It took me three weeks to get the nerve to go back to the store. Luckily a young man was behind the counter. As I checked out the tapes, I heard the bell on the front door ring. Turning, I saw the girl jog in with a sweat stained athletic shorts and top on. She was built! I could see the bundles of muscles ripple as she moved.
The boy said, “Tabby, could you come in an hour early this evening? I've got a date." “Okay Joey but you owe me one already. How about trading my Friday shift? I don't like the weekend rush."
“Fine. But if I do trade, you will have to come in two hours early today."
“Deal?"
“Deal."
She turned and saw me staring. She seemed to know what I was looking at. She gave me a silent smile. Turning, she jogged out of the store. Totally embarrassed, I left the store as fast as I could. After that day, I would stop at the video store on Thursdays just to see her. I had learned my lessons from the first two times that I met her. I let her lead the conversations and only opened my mouth the minimum. She was in her twenties. I was in my thirties. I wanted to ask her out but I knew this being a small town the gossip would be hard to take. Instead, we talked about movies and her college classes for fifteen, twenty minutes every time I came in. That was enough for me after my problems with Hanna, girls were unfathomable.
Today I had to see Tabitha just to get Hanna out of my mind.
Chapter 3
Testing
Move-over watched as I got the pickup keys and billfold from my dresser. He gave a yowl as he turned his back. His tail held high, he turned strutting to the front of the house. I knew, when I pulled out of the yard, he would be in the front window watching.
The reason why I was going to town was to see a pretty girl. A couple years back I was proofreading an article by a feminist psychologist about men and girl watching. She ranted and raved about how bad men were and used a mumbo jumbo of big terms to support her ideas. The article was printed. After all, it was just a filler editorial. I knew then what was wrong with her ideas. As I was just a proofreader at that time, no one would listen to me. A basic biological drive of all species is to procreate. It is the only way a species will survive. Its importance, at least in men, is that for an instant of time only one thing is in your mind, the beauty of a woman—i.e. How capable is her potential to reproduce? Whenever a man sees a woman for the first time, he biologically has to classify her with the unconscious programming in his brain on her fertility. Old women trigger one set of responses, young girls another. The biological response flushes the clutter of thoughts about work, relationships, or watching eyes from the mind for the few seconds you first see the pretty girl. When the clutter comes back, the short break makes it manageable again. Like all things that create brief interludes of happiness, some become addicted. I might be. I don't know. All I do know is that after this last week I need my mind cleaned by a pretty girl. I need an emotional fix caused by the male physiology.
I entered the store with the accompanying clang of the entrance bell. She looked up from the TV playing over the counter and smiled. I nodded and went to the back of the store. The smile worked. I forgot the eyes watching me. I took my time checking the video boxes. I wanted the emotional fix to last as long as possible. I knelt to examine the boxes of a selection of ‘B’ movies that were kept near the floor. The doorbell clanged and something changed in the store.
A voice said, “All clear. Only the dummy bitch behind the counter."
After a period of silence, another voice said, “Listen Bitch. You just stand still or I'll cut you."
Staying down next to the floor, I eased around the video shelves until I could see the front desk. Two punks with knives were at the counter. One was at the front of the desk waving a switchblade in the air in
front of Tabitha's face. The second kid was standing next to Tabitha rummaging in the cash register, a knife blade and bills oozing out of his fists.
The punk in front of the counter said, “The Bitch ain't bad. Let's take her with us."
The one behind the counter answered, “Hell. Robbery is one thing. Snatching a bitch?"
“Sure why not. You've heard her talk. She's a dummy. We just say she wanted it."
The second kid looked her over and slowly a sick grin came to his face. He jabbed Tabitha in the back and shoved her out from behind the counter. From the flinch of pain on Tabitha's face, I knew he had cut her with the knife. The punks started to snicker and give each other congratulatory shoves. Tabitha had walked one step away from the kids while they were busy flattering themselves. I knew I had to do something. From the back of the store, I started to sprint at the boys. Two steps away from them I threw myself into the back of their legs. We all came down in a tangle. I yelled, “Run!” just before my head slammed into the floor.
The next thing I knew I was laying on the floor with groans coming from either side of me. I looked up. Tabitha stood there with the knives in her hand. For an instant, I held my breath. She was beautiful. Face carved in stone. Her hair swept back. A Valkyrie come to life. I turned to the boys next to me on the floor. Both were curled into fetal positions with the hands between their legs withering in pain. The one on my right seemed to be bleeding from the ears.
I backed away from the boys and Tabitha. “I'll call the police,” I whispered. At the phone behind the counter, I dialed 911. One of the boys seemed to recover a little and tried to get up. Tabitha kicked him in the stomach so hard he slide a couple of feet across the floor. The boys stayed on the floor until the sheriff’s deputy showed up.
When I drove into the yard, Move-over watched as I pulled past the windows of the house. His slitted eyes tracked me to the garage. I went into my workroom. Move-over was already there lying on the old computer his head above the cooling fan.
I got to work on an article by a physicist on a new attempt at a Grand Unification Theory. My hands shook as I touched the keys. At first, my mind wouldn't leave the assault and the police questioning. But one thing about Quantum Mechanics is that you have to concentrate to follow the mathematics. Something about the equations fluttered at the edge of thought. The electromagnetic wave equations looked good. The predicted wave pattern with the addition of a gravity pulse looked interesting ... Something about the nuclear binding forces? What was implied by the equations? If I summarize the starting premises using fuzzy logic algorithms, what would change with...
I woke to knocking at the front door. My head throbbed from lying against the computer chassis. I staggered to my feet. Touching my head, I felt the welt caused by the edge of the computer. Through a window, I saw a large man standing by the door. Living in Chicago for twelve years, makes you cautious. I slipped a wedge under the door when I opened it so it would only move a few inches.
“Hello."
“Mister Daniel Karpinen?” came the stranger's voice.
“Yes.” I answered starting to get a little worried.
“Mr. Blythe would like to know if you are alright."
“Mr. Blythe? Who is he?" “His son was involved in the incident at the video store today. He requested that I stop and see if you needed anything. He is sorry if his son caused you any problems or misunderstandings. He would like you to know that if you need any help to get over this incident you can contact me.” He then handed me a card and left. The simple card read ‘John W. Jones Attorney at Law’ with a phone number at the bottom.
I dropped the card on the table and stumbled into bed. The recoil of my body coming down from the adrenaline rush of the assault at the store had made me groggy. As I fell asleep, I felt safe. I knew that Move-over's eyes were watching.