Page 28 of The Confidentiality Clause
“Can I help you find something?” he asks with a cheery smile. He’s got on one of the bigfoot t-shirts, with a flannel thrown over it, and cargo shorts that look as though every pocket is full to the brim. The outlook of him finding me what I need seems slim.
“I’m looking for a solid color t-shirt–preferably black–and shorts that have no more than the average amount of pockets.”
His eyebrows raise at my request. “All right. We have some plain t-shirts on the other side of the store. As for the shorts, we have swim trunks without pockets, but I’m afraid the majority of our selection is made for hikers and campers who benefit from being prepared.”
“If you could point me in the right direction, that would be great.”
He shows me what I was hunting for, though not without giving me a few odd looks. I can’t blame him. I’m sure he doesn’tget many men in suits requesting the opposite of what his store stands for. It’s not like I can tell the kid I was brought here against my will. As fun as it would be to see the look on his face, I don’t need Ariel getting arrested. Mainly because I don’t know the address or the code to the cabin, and all of my work stuff is in there. Not because the thought of her in jail is one I can’t stomach.
I grab a pack of black t-shirts, two pairs of swim trunks, and a pair of flannel pajama pants. Then I find a toiletry kit I’m sure is meant for camping, but it’ll do for now. I’m heading toward the register when I hear Ariel talking.
“He’s cute, isn’t he?” she asks.
I peek around the row of racks and find her absentmindedly toying with bracelets made out of hemp.
“S, come on, you can’t seriously have anything bad to say about him. He’s a pediatrician with two dogs. He runs marathons in his free time and is looking to settle down.”
I stay hidden, curious about her conversation. I’d start teasing her if I didn’t know that S was her nickname for Sutton. We can’t afford to be found out.
“It is not a red flag that his dogs wear sweaters. It’s cute.”
I press my lips together to keep from laughing. No self-respecting man would dress up his dog unless he had a girlfriend or wife forcing him to.
“Shaw doesn’t know everything. He’s worth a first date, at least.”
My phone buzzes. Connection is spotty, even in this ‘town,’ so I’m certain I have notifications building up. While I enjoy listening to this conversation, I need to get back to work. I’ve missed enough today. I start to head in her direction. Her back is to me, so she doesn’t see me right away.
“He’s not going to murder me. That documentary got to you.” She sighs. “Of courseI’m going to share my location with you, Ialways do. And I’ll text you during the date too as much as I can. I won’t be going out for a few days, though. I’m at the cabin for the weekend.”
I tap her on the shoulder. She jumps and whips around. I hold up my haul to signal I’m ready to go. She nods.
“Go enjoy the rest of your night with Shaw. And no more serial killer documentaries. You know that stuff gets stuck in your head.” She rolls her eyes while sporting a smile. I can only imagine what Sutton is saying. “Love you too, S.”
“Sounds like an interesting conversation,” I say once Ariel hangs up.
“You know how Sutton is.” She tucks her phone into the pocket of her biker shorts. “Ready to go?”
“I found the only acceptable clothing items in the store, so yes.”
She rolls her eyes. “And Sutton thinks she’s the high-maintenance twin.”
I scoff. “It’s not high maintenance to want clothes for normal human beings.”
She laughs as we walk to the register. “People who hike and camp aren’t normal?”
“If you go multiple days without indoor plumbing, I question your sanity,” I say as we near the check-out counter.
The sunny teenager from before dims at my words. I cringe. Probably shouldn’t have said that in front of him. Oh well. I’ll be out of his hair soon, and he’ll never see me again.
“Is this all for you?” he asks in a stiff voice.
“That’s it. Thank you for your help, by the way.” I try to mend my blunder with gratitude. Judging by the tight smile he gives me, it doesn’t work.
I pay, and he shoves my purchases into a paper bag.
“Have a nice night.”
“You too,” I say with a half smile, half grimace. Not my best look.
