No Sale

The low hum of the fluorescent tubes are nearly drowned out as Luci walked under the overhead speaker playing an instrumental version of “The Grand Illusion” by Styx. She was halfway down the cereal aisle before noticing the man holding two boxes of cereal, scanning each box back and forth, mumbling to himself about calories. “Excuse me,” she said politely, maneuvering the grey shopping cart across the white-tiled floor, one wheel wobbling as she did. The man shuffled closer to the shelf and placed one of the boxes back on it.

Turning the corner, she caught a breeze from the dairy cooler as another patron reached for a half gallon of 2%. She looked at the folded list she had written in blue cursive ink on crumpled notebook paper laying on the baby seat in front of her. Milk was on the list, but it could wait. Thinking to herself, no use in getting cold items yet, I just got here as she headed towards the produce area.

“Why in the hell do I keep buying bananas if you never eat them?” The worn, middle-aged woman looked sternly at the boy in the woolen jacket covering a brightly patterned aloha shirt holding a handful of yellow fruits extended over their cart.

“Because I like ‘em.” The bananas crashed into the bottom of the cart.

The mother grumbled.

The son chuckled.

Luci raised an eyebrow and remembered when she used to take Steven to the supermarket. She also remembered why she didn’t anymore.

Locating the melons, she reached for the pile of cantaloupe. Grabbing one, she raised it to her ear, knocked a few times, shook her head and placed it back into the pile. She repeated this process a few times until the right one sung to her. Her father showed her the proper melon knocking technique. He would bring her home one from his weekly trips to the supermarket and she would be allowed a slice on Sundays. Cantaloupe was her favorite fruit and has been well past his death.

She continued her patterned walk throughout the aisles, weaving in and out, periodically stopping to look at items and occasionally putting a few items in her cart. She’d look at her list, gander at the directional signs hanging at the end of each passageway and dip into the row in search of her treats.

It wasn’t until she looked out the windows at the front of the store noticing the sun had already gone down that she realized she’d been browsing for nearly two hours. She examined the food that occupied her nearly full cart, comparing it to her list and then to her watch, 8:42, it said.  She figured it had been an adequate amount to check out for the evening.

***

It takes a few minutes, but the police arrive at the scene. Most of the witnesses are shaken and breathless, including Luci Jane. However, the police begin the a-typical procedure and start taking statements regardless of their emotional distraught.

“I wandered to the front of the store where there was only one checkout line open. Being as it is a Thursday, that’s generally the case. The checkout attendant was some gangly teenager. His nametag said ‘Kevin’, I think.” She stretches her neck to pan around the supermarket and points to a sulking kid barely out of high school. He was talking nervously to another officer. “Him, over there.”

Luci Jane, or “LJ” as she liked to be called by those who know her, is a modern-day woman in her mid-thirties. While life didn’t quite turn out like she planned, she has still had a pretty good run at things. She has a regular desk job where she works during the week while her 13-year-old son, Steven, goes to school. Her husband, Mark, has had a fair amount of trouble finding work since he was laid off and spends most nights hanging out with his friends or working odd jobs to help with the family. They reside in a two-bedroom apartment in a lived-in complex on the other side of town. Luci enjoys the nights she can go out grocery shopping because she can be by herself and enjoy time alone. She often treats herself to the Thriftway across town, the people there are nice and it makes her, even for a few moments, feel like she is living outside of her social class.

“There were two people in line in front of me, but I didn’t mind. I got distracted by the tabloid rack that sits next to the line. Apparently, the President was going to be assassinated by aliens again and the world’s biggest baby had escaped. Who thinks of this crazy shit?”

“I dunno, ma’am.” Officer McCarthy is a rotund man who is at the end of his shift. His eyes sink into his head and his mouth barely opens as he speaks. Wheezing accompanies every one of his breaths. While he wants to help the situation, they don’t get many calls like this around this part of town, and he is emphatically unimpressed. He’s just going through the motions and, honestly, just watching the clock until he goes home. He taps his pen on his empty notebook as he counts the seconds.

“The lady in front of me was searching through her pile of coupons. Kevin sighed when I placed a divider on the conveyor and began placing my items on there. I had just placed some Rice a Roni when the beep came from my purse. I rummaged around to find Mark had rung my pager. He usually did this when he got home to, well, let me know when he got home.”

“Of course.” McCarthy rocks back and forth. His legs can’t sustain his wide frame in a rigid stance for very long.

Mark kept odd hours. Most of the time, it didn’t bother Luci, but she still wanted to make sure he was safe. She also felt at ease knowing that Steven wasn’t sitting at home, left to his own devises all night, even if she was only gone a few hours.

