Cigarette Swiper [Sandra]

[Jamison Dubois]

Jamie ran a hand through his hair, the door opening with a ding as he walked into the Superkwik market. He wasn’t happy, and he probably didn’t look happy either. Really, he had planned on spending his entire Saturday laying outside doing nothing. It was nice - not sweltering like it had been - which meant Jamie wasn’t going to do anything. Well, at least until he reached into his packet of cigarettes and pulled out his last cigarette.

Well, fuck.

There went his lazy day. Now he had to drag himself all the way downtown. Ugh…

It was always a little tricky here since the cigarettes were behind the counter and Jamie didn’t have a fake ID. He looked a little bit older than seventeen, but the cashier wouldn’t let him buy a pack unless he showed his driver’s license. Fucking goody-two shoes.

Luckily, the packs were set up sort of close to the door. So if he skulked around long enough and waited for the perfect opportunity, he’d be able to snatch a pack and high-tail it out the door without the cashier knowing. He’d grown pretty stealthy about it over the years, but sometimes he had a feeling that the cashier just looked away on purpose because he didn’t want Jamie lurking around the store for hours on end.

Whatever. As long as he got his pack in the end and the cashier didn’t go running to the cops, Jamie really didn’t give a fuck.

So he just waited, casually looking at the candies stacked up near the exit, glancing over every now and then to see if the cashier had either left his post or was very wrapped up in checking someone out or whatever it was cashiers did during the day.

[Sandra Murdoch]

Sandra looked like she'd just stepped out of a Coldwater Creek catalog: with red cropped jeans, navy and white tunic top, star spangled earrings and washed out flag printed scarf she was the picture of dignified patriotism. 

She had stopped at the Superkwik market after a meeting with some investors, filling up on gas; she had expected to need less fuel away from big cities, but it turned out that rather than travel taking forever because of traffic, travel took forever because nothing was nearby. She'd driven all the way into Burlington and back, and by the time she arrived in Pilot Ridge her gas was almost at empty. 

So she had pulled into the tiny gas station, filling up, and then she had decided that while she was here perhaps she would purchase a cup of coffee and a baked good. Service stations usually had wrapped goods, and while the calorie count was atrocious eating one once or twice wasn't going to hurt her figure. 

She pulled the car into one of the parking spaces, hiked her purse over her shoulder, and went inside. She wrinkled her nose at the lottery tickets, ignoring the young man hovering nearby. He didn't quite fit her idea of a delinquent, and so he wasn't worth paying any attention to. Instead she headed towards the coffee machines in the back, grimacing as she realized there was a very sticky pool of coffee on the floor. 

"Excuse me!" She called, making her way back to the front of the store, staring down the cashier. "There's a mess in the back, you need to come clean this up! Someone could fall and hurt themselves!"

[Jamison Dubois]

Jamie shook a box of SnowCaps in his hand, leisurely waiting for his opportunity to strike. He was getting a little impatient, but he didn’t think he’d have to wait too much longer. He’d already been loitering around the store for like fifteen minutes.

The ding of the front door opening distracted him slightly, causing him to glance over at the door out of habit, rather than actual interest. The woman who walked through the door looked like a walking billboard for American patriotism. Was this bitch seriously for real? It wasn’t even the fucking Fourth of July yet.

The woman walked by him, not even sparing a glance his way, instead just marching into one of the back aisles. Jamie glanced back over at the cashier, who was still standing at his post. Clearly not moving.

And then by the grace of God himself, the woman came back over to the front, bitching about spilled coffee or something fucking stupid. With a sigh, and a quick apology, the cashier grabbed a mop from behind the counter and disappeared in between the aisles.

Fucking finally. Jamie leaned over the side of the counter, easily swiping a pack of Marlboro Reds off one of the lower shelves and slipping it into his pocket. He was out the door in less than thirty seconds, the bell ringing behind him as it swung shut.