It was impossible not to notice she had a penchant for black. And lacy.
She didn’t bother with shoes until I commented, “You going to wear those Chuck Taylors with that dress?”
The cart came to a sudden stop, and Sylvie looked down at the faded, dusty gray sneakers she wore. “Goodpoint. Thanks.” She swung the cart to the left, her lips pressed together, the lines bracketing her mouth pale, showing the strain she refused to accept.
This woman was tough. I still wasn’t sure I liked having a partner—definitely not a civilian—but I had to admire her grit.
She managed to find a pair of black low-heeled shoes that would go well enough with the semiprofessional outfits she’d grabbed, and we were done with shoes. We slowed at the electronics section, then kept going.
“What do you need?” I asked, looking behind us at the aisles of tablets, phones, and other devices.
Sylvie glanced back. “A laptop, but I’m not going to buy one here. I’ll figure that out later.”
“You good for cables and chargers?” I asked.
“Those I have,” she said. “I always keep a set in my backpack. Too many battery emergencies.”
“Good thinking,” I said, again admiring her forethought.
From there, we swung around to toiletries, and I prepared myself for a wait. But again, she surprised me. It was fascinating watching her stand in front of the makeup section. She scanned up and down, left to right, stopped, grabbed something, scanned again, grabbed something else. She knew exactly what she wanted and where to find it. Moving on, she tossed everything she needed in the cart, from a toothbrush and toothpaste to lotion, shampoo, deodorant, and stuff for her hair.
Less than twenty minutes after we’d entered the store, we had a cart half full, right down to the functional duffel-slash-backpack she’d grabbed in the luggage department.
“This will get me through for now,” she said, pushing the cart in the shortest line.
“There’s a washer-dryer in the safe house,” I added helpfully.
“Sweet. Then this will definitely hold me for a while.”
We fell into silence as we waited, Sylvie leaning on the cart, her shoulders rounding forward as the distraction of shopping faded, and she could no longer hold back her fatigue. I had the weird impulse to rub her back, to run my palm up that rounded spine, offering comfort or support. Or whatever. I didn’t know. I shoved my half-lifted hand in my pocket. Sylvie wasn’t a friend. She wasn’t a lover. Not even a client, really.
I cleared my throat and scanned the registers. Nothing was out of place. Just people shopping, ringing up their purchases, everything exactly as it should have been.
We got to the front, and the clerk rang up the basket as efficiently as Sylvie had thrown things in the cart. Sylvie tapped the screen in front of her with her phone, and a second later the machine let out a low, aggravating beep.
“Sometimes the tap doesn’t work,” the clerk said with an apologetic shrug. “Do you have the card? The chip usually goes through.”
“Yeah, I’ve got the card,” Sylvie said. She slung her backpack off one shoulder and dug around in the front pocket until she pulled out her wallet and shoved in the card.
A circle spun on the screen, and a redXpopped up, accompanied by the same low buzz.
“That one’s not working either,” the clerk said. She wrinkled her nose and smiled hopefully. “Do you have another?”
“I do,” Sylvie said, staring down at the card, “but that’s weird because I just paid… Never mind. Here, let’s try this one.”
She pulled out what I saw was a debit card from herbank, popped the chip side in, and three seconds later, we got the same low buzz and redX.
Slowly, she pulled the card out. “I don’t… Everything’s up to date. I did my banking the other day. The accounts aren’t empty.”
“Try another,” I said. “Do you have one?”
“Yeah,” she said slowly. “My backup credit card…” And she tried that.
Another low buzz and redX.
“Eli?” Sylvie asked, a questioning tone in her voice, her golden-hazel eyes sharp with worry.
“Yeah,” I said, beginning to see the full picture. People all around us weren’t having any trouble ringing up their purchases. This wasn’t a problem with the network or the store. This was a problem with Sylvie’s cards. And given the debit card, her bank.
