Chapter 249: I don't want to get sweaty
"You just made $180 in your first half-hour as a model. I thought you might be thinking about switching to a career where you could work five hours a day and make in one month what you earn now in a year. Just a thought."
"You're kidding!"
"Nope. Do the math."
"Hmmmm. That can't be right. Can it?"
"Even better, use modeling as a way to promote your own line of exercise videos. The store appearances tie in with the video sales naturally and everyone benefits. If you work this right, you could retire at 30."
"You don't think small, do you?"
"Product endorsements, your own clothing line, TV appearances — think about it. Eventually you could just be famous for being famous."
"What? How does that work?"
"Damn if I know. Ask George Hamilton."
"Hunh?"
"You know who George Hamilton is?"
"Sure. He's an actor."
"What's the last movie he starred in?"
"Uh, I don't... oh, that funny Zorro movie!"
"That was made 25 years ago. What's he been doing since?"
"Well, I don't know, but I see him all the time in stuff — TV, commercials, movies, lots of stuff."
"Did he star in any of them? Co-star?"
"Well, no. Just cameos."
"See? His acting career died in the 80's, but he was so famous and so recognizable that he just kept getting work simply because of that. The whole thing fed on itself and now everyone knows who he is, but most of them haven't a clue why he's famous, except for having a great tan. Someone should do a study of the phenomenon. The psychological basis behind fame for fame's sake."
"Sam?"
"What?"
"You're weirding me out here."
"Sorry. I run off at the mouth a lot."
"Are you sure you're only 18?"
"That's what it says on my library card. Seriously, don't mind me. I think of a lot of things and once I get going I just can't stop. Let's go in here, I want to look for a silver chain to go with my bells."
The jewelry store had plenty of silver chain, but I had a hard time finding one like I wanted. I tried to explain to the clerk that I wanted one a foot long with hooks on both ends, but all she could find were necklaces that had a hook on one end and a clasp on the other. Eventually she led me to a back room to talk to the jeweler himself. He introduced himself as Everett Markson and got right to business.
"Well, young lady, what can I do for you? Something for a special occasion, maybe?"
He was a small, elderly gentleman. He had tiny hands and wore a visor with very powerful magnifying lenses built into it.
"I want a silver chain, about a foot long. It needs to have hooks on both ends to connect to 8 gauge rings. The hooks should have spring closures."
"That's not a problem. I can do that very easily. Pardon my curiosity, but how do you plan to wear this piece?"
"Well, I have these rings, you see..." I pulled my top up under my chin and leaned forward over his desk so he could get a good look at my rings and the bell pendants, which rang clearly in the small office. He was startled at my boldness and he blinked a couple of times and then recovered his professional demeanor. He flipped down his visor and examined my jewelry with interest.
"Hmmmmm. Very nice work. The welds could be better, but overall it's very nice work. May I ask who did this for you? Was it Morrie Kaufmann, downtown?"
"Actually, he's not in the business. It's a hobby for him. He did these as a present and I thought they would look nice with a chain connecting them."
"They certainly would. And if I may say so, you have the perfect presentation for a piece like this."
That was about the most genteel way I had ever heard anyone say, "Nice tits". I smiled happily and thanked him for the compliment. He showed me a selection of chains with a style compatible with that of the pendants and then he made a suggestion.
"Have you considered something like a charm bracelet? You will have a good length to work with and you could add charms as you liked. I'm sure the weight would not be a problem for you."
I thought that was a wonderful idea. While I was picking out a chain he had another good suggestion.
"Those bell pendants are lovely, but wouldn't it be more convenient for you if you could take them off the rings? I could put the same type of catches on them if you like?"
So I let him clip the small silver rings holding the bell-chains to the larger nipple rings and after we agreed on a chain, I went back to the front of the store to pick out a few charms while he soldered the hooks.
While I looked over the selection of charms, I wondered if Bambi would like something from Markson's Jewelers.
"Excellent idea," Neeka said, startling Sue, since I hadn't spoken the thought aloud.
"What is?" Sue asked.
"Buying Mom a bracelet," I said.
"How about a locket?" Neeka asked. "You could put your picture inside."
"You think she'd like that?"
"Trust me. She will love it."
"What do you think, Sue?"
"I think it's sweet. I think you should do it."
We picked out a brushed-gold locket and had it engraved, "For Mom, Love Sam", which was about all that would fit on the back. I wondered what girls named Evangelista or Independence bought for their mothers. Larger jewelry, apparently.
