I looked up from my laptop as pressure on the plate beneath the “Welcome” mat set the doorbell off. “FemBots vs. Charlie’s Angels” would have to wait, the owner was cool about my writing but not when there were customers. The after-work rush wouldn’t start until around six, the clock on the wall showed 3:30, but this time I didn’t mind being interrupted.
The suburban community I worked and lived in was active, I had seen this girl before, in the store, or browsing the rest of the strip mall with her friends, though I might’ve been wrong.
It’s getting harder and harder to tell them apart. I thought as I watched her dump a movie into the return slide and begin browsing through the drama racks. She was the model of the new, all-purpose American girl; a homogenous blend of Brittany Spears, Christina Agulera, Jennifer Lopez, Lil Kim, Wonder-Woman, Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Sabrina, Teenage Witch. All saw themselves as girls who had paid their dues and could wear burlap sacks to the big dance if they wanted to, but still be queens of all they surveyed.
Parent supplied credit cards kept them in the newest fashions and the latest gizmos. This girl came equipped with pager and cell-phone, and chewed on her lip while she read the back of the box for a Meg Ryan movie.
Meg Ryan, what is it that they love so much about Meg Ryan? I thought and added the question to my mental list of life’s mysteries. She started humming something that sounded like Pop, which was amplified by the empty store. She looked up to see if I was watching, then smiled when she saw that I was.
“Sorry. Just got a little song in my head, you know…” She shrugged, as if I would understand. She closed her eyes and started wiggling to the beat she heard. “You drive me crazy…”
I smirked.
“Don’t let it stop you,” I said and turned back to my script. “Everybody’s got to have theme music for their life, right?”
“Right, exactly,” She said a nodded her head. She had large eyes and a baby-doll’s face that had been dusted with glitter. “That’s so cool you would know that.”
“If you like Meg Ryan, try something by Katherine Hepburn. I think my favorite was Roman Holiday.” I said. She looked at the box in her hand and giggled. Youth had been kind to her; she knew how to play “look at me” very well. She seemed friendly, forward, and certainly not shy.
“Good eyes.” She said and placed the box back on the rack.
“The better to see you with,” I said and concentrated on my laptop screen. “But just in case I miss something, we still got an eye on you.”
I pointed out the black CCTV camera domes hanging from the ceiling, only two of the seven had cameras in them, but she didn’t need to know that.
“I love Katherine Hepburn,” She said and put a hand over her heart. “What did you like most about it?”
This one I was ready for. “I think I liked the moral of it, that working-class girls with big hearts can and will meet the affluent man of their dreams. Consider when it was made, there weren’t many opportunities for women then.”
“Yeah, I like that about Roman Holiday, too.” She said as she walked up to the counter. I could detect of CK when she was close enough for me to smell it; she put her hand out. “I’m Autumn, pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Clark,” I said. From the floor up, she was; pink toenails, silver toe ring and ankle-bracelet, three-inch open-toed platforms. “I’ve seen you around, I guess I never got your name until now.”
“So what makes you want to work in a video store?” She said as if saying the man she would sleep with does something else.
“You know what’s really great about working in a video store?”
“What?” She said.
“You can tell a lot by what people watch,” I said and Autumn’s face twisted with predictable confusion. “It’s a window into their souls through their emotions. What they pick out gives you some idea what they’re thinking.”
“I don’t understand.” She said. I got a shot of young cleavage as she bent over to slide a package of red licorice off of the pegboard display beneath the register.
“The person that comes in and buys an armful of comedies probably seem themselves as very energetic people, it takes a lot of energy to laugh.”
“You’re so weird.” She said and suddenly seemed to lose interest. Without another word she went back to her browsing.
I shook my head and checked her out from behind. Gone were the school-girl uniforms her youth, instead she wore a tight pair of neon green Bubblegum-label pants, a belly-button ring, and a midriff shirt to make sure everyone could see it. Her bust size was maybe a 34C. There was a tanning salon four doors down toward the Kwik & Go. Many girls her age were members of the heath club that was on the very end. Before I had to give up smoking, I’d see them laughing and giggling together as they carried their gymbags across the parking lot, or maybe not. As it served the purpose of the herd, all-purpose American girls looked greatly alike, maybe it just was her and her friends.
