The room was teeming with people, but they mingled in small, private groups. Polite laughter and hushed tones seemed the norm. This whole environment felt stifling to me. Give me a hearty laugh and unbridled exuberance any day. I never apologized for who I was or how I’d been raised, but seeing the way these people lived made me realize just how far down the social ladder my family really was. I thought about Shelby and how she’d stand out in a crowd like this, way more than I did now. They’d snicker behind her back, and then she’d get wild and unruly. I shuddered at the unsavoryimage.
Drifting into an adjoining room, I was aghast to find tables manned by eager venders selling a wide variety of products and clothing. As if smelling fresh meat, every head in the place swiveled in my direction, and those salivating salespeople eyed me greedily. I froze, feeling like a trapped animal. This was going to be worse than a flea market on a cruiseshipport.
I wanted out of there, but the minute I stepped in, I was committed. If I exited moments after entering, it would be rude, suggesting that I found their products uninteresting. And, of course, we’ve already established that I hate hurting people’s feelings, so now I had no choice but to make that obligatory trip around the room and pretend to be interested.Dammit. Sometimes I hated being a nice guy. I scanned the merchandise, not making eye contact with the salespeople in order to avoid the awkward conversation about my lack of funds to purchase their top-name, over-priced items. I hadn’t even made it a quarter of the way around the room when someonestoppedme.
“Would you like a shirt?” a young woman asked brightly, as she held up the kickass t-shirt I’d been covertly eyeing. Her hair was pulled back in a tight ponytail and it bobbed happily as she spoke. That’s how they got you. Beam a smiling salesgirl down and make you feel like a jerk forrefusingher.
“Oh. I don’t have a ton of cash on me right now,” I replied, trying to make my voice sound important by adopting a deep baritone, in the fashion of James EarlJones.
“Oh, no. We aren’t selling it.It’sfree.”
My feet dug in as I tried to make sense of herwords. “Free?”
“Everything in here is,” she said, gesturing around at the other tables. “This is thegiftroom.”
Although I hadn’t meant to, I accidentally gasped in shock. “Forwho?”
She looked surprised by my surprise and glanced at my wristband. “Well,foryou.”
“So, wait. You’re saying that everything in hereisfree?”
“Yes,sir.”
I shook my disbelieving head. There were hordes of people wandering around outside these doors. How were they not all stampeding in here, body-slamming each other to get a piece of the free pie? “Well, I don’t… why isn’t everyone inhere,then?”
“I have no idea. There’s some amazing stuff. We get people trickling in all day, but some of the bigger name celebrities don’t take freebies…they don’t want to feel obligated to promote the products,youknow?”
No. I didn’t know. This realm was completely foreign to me. These people lived in a world of microscopic food and free stuff that no one wanted? Good god! My family was the type who got into fistfights over a discounted television at Walmart on Black Friday. If someone offered us something for free, we were raised to say “Yes, please!” and then take off running before they could change theirminds.
Handing me the t-shirt, the woman eyed me with interest. “I’m surprised you don’t see the gifting areas moreoften.”
“Huh?”
“As a musicianandall.”
Oh, shit! Of course! That’s why I hadn’t been forcibly removed yet. They thought I actually wassomeone!
“Oh, yeah, well, you know,” I said stringing a bunch of words together with no apparent purpose other than confuse both herandme.
“What’s the name ofyourband?”
I was too frazzled to think, so I just stood there for an extended period of time wracking my brain for the name of my fictional band. I had nothing. Completely blank! About to hand the free t-shirt back and walk out with my head hung in shame, the salesgirl surprised meagain.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m not supposed to ask. Forget I saidanything.”
“Excuse me, sir.” A man hurried over. “Would you like to try ourheadphones?”
Yes. Yes, I most definitely would. And like a kid in a candy shop, I allowed myself to be led around from table to table, wide-eyed and drooling, as one vendor after another tempted me with bigger and better prizes. It was like winningThePrice Is RightShowcase Showdown, but without anycompetition.
And that’s how I now found myself in the storage unit, pretending to be someone I wasn’t in order to keep what wasn’t mine. I’d spent my day wallowing in filth, yet it was only now, surrounded by my new treasures, that I actually felt dirty. Living in this world was definitely more stress than it was worth. From this point forth, I was going to use my all-mighty wristband towards the pursuit of good, not evil. And in that spirit, I was dedicating the remainder of my weekend to what was really important:findingEmma.
9
Emma, Present Day: LivingDangerously
Ishould never have pickedhim up. What had I been thinking? How could I have recklessly set aside my own safety for the sake of a stranger? I was lucky he wasn’t a rapist or a killer or any number of other things a single guy with ripped, grease-soiled jeans and crazy curly hair couldhavebeen.
Glancing over at my unsuspecting mother, I felt the rise of shame-filled regret. She would be horrified by my behavior. I knew better… we all did. There was nothing like paying the price to be taught a valuable life lesson. So why did I do it? What force of nature turned off my common sense and allowed me to pick up a perfect stranger? One thing I knew for sure – I could never let Mom know what a complete and utter idiot I’d been. She’d never trust my judgment again. Hell, I no longer trustedmyself.