We ran down to the arcade next to the food court while Mr. Markson was doing the engraving and used the photo booth to make some photos of me. I wasn't sure this was a great idea, but Neeka assured me that I could always give her a better picture later. This would be just for the presentation and that giving her an empty locket would not have the same emotional impact as one with my face in it.
I managed not to mug for the camera, so at least one picture was acceptable to all three of us. We carefully trimmed it to fit and put it in the locket before it was gift-wrapped. I had to admit, it was a great idea for a present. The locket was beautiful and didn't cost nearly as much as I was afraid it might.
Once we had the chain, the charms, and the gift-wrapped locket all sorted out, the clerk asked the question I had been expecting.
"And how would you like to pay for these, Miss?"
I proudly opened my wallet and took out my gold credit card and handed it to her. I was actually making my first purchase with my very own credit card. It was totally exciting.
"Very good. Now I will just need to see your driver's license for identification."
My joy evaporated in an instant. I wouldn't have a driver's license for another year at least. I hadn't considered that one would be necessary for me to use the card. The clerk must have seen the distress building on my face.
"Of course, we can accept any generally accepted form of photo ID. Military IDs, passports, that sort of thing," she said, helpfully.
I was very disappointed. I looked at Neeka for a suggestion as to how I could deal with this. She started giggling, which I thought was tactless of her.
"You goof," Neeka said, out loud for everyone to hear, "show her your ID. The government-issued ID you keep in your other wallet."
Ah! Light dawned. I could complete the purchase after all, at the risk of another kind of embarrassment. I had no choice, however. I took out my lumpy wallet and handed it over. The clerk opened it up and looked at the recent photo and the name and address and then she looked at the shiny bronze badge opposite the plastic card. Then she looked at me and the photo and the badge again. I smiled as charmingly as I could while I waited for the inevitable question.
"Um, is this real?" She dropped her businesslike tone in favor of one more appropriate to a surprised college freshman.
"Yes, very real. If you need to check, you can call the Sheriff's office and ask for personnel, or you can ask for Lt. Grogan, the SWAT commander, or I can give you the direct number of a Police Detective, or I can even give you Sheriff Foster's private number and you can ask him directly."
"Nooooo, I don't think that will be necessary, ah, Miss, er, Officer, um, Deputy."
"Sam. Just call me Sam. Do you actually get many people trying to pass bogus law enforcement credentials in this store?"
"No, it's just that you look... well, you don't look like a Deputy."
"Too blonde?"
"No, of course..."
"Too short?"
"No..."
"What, then?"
"Too pretty?"
"Thank you. That's the first good answer I've had to that question. It's BS, but I'll give you credit for having the guts to use it."
"OK, OK, you got me cornered. If you want to know the truth, those are the biggest boobs I've ever seen on any girl outside of an adult video."
"So, all girls with more than a DD-cup should be acting in porn flicks? You were doing so well, there. Now you've messed up again."
"NO! But there have to be easier jobs. I'd think you would want to do something that made the best use of your... assets." She chose her words carefully so I wouldn't be able to complain again.
"Good! That's exactly what I'm doing. And I don't necessarily agree that someone should automatically look for the easiest job. Many times it's the hard jobs that are the most rewarding. Have you ever tried something that you knew was hard, just to see if you could handle it?"
"A bunch of us went camping in the mountains over spring break, instead of going to the beach. I wasn't crazy about the idea, but I went anyway."
"And you hated it?"
"Yes, at first. It was rough. We had to carry everything up this long trail on our backs. We had to put up tents, build fires, haul water..."
"Shit in the woods, like bears?"
"That too. It was barbaric."
"How did you feel when you got back?"
"Worn out. Sore. Dirty. But I felt better about myself — more confident in what I could do. Is that what you mean?"
"Exactly. Now what if there was an important job that you knew you could do, but that few others could handle. Would you try to find something easier that you could do instead?"
She thought about it. If I hadn't gotten her to do anything else, it was enough to get her to think about it. After she mulled it over for a while, she said, "No, I guess not."
"That's how I feel, too. It's all about the girl in the mirror. Ask her," I said. Then I noticed the nametag pinned to her blouse. I smiled and added, "Ask Alice. But don't fall through the mirror!"
Alice handed me the receipt and I signed it carefully. She gave me back a copy, my badge, my gold card, and the bag with my chain and Mom's locket in it.
From the puzzled look on Alice's face, she hadn't been paying attention in English Lit when the works of Charles L. Dodgson were being discussed. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only girl in town who believed in the value of an education.