I lost interest as she did and lowered my eyes to my script. Revealing who Charlie is while bringing him in to save the day against the FemBots was proving to be quite a knot to unravel. I had to smile though, thank the powers that I didn’t have to do this by hand.
“Hey Clark. How’s the script coming?” Greg, the boss said as he pushed through the door, scanned the floor for customers and came around the counter to the back. He punched the “No Sale” key and the register drawer popped open. He took all of the $50’s, $20’s, and half of the $10’s. The puke, now if somebody laid down a $100, I’d be short of change for the rest of the night.
“It’s coming along, Greg, thanks.” I said and slid my laptop down the counter away from him. His wife Julie came in behind him. She was a post-Goth punk rock girl who had let her hair grow out, and as a specimen of womanhood had come well-equipped, there was a tattoo between the firm, upright melons dangling from her chest. If I had to guess, I would’ve said they were 36C. She pushed open the door with one hand and carried their only child, Seth, with the other.
Lucky kid. I thought and felt a minor gush of Saliva as I got a flash of myself suckling on one of her dark, Silver-dollar-sized nipples.
“Hi Clark, how’s the book coming?” Julie said and smiled when she caught me eyeing her bust.
“It’s a script, but it’s developing, thanks,” I said and busied myself making faces at Seth, the little cherub giggled. I have to admit he was a cute kid. Julie seemed to revel in the attention I paid him. “Maybe another month until I can get it finished.”
“Then what, you’re moving to Hollywood?”
“Or New York. I think it would do well in the theater.” I said and sighed as Greg folded up the bills and wrapped a rubber band around them, before stuffing the wad into his pocket.
“Grab me a Coke, baby, I think we’re ready for the track.” Greg said and Julie sighed. It seemed like she was his mate but not his partner. She rarely spoke, he never asked her for her opinions in my presence, and used only his name for her, never her name. She was his silent, compliant, baby-machine.
“Umm-hmm.” Julie said and took a Diet Coke out of the stand-up cooler against the wall with the beverage he wanted.
Oblivious to the looks she was giving me, Greg opened the soda she offered him and let off toward the door.
“You’re smart,” Julie said. “I know you’re gonna be somebody.”
“Come on, honey, you’re making us late,” Greg said. “If I miss the first race, it’s gonna be your ass.”
Julie watched me until she was at the door. After one child, her ass still looked great. Maybe she knew I was watching back and gave her hips an extra wiggle as she went out, following her husband to their, that is his, cherry-red Firebird.
“You’re writing a movie script?”
I wrenched my head around as a voice in my ear surprised me. Autumn was leaning against the counter with a cassette in her hand. She had apparently made a selection. I sighed.
“It’s more of a play, actually,” I said and closed the lid of my laptop as she tried to see the screen. “Though it could be a movie someday.”
“I want to see, maybe I’ll be able to say that I knew you.” Autumn said and pried gently at the hand holding the laptop. She smiled and bit her bottom lip, looking straight at me.
She had an outstanding balance but that didn’t surprise me, it seemed like everybody in town. A swipe of her father’s Visa took care of all her fees and back-charges.
“Come on, I want to see.” She said, stomping her foot and crying plaintively as she replaced the card in her purse. Despite her adult clothes and manners, some part of her would always be little girl.
“Ok, fine,” I said and opened the laptop, spinning it on the counter so that she could see the screen. “Feast your eyes.”
“The screen’s blank,” Autumn said and turned it back to face me. “What’s wrong, can’t you think of anything to write about?”
“A momentary lapse.” I said, though truthfully it had become something more than just momentary. I was stuck, life was nothing but an unending series of 8 hour shifts that kept the bills, nothing else. I wasn’t eating right; sleep had become an escape but never a rest. Without a muse, the poor white trash I was became more pronounced, I was producing nothing, and with no production I couldn’t even claim to be an artist… artists produce art... regularly.
The smell of CK was beginning to overwhelm the loner’s funk that I’d been so carefully cultivating, through a careful regimen of not bathing and covering it with scented oil, also useful for covering the smell of booze on the days I came to work drunk.
Just when I managed to work up a good funk. I thought and sighed. Autumn grinned when I focused on her.