by Leanne Davis
“Did you really think you were going to get away with that?”
The teen stopped. She slowly pivoted on her ratty tennis shoes, raising big, blue eyes to stare at Sarah. She hunched her shoulders forward in a sign of defeat. What else did the girl think would happen? They were all alone in the shop, and Sarah had been standing at the cash register. She was obviously watching the teenager browse. The teen was far from a savvy thief.
“Away with what?”
“Away with the shirt you’ve got stashed in your bag.”
The girl raised her chin a fraction of an inch. “What makes you think that?”
Sarah rolled her eyes and pointed toward the girl’s bag. “I watched you. And if you’d like to see, I also have it on security video. And since your car is out front, I already have your license plate number written down. So leave now with my blouse, and I’ll just go to the police. Your choice.”
“There’s no choice.” The girl’s lip trembled as she whispered her feeble defiance.
“Sure there is. You can deal with me now, or the cops later. At least I don’t go on your permanent record.”
“You’re just going to call the cops anyway.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But let’s start with you giving me back my hundred-dollar plus shirt.”
The teen stood there shuffling her feet in obvious distress. She was slightly overweight, with long, blonde hair, dark blue eyes, and acne, which she tried to cover with her hair. The girl couldn’t be more than sixteen. Sarah’s annoyance at the girl was nearly smothered by how woebegone the teen looked. Why was this sad little girl shoplifting? And although the girl had argued, her tone was quivering with unshed tears. Judging by how bad she was at shoplifting, the teen likely was not in the habit of stealing.
The girl slowly walked over to Sarah. She took out the wadded shirt from her bag. It was in need of a washing and ironing before returning for sale.
Sarah took it and folded it neatly on the counter. She raised an eyebrow as she stared at the girl over the garment. “What’s your name?”
“Angie.”
“Angie what? I’m going to have to call your parents. I can’t just let you walk out of here like you didn’t try to steal from me. Do you get this is serious?”
Angie nodded her gaze on the floor. She’d be pretty if she combed back her stringy hair. She was dressed in baggy jeans and a lumpy sweatshirt, making her all around style benign, nearly nerdy. Angie didn’t look like a girl shoplifting to try and add to her wardrobe. What had prompted her do this today?
“There’s no one home.”
“I need an adult to call.”
“My mother won’t come, she’s at work. Maybe, well, maybe you could call Scott.”
“Who’s Scott? I need a responsible adult to talk to.”
Angie nodded. “Scott is my mother’s boyfriend.”
“Is there anyone else?”
She shook her head miserably. “No. There’s no one else. There’s never been anyone but my mom and Scott.”
Sarah sighed. Fine then, her mother’s boyfriend it was. She got Scott’s number from Angie and called him.
“Yeah?”
“Yes, hi, I’m looking for a Scott…” She raised her eyebrows to Angie.
“Delano,” Angie mouthed.
“Delano.”
“Yeah so? Why are you looking for me?”
“My name is Sarah Langston. I own a clothing shop in downtown Seaclusion.”
“Okay…”
“I have an Angie Delano here, and she gave me your name and number.”
“Angie? What’s going on?” The rudeness left Scott’s voice. She didn’t have a clue what he looked like, but she could picture him physically straightening up at the mention of Angie’s name. When she told him she had caught Angie shoplifting, he assured her he’d be right there. There was no waffling. He seemed to get that this was serious. And if he didn’t, she was going to enlighten him.
Angie and Sarah waited in silence. Sarah sat the teen in her office behind the sales desk. Angie stared at the floor, arms crossed over her chest as her hair fell over her face, reminding Sarah of “Cousin It” from the Addams family. She was no parent, but even she understood that this girl was acting out in hopes of getting someone’s attention. Whose? Her mother? The boyfriend?
A man entered her shop twenty minutes later. Was this Scott? She had to lower her gaze to keep the startled wonder from being obvious. He wore work clothes, dark boots, jeans, green sweatshirt, and a brown jacket. Dark brown work gloves stuck out of his coat pocket. He had auburn hair, hazel eyes, and he stood close to six foot five. He was about her age. What the hell? This couldn’t be Angie’s Scott, because if it was, Scott couldn’t be more than in his mid-twenties. Did he act as Angie’s guardian, or was he merely her mother’s boyfriend? But his reaction to the phone call about Angie was quick and concerned, just like most parents would react, implying he was more than just some man who dated her mother.
He looked around her shop. His gaze stopped on her standing behind the cash register as she tried to place who he resembled.
“Mr. Delano?”
He stepped in front of the sales desk, rocking on his heels, thumbs stuck in his pockets. He nodded. “Yeah, I’m Scott. What did Angie do exactly?”
“She took this blouse and stuffed it into her backpack. We were the only ones in here. I have it on surveillance if you’d like to see it. I haven’t called the police.”
“Why didn’t you?”
She frowned. What kind of question was that? “Because I was trying to do what was in the best interest of all involved. Angie didn’t seem like the type to usually do this. By the way she went about it, I thought maybe she was, I don’t know, acting out or something. Maybe she wanted to get caught. Maybe she wanted someone’s attention. Yours perhaps?”