Sue saw my frown and said, "Don't feel bad, Sam. I got it. I didn't spend all my time at school under a stack of weights. And I substitute in some Senior-level classes on occasion. I do have a teaching certificate, even if I usually just teach PhysEd."
"Thanks! I was beginning to wonder if I was the one who had fallen down the rabbit hole into a world of the uneducated." I had stopped thinking of Sue as a teacher or even as someone other than my girlfriend. She slipped into the 13-going-on role so thoroughly it was hard to remember that she had already graduated college.
"It seems that way sometimes. We live in a society that seems to cater to the lowest common denominator. There are very few cultural rewards for being smart or even adequately educated. Say, speaking of classes, I just remembered, how are you coming with the martial arts class?"
"Next one is Wednesday, but we've been practicing."
"We?"
"Neeka is my sparring partner. We're taking the class together."
"Isn't that something of a mismatch?"
"Well, I try not to cream her if I can help it."
"No. I mean, she has a few inches of height and reach over you and she probably outweighs you by a few pounds as well."
"Gee, thanks!" Neeka said in an insulted tone. "You think I'm fat?"
"Nooo. I just mean you have so much advantage over Sam. How could sparring between you two be an even match?"
Neeka and I looked at each other with a steely gaze. It would look to Sue like we were getting ready to fight, but really we were doing everything we could to keep from laughing out loud at the suggestion that Neeka had a physical advantage over me. One smirk would be all it took.
When I had suppressed the urge to giggle, I led the way to a side-corridor where there were no shoppers because the storefront was boarded up and painted with a big mural that said, "Sandal Circus - Coming Soon!" in big theatrical letters. We handed Sue the bags, kicked off our shoes, and walked to the middle of the open space, stopping about ten feet apart and bowing as we had been taught.
"What speed?" she asked me silently as she pulled her hair back and tied it in a pony-tail.
"Full out," I said, "But just for a couple of minutes. I don't want to get sweaty."
"OK. Go!"
I deliberately telegraphed my first move, a leaping kick to her head. But she was already way ahead of me and sidestepped sharply to let my foot fly over her shoulder. She stepped to my back and tried for a kidney punch, which I blocked with my right hand. I used the force of her blow to spin and landed facing her.
She was in my face immediately, aiming an open-hand strike at my nose. I ducked under her blow and stepped to my left, pivoting and throwing a kick at her right shin. She jumped and I cartwheeled left coming up facing her again and throwing a long forward punch to keep her from advancing on me.
She easily deflected the punch and countered with a kick to my outstretched chin. I wasn't balanced enough to dodge left or right, so I jumped up and over her, somersaulting over her head and reaching down to tap her forehead as I went past. I felt great about that, because it was one of the few times I managed to get in a touch.
When I landed, she advanced again and we went into a fast flurry of jabs and parries, during which neither of us managed to gain an advantage. I was faster, but I had to watch my control so I didn't break her arm if I hit too hard. She could strike without worrying about how hard she hit me if she made contact, and she could block almost before I thought of moving.
We went on for longer than the planned two minutes, because I thought I might be getting closer to moving on reflex alone, which would mean I could nullify Neeka's mindreading advantage. After an extra minute, I had to give it up, because thinking about it just led to more thinking about it, not less.
As soon as we stepped away from each other, a female security guard stepped in between us and said, "All right, that's enough of that! We won't have any fighting in this mall!"
I wondered how long she had been waiting for a safe moment to intervene before she dared get close to us. I felt Neeka smile in my head. There had been exactly two blows that actually landed during the whole fight and both amounted to just a tap to signify a score. We hadn't been sparring together for very long, but we were so well meshed that we looked much better than we actually were, especially with the flashy moves that I felt I had to throw in.
I looked past the big-boned security guard at a small group of onlookers who had gathered to watch the show while Neeka and I were jumping around like grasshoppers on a hot stove. Now they were waiting to see if we were going to get in trouble.
Of course there was no way we could pass up an opportunity like that. We had both an audience and a ready patsy for whatever we decided to do. We both put on a mean face and leaned past the guard's outstretched arms and growled at each other like a couple of dogs arguing over territory.
The guard said, "Stop that! You two behave before I take you down to the office and call your parents."
We eased off the aggressive display, but we both kept scowling and eyeing each other while we waited to see what the guard would do next. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Sue leaning on the boarded-up strorefront, about to laugh herself silly at our act.
The guard was glad that we seemed to be obeying her orders and she decided to try asserting her authority some more.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
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