Page 29 of Semblance

“What do you mean?” I asked. “Like you won’t take my business?”

She chuckled. “Enjoy the jeans,” she replied as she placed them in the shopping bag and handed them over to me.

“Just like that?” I asked incredulously. “I get to walk out of here without paying a cent?”

“Yes,” she said, still maintaining her glowing smile.

“You’re not entrapping me or anything? The second I walk out of the store, security’s not going to drag me back in and search me?”

“No, your purchase is valid.”

She rang up a receipt in the cash register and handed it over to me.

“Just to ease your worries,” she said.

I grabbed it, gave her my thanks, and walked out the store, stunned. Did that just happen? For me to walk out of a store with a three hundred dollar pair of jeans without dropping a cent was too good to be true.

Oddly enough, the same thing occurred when I tried to purchase a tall Americano at Starbucks. My credit card went inside the chip reader and the barista took my card out and handed it back to me, along with my drink, without any purchase confirmation.

“Enjoy,” he said.

Holy shit! Was it possible that my credit card had become the holy grail of unlimited shopping?

I needed to test this theory. I went to Michael Kors next and purchased a large Hamilton canvas tote handbag valued at five hundred and fifty dollars, followed by a cotton linen parka from Burberry priced at eight hundred and fifty bucks, and topped it off with a pair of Jimmy Choo pixel high heels costing six hundred bucks. Total value of purchases:two thousand bucks.

Total amount I was charged for these items: zero.

I was on cloud nine.

My shopping spree continued on for another two hours, until the mall’s closing. I had a grin that stretched across my entire face knowing that I had just restocked my wardrobe and jewelry collection with designer purchases.

Hunger soon gnawed at my stomach and I decided to treat myself to a special dinner.

As I sat at Omakase Japanese Restaurant, dining on pieces of raw fish that cost four hundred dollars per plate, I could only speculate on my recent fortunes.

No doubt, Shadow and this clandestine Midnight Society had a role to play in all this. As I looked at my piles of shopping bags—filled with dresses, shoes, sunglasses, etcetera, etcetera—with insuppressible glee, common sense snuck up from behind and struck me like a slap across the backside of my head.

By accepting all of these items, I had put myself in debt to these crazy people. I was blinded by my shopping frenzy and during those three hours of euphoric bliss, I had lost my mind.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I cursed aloud, drawing the attention of all the rich patrons in this overpriced—but incredibly delicious—restaurant.

“Is the sashimi to your liking?” the old sushi master asked, a dumbfounded look on his face.

“They own you too, don’t they?” I whispered as I dropped my chopsticks onto the table. “By eating these delectable pieces of raw fish, I’m handing my life over to your organization.”

The old master, whose wrinkles reminded me of a prehistoric turtle, looked at me, puzzled. Eventually he let out a deep sigh.

“There is an ancient Japanese proverb--” he began.

“Blah, blah, blah,” I said asI quickly pulled out my debit card that was linked directly to my bank account. There was no way I was going to add more to my tab owing to the Midnight Society, which was to be paid for with my soul.

“Your money is no good here,” turtle face replied.

“Charge me for this meal,” I cried out in desperation. “Please.”

“You are our guest here today. Your presence brings our restaurant great honor.”

“No, there’s nothing special about me. I pull up my pants the same way you do so let me pay for this freaking meal,” I demanded.

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