“As I placed my purse back at my hip, I noticed both the old lady and Kevin staring at me. ‘It was my husband. He made it home,’ I said nervously. I couldn’t go back to unloading my basket quickly enough.”

She doesn’t feel it is important enough to tell McCarthy about Mark. Besides, he doesn’t seem to care. Which is better for the both of them, if she really got into it, she’d be telling that story all night.

“As I approached Kevin, he said ‘Good Evening’ with little to no emotion. I reciprocated. The bag boy at the end of the line pulled out a few plastic bags and started lining them with the items Kevin pushed through the scanner. Kevin laughed as the Weekly Weird slid past his station. ‘It’s for my son,’ was the first lie I could think of.”

McCarthy yawns. His breath smells of stale coffee and menthols. It is late, but this is a ‘I’d rather be doing something else’ sort of yawn. Crack police work.

“Kevin said, ‘sure,’ as he clicked the keyboard in front of him. $86.16, I think was the total. I grabbed for my purse and began digging through the various items in search of my checkbook. It was at that moment I heard the first gunshot.”

Officer McCarthy’s eyebrow raises. He clicks his pen and brings it to the paper. “Finally,” he mutters in an exaggerated tenor.

“I dropped my purse and directed all of my attention to the entryway where three men were standing, dressed in all black, holding guns and wearing Richard Nixon masks. One shot his gun into the air.”

“You didn’t hear them come in?”

“No. As I said, I was having a fruitful conversation with Kevin.”

“What kinds of guns did they have?”

“Handguns? Hell if I know. One was black, the other ones were silver. It made a loud noise when he pulled the trigger. Does that help, Officer McClane?” Luci realizes the interview was more about his excitement and less about the incident she just lived through.

“It’s McCarthy.”

“Mmhm.”

McCarthy etches a few words into his pad and continues his questioning. “And…what happened next?”

“’I want all of the co-workers in front of me, NOW,’ one man said as he pulled the trigger of his handgun putting another hole in the ceiling.” She pointed to the black spots in the ceiling. “The plaster hadn’t even hit the floor before Kevin had dove onto the linoleum, joining other co-workers and customers. He pointed his gun at Kevin and asked if there were any other co-workers hiding about. He nodded his his head and pointed to one behind the customer service desk and another who should be stocking somewhere in the store. One of the other men went in search of the stock boy.”

The officer writes frantically as he mumbles to himself, “went…in search…stock boy.”

“I huddled down behind the checkout, scared. I tried to fight back the tears and used both hands to cover my mouth, both of which I was failing at. One man peeked into the aisle to see me curled there and pulled me into the entryway. He dumped over my purse in the shuffle and stole a few dollars that fell out in the struggle.”

Luci begins to tear up a little as she remembers the incident. The trauma catches up to her sooner than she thought it would. She sniffles to contain her emotions. McCarthy is oblivious. “So, uh, where was the manager?” McCarthy says as he notices a man in a tie with his hands on his hips pacing sternly around the store.

“I don’t know, exactly. Out having a smoke? Eating a sandwich? He wasn’t where he should’ve been, that’s for damn sure.” Luci also looked at the man who acted as though he had the situation under control when the cops first arrived.

“Alright, go on.”

“The main man…grabbed me…and…and…pulled me to my feet. I yelled. ‘Shut the fuck up,’ he screamed into my ear. ‘You’re going to help me.’ He placed his hand on my back and shoved me towards Kevin’s register and told me to open it.

‘I don’t know how,’ I said frantically looking at the machine in front of me. Kevin mumbled something from the floor.

‘The fuck you say?’ The man said as he kicked Kevin who was curled at his feet.

‘No sale, press No sale.’ He said.”

McCarthy looks at the register closest to them and examines it for a few seconds. “Yup, No Sale, right there. That is one of the buttons.” Luci rolls her eyes.

“The register popped open as I did, and the man immediately reached for the money and shoved it into one of the plastic bags from the end of the line. He grabbed me and continued to do the same across every cash lane until the bag had been filled.

‘Jackpot!’ He said as he raised the full bag of cash over his head.”

The officer plays with a bag, “how much money you think could fit in there?”

‘We’re out, boys!’ And just like that, the Nixion triplets were gone with a ding of the bell above the door. However, before they left, the man leaned in and grabbed a Twinkie on his way out. And that’s about all I can recall, officer.”

Luci stands, shaken, as she concludes her retelling of the robbery to Officer McCarthy who is still frantically writing notes in the pad he has in his hands.

“Did they use any names? Did they have any defining marks or tattoos?”

