Page 4 of Secondhand Smoke
On display was an assortment of musical supplies and past that, in the store, she could see rows upon rows of records and tapes and players. Behind that, guitars hung on the wall.
A familiar, irresistible urge came over her, and Nell leaned her bike against the building.
The bell jingled over the door as she walked in, and she realized the guitar music was coming from the speaker playing around the store—suitable for mood setting in any store, but particularly appropriate in this one.
Nell looked around, at the patrons. A few people were picking through records. A couple further down were trying on a pair of headphones. One man was fiddling with an instrument he obviously knew nothing about. One worker was reading a comic behind the counter, and the other was trying to sell a cassette to someone else.
No one noticed her, which made this situation both dangerous and perfect.
She approached the guitars, studying their designs.
Some looked very similar, some drastically different.
One, in particular, caught her eye; a deep, dark cherry wood boasting six untouched strings over its perfectly smooth surface.
Nell had seen one just like it before. One she doubted she’d ever see again.
Her hands itched to grab it, but she knew better.
She’d gone alittlecrazy, but not crazy enough to think she could get away with stealing an entire guitar. But here she was, needing to grabsomethingto end this incessant tension that had taken over her thoughts.
She looked around, weighing her alternative options.
Straps, strings, picks.
One of the picks matched the color of the wood—a perfect target.
She checked around her once again. The employee at the counter was still reading, and the other was nowhere to be seen. She was clear.
She grabbed the small pick and slipped it into her pocket without anyone noticing.
She turned and looked out the window. The rain hadn’t slowed; in fact, it seemed more intense than before. She’d have to stay a while, as uneasy as that made her after she’d stolen something.
She thought she was used to it by now, but sometimes the anxiety still caught her off guard.
She couldn’t help it, though.
Needing to look inconspicuous, Nell wandered around the aisles and pretended to look at the music and instruments. She paused every so often to check the state of the weather.
The guitar music ended and switched to a heavier rock piece.
She found herself by the guitars once again, then in front of the books. Note sheets and lesson books stared back at her, and she looked around. She never took more than one thing at once, and nothing ever this big.
But she stared at the title of this one:Guitar for Beginners.
This time, she wasn’t stealing for someone else. She would be stealing for herself.
She reached forward, grabbed the book, and quickly slipped it into her jacket.
“I think it’ll work better if you try to put it into the back of your dress. The beltmighthold it in long enough to get outside.”
Nell jumped and spun around, her arm stuck down at her side to hide the book against her.
A stone fell into her stomach.
The long-haired worker, who she thought had disappeared, grinned at her and leaned over the aisle barrier to rest his head on his hand like he was watching a movie.
Nell, the villain, was about to be caught.