“Perhaps,” he said, frowning, barely sparing a glance at her as he looked around her shop. “Where is she?”
She gritted her teeth. She should have called the police and skipped this unpleasant encounter. She wished she wasn’t alone in the shop with Angie and Scott. She led Scott back into her office. Angie sat looking as lost as she had before. Was the poor girl stewing with fear over facing Scott Delano’s probably ruthless anger?
Scott stared at the teen for a moment as if waiting for Angie to gather the strength to face him. Finally, Angie looked up, her eyes big, round saucers. Sarah felt sorry for the girl. Scott stood with his arms crossed over his chest, making him look even more threatening. Maybe the cops would have been a kinder route.
“What’s going on, kiddo?”
Sarah blinked and looked up sharply at Scott’s profile, her mouth open. The tone didn’t match the gruffness of the man. Angie shrugged in a halfhearted attempt to avoid him.
“Come on, you have to talk to me.”
Angie’s gaze dropped, and her hair slid to cover her face. Scott stepped closer, leaned down on one knee, and brushed the curtain of Angie’s hair back. She kept her gaze averted.
“You’re in trouble here. You’re lucky I was called and not the police. The police, Angie, you get that, right?”
Angie nodded and bit her lower lip.
“What were you thinking? You know better than this. Why did you do it?”
“I just…” Angie’s voice faded off.
“You what?” Scott pushed Angie’s hair behind her ear. He tucked two fingers under her chin and forced her to look him in the eye.
“I don’t have anything to wear.”
Scott sat back on his heels. His mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding me, I hope. You shoplifted because you have nothing to wear? You’ve got a closet full of clothes. What the hell is going on with you?”
Scott rose to his feet as he spoke and started to pace. Angie glanced up at Sarah through her hanging hair and twisted her hands together in her lap. Sarah stayed silent.
“I do have clothes. But none of them fit.”
Scott missed a step and sto
pped dead.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a fat cow, and nothing fits me anymore.”
Scott’s shoulders slumped, and his eyes turned flat. After a long pause he said, “You are most definitely not a fat cow, and I don’t want to hear you talk that way about yourself. But nothing excuses shoplifting. If you are having a problem, you should talk to your mother, not commit a crime.”
“I have. She told me to quit stuffing my face like a pig so I could fit into what I already own.”
He stepped back as if Angie had pushed him. Sarah gasped, air hissing softly through her clenched teeth. No wonder Angie had pulled this stunt. Her mother’s insult would easily spur any fragile, overweight girl, into acting out. Her self-loathing was evident from the way she slouched all the way down to how she shuffled her feet.
“Your mother said that to you?” Scott’s voice was hesitant.
“She did. She said I was eating like a fat cow and why should she have to buy me a new wardrobe because I had no self-control?”
Sarah stepped forward. “Look. No harm was done. I’m convinced this isn’t a habit of Angie’s, so I’m willing to let it go. I think this time we can forget about it.”
Angie raised her head to Sarah, her eyes hopeful.
“It isn’t a habit of hers. No way however, is she getting off so easy.” Scott turned to Sarah, and then back to Angie with a frown.
“But Mom—”
“Your mother and I will have a talk about what she said. She should never have said that to you. I’m sorry. But neither should you have responded by doing this. You should have come to me.”
“And said what? I’m too fat for my mother to buy clothing for?”
Sarah flinched at the raw self-hatred in Angie’s tone.
“That’s not true.” His brow wrinkled, and his jaw clenched.
“It is true. Look at me. Everyone knows it.”
His mouth set into a tense line. He glanced at Angie, and Sarah’s heart softened for him. He was trying to be kind, while so obviously out of his comfort zone in how to confront a distraught teenager over her self-image.
“I’m sorry your mother handled this so wrong. But you know I’d help you in any way I could, right?”
“Yes,” Angie said, with no hesitation. Whatever he was to Angie, she had no qualms about believing in him.
“Then you know I’d help you with this, too. Stealing wasn’t necessary.”
Tears filled Angie’s eyes. “I’d rather steal than come to you because my clothes don’t fit me.”
Scott spread his hands palms up as if in surrender. “Why would you ever hesitate in coming to me?”
“You don’t look at me like everyone else. I don’t want you to start. So, if I had come to you for money, for clothes, you’d look and see why I needed it.”
Angie didn’t want Scott seeing her as fat. Scott’s opinion in Angie’s world was top priority. Sarah was fascinated and confused by whatever relationship these two had, compounded by the mother who handled such a delicate situation in the worst way possible.
“I love you just as you are. You know that. You come to me when you’re in trouble, or when you’re thinking about trouble. No matter what.”
Scott stepped in front of Angie, nudging her toe with his, making her meet his gaze. Angie finally nodded. Sarah didn’t know what to say. The girl was screaming for acceptance, for help, and somehow this stern man who looked fresh from a construction site, gave it to her. This man who couldn’t be more than ten years Angie’s senior. What the hell was Scott to her?
“Now you owe Ms. Langston an apology. She’s been more than kind to you. You’re lucky you chose to steal from her and not someone who would have called the cops first and asked questions later.”
