exit camera, thinking Big Ed’s finally gotten wise and gone and sent her out here. Probably laughing his ass off inside watching us now.
“How’s a lucky guy walk anyway?” she jokes.
“Like he’s bouncin’ not walkin’. Like the sky itself is the only thing slappin’ him back down to earth.” I say.
The man starts his car, revs it twice.
“He’s angry alright.” she murmurs.
He pulls his car out real jerky and zips down the road real fast and like he hopes to die without having to see this place one more time.
“What else?”
She’s overeager now. I’ve let loose a monster. I shake my head, grin.
“Don’t you got anywhere else to be?” I say. “Get back to work or somethin’.”
I nod at the shop.
“Oh, I don’t work there. I don’t have to work at all if I don’t want to.” she gloats.
“How nice for you.”
“It is but I get bored. Day after day of the same ol’ same ol’.”
Cars pass on the highway behind us. An airplane overhead clouding her rambling and I don’t feel like turning up my hearing aid. Somehow, I don’t think I’m missing much.
“My brother used to say borin’ days are when you do your best thinkin’. When the best ideas find you.” she’s saying as I tune back in.
“Don’t know about that. Had plenty of dead end days not cough up a damn thing for me.” I argue.
“Not me. Nope. It was one a my borin’ days I happened to look at the camera and see you again. It reminded me I’d seen you before, that day Edna was here. I got a real knack for dates and shit.”
“Congratulations.” I mutter.
“And to you too. See this is one of your borin’ days I’d guess. You were still settin’ here, watchin’, waitin’, when I came, right out of that store and into your life.”
My wrinkled forehead gives away that I don’t really give a rat’s ass. Sure as I sit here, my life won’t be a bit better with her ass having warmed my seat.
“Came right out made sure we met so you don’t keep havin’ borin’ days and I don’t either.” she explains.
“Look here, you’re pretty and all, but-“
She punches my shoulder and it hurts like hell but I don’t dare let her know it. I put my hands up in surrender.
“I didn’t come out here to offer you anything between these legs old man. God knows!”
I lower my hands back into my lap thinking how God may the only one around here who doesn’t know about what’s between her legs. The pretty ones never do have much use for keeping them shut after they learn the power of keeping them open.
“I came out here cause I figured you might be tired of tryin’ to live on what little you get from these dirt poor people we got comin’ in here. Hell, since Covid, most of ems hawked about everything they got worth hawkin’ and what’re you gonna do when this well goes dry?” she puts it to me.
“There’s other wells.”
Slumping back over on her side, she crosses her arms, takes another hit off her cape and blows her bangs out of her eyes.
“All of em’ll go dry. Give it time.” she huffs. “I can see I was wrong. You’re one of those.”
In a quick motion, she opens her door, hopping out as fast as she hopped in. Those legs look even shinier somehow with the way the sun’s hitting them as she walks around the front of my car.
“One of what?” I call out my window.
She turns, real slow, like she’s practiced this move in her mirror to drive men wild. Eyes me with the one eye that’s visible to me from this angle.
“One of those who don’t know a good thing when they see it.” she sasses.
I laugh. This gets her goat big time. She stomps back over to my window. Leans down.
“You go on and laugh. That’s all you’ll be doin’. Settin’ here laughin’ while I’m off gettin’ the big score and kissin’ this town good bye.” she snarls.
Stepping back far enough for me to be able to breathe my own air on my own. She gives me the evil eye.
“Score?” I dare to utter.
“Mmm hmm.”
And then she’s gone, storms across the parking lot, slowing down as she gets closer to the shop, knowing I’m watching her go. Soon as she reaches Big Ed’s doors, a fella leans out, holding them for her.
“Ed! Your wife’s back!” I hear the door holder yell in after her.
Well, I’ll be damned. I start my car and pull out slow enough not to draw more attention than I’ve already drawn. I know I should be like Mr. Flat Pockets , leave this place in a hurry and never look back, but I know I won’t. That kind of self preservation’s just not in me. The whole way on the drive to my hotel, I hear that tick, tick, tick, getting louder by the minute.
Tattooed Daughter 