“Naw. They wore long sleeves, pants and gloves. They had nothing exposed and the masks made their voices muffled. I don’t know what to tell you. I don’t know, they were all about the same height, six or so feet, dressed in all black,”

Luci tries hard to recall anything specific, but there isn’t really anything to go off. “They wore Nixon masks and had guns.”  Luci wants to help but can’t. She is terrified and just wants to go home to Mark and Steven.

“Shit, alright.” McCarthy flips his notebook closed and clicks his pen.

***

It is just past eleven as she pulls into spot number 27 at the Golden Palms Apartment Complex. She exhales as she turns off the engine and slumps forward in the driver’s seat until the steering wheel stops her at the forehead. She still has nerves she has yet to shake off and is having trouble completely compiling herself. She exits the car and walks around to the rear of the car and opens the trunk, grabs the five bags of groceries and closes the door with her elbow. She waddles up the flight of stairs until she gets to door #32B. She places all the bags on the floor as she jumbles her keys in the lock and turns the doorknob.

The apartment is dark as she walks in. Steven is sprawled out on the couch watching a basketball game. He stands up to help her with the groceries, placing the Hostess wrapper he was playing with on the coffee table as he does.

“You’ll never guess what happened to me tonight,” Luci says in between breaths as she hands a few of the bags to Steven.

Luci continues her story. “…but hey, at least I got these groceries for free,” Steven raised his eyebrow at this comment, “The store was robbed. I had to go through some shit and talk to the cops, but yeah, since the food was already bagged and in the cart, they just let me walk out.”

“The store was robbed?” Steven asked in a panic. “Are you okay?”

“Yeeaah…” Luci’s speech drags as she scans the rest of the apartment. “Where is your father? He paged me earlier and let me know he was home.”

“Um, yeah, he was for a moment, but he went back out with the guys.”

“Typical.” Luci sighs. “I’m going to go lay down.” She leaves Steven to put away the groceries as she saunters to her bedroom. Mark will find his way home eventually. She falls face first, exhausted, into the quilt resting on her mattress.

The pounding at the door immediately wakes Luci from her sleep. The sun shines through her half-drawn curtains and she takes a moment to realize where she is. She is still wearing the clothes from the night prior, disheveled, confused and in an empty bed.

The pounding is louder this time.

She stands up and collects herself. “Jesus Christ,” she silently shrieks to herself.

She stumbles into the living room where Steven is already up and eating a piece of cantaloupe. “Who is it?” Luci asks. Steven shrugs, taking another bite of the juicy fruit.

Opening the door, she sees a tall, uniformed man with hair parted to the side. On his large nose rests thick rimmed glasses that barely conceal his bushy eyebrows. He is holding a bag in one hand that nestles at his waist. “LJ?” He asks sternly.

Luci is taken aback. No one calls her that name. “Uh, yes, I guess. Luci, though, please.” The morning sun blinds her as the heat radiates her face.

“Is your husband Mark O’Neil?”

“Yeah, why?” She is confused as to how this stranger knows who Mark or her, let alone her alias, is. “Has he done something wrong? Wait, who are you?”

“I think he has, ma’am, but I don’t think he acted alone.” As her pupils adjust to the light, she peers over the man’s shoulder and sees a police car with a man in the back. Although distant, she can faintly make out the silhouette of Mark. She notices McCarthy in the driver’s seat weighing down the left side of the squad car.

“Is that…Mark?”

“Detective Easton, LJ. That’s who I am.” He motions back to the car. “And Mark back there has been arrested for armed robbery.”

“Wha, what?” Luci begins to panic. “How, what? No, he’s a good man. There’s no way.”

“Yeah, I am sure he is and you are an excellent wife to support him.”

“Excuse me?” She is startled by the statement.

“Yeah, we caught him cruising with a few of his fellas last night spending money where they shouldn’t be out of supermarket bags they shouldn’t’ve had.” He chuckles a little as he realizes what he just said. “You people make it too easy sometimes.”

He lifts the bag up until it is about chest high and begins to unzip the duffle. Inside sits only a few recognizable items. Luci gasps.

“You see those, LJ. Those are three Nixion masks bought at a local Halloween store. You know what’s funny about those? There aren’t many masks being sold this time of the year, so it makes it pretty easy to track down.” Luci’s face begins to turn red from a combination of the heat and pressure from Easton. “And wouldn’t you know, this particular store has cameras.”

A tear begins to roll down Luci’s face.

“Kinda ironic you went with the Nixion masks, isn’t it?”

She covers her face in shame.

“And at the same store you were shopping at?” He laughs again as he grabs his cuffs. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to shit where you eat?”