Angie squirmed as she peeked up through lowered lashes. She was so shy Sarah ached for her. “I’m sorry.”
“And she’ll be paying for the shirt.”
Sarah glanced at Scott. “It’s not one of my cheaper blouses.”
“I know what kind of shop you run here. And nothing is cheap. Angie will buy what she stole.”
Angie shot to her feet. “But I don’t have any money.”
“Of course you don’t. You’re going to earn every blessed dollar it takes to buy it.”
“Oh.” Angie sank back down, deflated. “How much?”
“A hundred twenty-four ninety-nine,” Sarah said reluctantly. There was no denying the price tag on the shirt lying across her desk.
“I don’t have that kind of money.”
“I guess you should have shoplifted from the dollar store. What did you think this place was?” Scott’s sarcasm stopped Angie dead. Angie dropped her head back down, and her hair slid back into place.
Scott dug out his wallet.
“You’re buying it for her?”
“She gets to figure out how to pay me back.”
“We don’t have to buy it,” Angie said, her tone feeble.
Scott jerked his head around, his eyes blazing as he zeroed in on Angie now standing in the corner with her arms huddled over her middle. “Do you think because your mother was mean to you it somehow excuses what you did today? Do you really think I should let you get away with stealing? No way, little girl. You’re going to earn every cent you stole until you realize how much money this is.”
“But how?”
“We’ll find you a job,” Scott said his tone sharp.
Sarah took the money as Scott and Angie followed her to the cash register. Scott rested his elbow on the counter, his gaze pinned to her as she worked.
Why was he staring so intently at her? “You really don’t have to buy this.”
“Yeah. I do. Angie needs to learn a lesson about her actions having consequences.” He crossed his arms over his chest. He seemed disinclined to explain any more of who Angie was to him, and he to her, and where the mother fit into their situation.
“I know it isn’t my business, but I was a teenage girl once, and it can be the worst experience in life,” Sarah said after another long moment.
“I don’t think you know what someone like Angie is going through.”
“Why would you think I don’t understand her?”
“Because look at you,” Scott said, his gaze running from her hair, down her face, and over her chest. By his glare he didn’t like what he was seeing.
“It’s not about looks. It’s about how she feels inside. Why do you think I didn’t call the police? Having low self-confidence is complicated. Especially when—”
“They’re overweight. I got it.”
“I was going to say when they feel like no one understands them. Like their own mother.”
“Yeah, I caught that, too.”
“It can’t be easy to have her own mother criticize what she is already feeling bad about.”
“I get it.” He clenched his jaw.
Was he gritting his teeth at her? Why? She was simply pointing out why Angie could be acting out.
“Her mother isn’t a bad mother. She just gets things wrong sometimes. And Angie pays.”
And you? What was he to the equation? She handed Scott his change, and then wrapped the blouse in tissue paper and put it into one of the custom bags emblazoned with Sarah’s Secrets in her silver and purple store logo.
He turned to leave, then stopped and spun on his heel. “Have you figured it out yet?”
“What out?”
“Where you know me from.”
“I don’t know you.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, stretching the material of his coat at the elbows. “You’ve been staring me up and down since I walked in. You really don’t know do you?”
“Know what?”
“Come off it, prom queen, you really don’t know who I am?”
She had been prom queen her senior year in high school. Why would this man know that?
“We went to high school together. I walked with you around the gym during the homecoming assembly. Scott Delano, capta
in of the track team? Doesn’t that ring any bells?”
She narrowed her eyes. He’d recognized her right off. But…she still didn’t remember him. High school? Could be. She remembered a kid walking with her during the parade assembly where the ten wanna-be prom queens were escorted by captains of different sport teams around the gym. Afterwards the entire school had voted. But what the boy looked like…she couldn’t say.
“No. I’m sorry I don’t—”
“Forget it,” he snapped. He turned on his heel. “Like it matters in the least.”
He took Angie’s arm and led her out of the shop. Sarah stared after them as they got into an older, white pickup truck. She shook her head. That was the strangest confrontation she’d ever had. Scott’s intense gruffness, and his all-around disdain of her was the antithesis of his gentleness with a teenage girl who wasn’t his, yet he treated almost as if he were her father. She couldn’t stop thinking about the incident which took no more than an hour of her life. So the overweight teen had a mean mother which prompted her to shoplift. So some guy from high school remembered her, and she didn’t remember him. So what?
Why then did the twosome linger with her throughout the rest of the afternoon? And why did she have a nagging feeling she was missing something about the situation? Something obvious and important.
The shop’s phone rang. She answered it to moans and heavy breathing. She slammed it down. There was no one in the shop, no one on the street. The phone call sent goose bumps up and down her arms. She got pranks at the store from time to time. Teenagers usually, playing on the Sarah’s Secrets name. This was just another one. However today, she’d had enough of teenage angst and pranks to last her a lifetime.
A word about the author...
Leanne Davis has earned a business degree from Western Washington University. She worked for several years in the construction management field before turning full time to writing. She lives in the Seattle area with her husband and two children. When she isn't writing, she and her family enjoy camping trips to destinations all across Washington State.
