Spindrift

Chapter Ten

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Ariel hated shopping.

As in, if she could avoid going to the store for groceries, by solely growing her food on the island – and in reality was steadily working her way there – she would avoid even that. But, she hadn't figured out exactly how she was going to keep milking animals yet, or distillery for her father's alcohol.

She wore her clothes until she couldn't patch them anymore. If it weren't for the clothes she wore to work, which by their very nature had to be professional looking and relatively free of patched for working with the public, she wouldn't set foot in a clothing store since she came back from prison.

Stepping into the thrift store, she had no idea what she was going to need.

Michel's was high-end. As in sport coat high-end fine dining with nine forks at the table.

Maybe nine forks was an exaggeration.

She found herself an appropriate dress, not nearly so formal that it was cause her problems or stifle her scales. A nice, ruffly A-line skirt, empress – or was it princess' waist? A black sweater because it was the height of the humid season and she was going to freeze in that restaurant. She was going to wear her usual pair of slip-on sandals rather than buy a new pair.

But men's clothes... at a thrift store, that was an entirely different matter.

She stared at rack after rack of nothing but polo and sport shirts, happened to find one light blue dress shirt shoved way in the back of the store, and a pair of black dress pants that would fit Lee. But a sport coat?

"Nothing like that, honey," the clerk said at the counter.

"You might have to go to Nimble's," her partner said, as she attached hangers to shirts.

"Where would that be?" Ariel asked, because, after all, this wasn't her plan for the day.

This was way too short to be completely planned out and properly attended to, besides.

The ladies were kind enough to write the address down for Ariel, and after she paid, she went on her way, following the address to the posh side of town.

She stopped on the corner of the street, the saliva draining from her mouth and leaving her cotton tongued when she realized where, exactly, the ladies were sending her.

This wasn't the tourist side of town that Ariel knew well from working various jobs. This wasn't even the tourist attractions that lured her from time to time as a child.

No, this was the land of a good deal on a finance loan from the bank. This was the land of leveraged money. This was the land of keeping up with the Joneses and pray that the check cleared after payday and not before.

Ariel swallowed and adjusted her bags as she squared her shoulders and begged for the invisible string from above to pull her chin up from off her chest and throw back her head.

What did that actress say the key was, to dominating the environment? Head up, shoulders back and an 'I'm-going-to-kill' stare?

Well, Ariel Khol when to prison for a murder she didn't commit, so at least she had that going for her.

Didn't mean that she belonged here anymore than she belonged sunning herself on a nudist beach.

No one had to know. No one had the right to know about her past in passing conversation, because she was not her past.