Executive

…29

A multi-tone electronic chime startled Alex, unfamiliar with her new home's doorbell.

"Oh, crap," she muttered softly, then continued in a louder voice, "Just a minute!"

She wasn't expecting anyone. The frantic day of moving had left her tired and excited, ready to step into the shower and then call it a day. Her new three-bedroom rental house was clean, functional, friendly, and accommodating, despite the fact that the property owner wasn't all that bright. The movers had come and gone, having little trouble relocating her few belongings. These seemed even fewer now, because of the larger space. They were scattered here and there, without a clear concept, in an attempt to furnish all rooms, no matter how minimally.

Grabbing her bathrobe, she headed for the door and looked through the peephole. No one was there, but she could hear the sound of a small truck pulling away. She cautiously opened the door and looked around; there was no one there. As she was about to close the door, her eyes caught the large flower basket on her doormat. She picked it up, took it inside, and set it on her kitchen table. Under the lush flower arrangement, made of at least three dozen roses, lay a bottle of Martini Dry Vermouth, and a simple, white card with the words "Congratulations on your new home" on one side, and "Tom and the gang" on the other. With a sigh of relief and a smile reflecting the warmth she felt in her heart, she grabbed the bottle and put it in the fridge.

For the flowers, the solution was not so simple. Alex didn't have a vase. With a quick glance at the recently hung electronic clock on the wall, she decided to go out and get a vase that was suitable for the nicest flowers she had ever been given.

Almost an hour later, in line at one of the check-out registers of the Mira Mesa Target store, she was pushing a flat-bed shopping cart, filled with so much more than the vase she had come for.

A new 53 inch LCD TV that happened to be on sale, catching her eye. A wireless 5.1 surround system to go with it, a Blu-Ray player, and a TV stand to accommodate all that. A couple Blu-Ray movies she loved. A set of tall, cocktail glasses made of Bohemian crystal, and a vase, of course.

Chatting casually with the cashier, she noticed a skinny, bony man with intense eyes, two registers down, checking out with a mega-size pack of Charmin toilet paper. He was looking at her, but when their eyes met, he looked away.

"Sorry, ma'am, it's declined," the cashier woke her up to reality, returning her Visa card. "Do you have another card you can use?"

"Oh." Alex smiled uncomfortably, unzipping her wallet. "Let's see." Many cards were in her wallet, most of them still maxed out. None of them had room for the splurge. With a bit of hesitation, she pulled The Agency's Gold MasterCard, with the still unknown spending limit. She'd have to explain the expense to Tom and pay him back on her payday. He'd understand.

"This one worked just fine, ma'am, here you go," the smiling cashier invited her to sign the receipt. "Will you need help loading all that in your car?"

"Yes, much appreciated," Alex said. Seconds later, she was on her way toward the parking lot, with a store associate in tow.

The man who had caught her attention was nowhere in sight. Oh, well, Alex thought, with so much toilet paper on his shopping list, I bet he's run home to his fifteen kids. Then, if that's the case, why was he checking me out?

The man Alex had seen in the store was behind the wheel of a gray Ford sedan, no toilet paper anywhere. He flipped open a cell phone, speed-dialed a number, and then said: "She checks out." A pause. "Yes, sir." Another pause. "She was even declined on her credit card, sir." A silent frown. "Yes, sir, I will stay on it."