Buffering...  again!

It seemed like every time she got to the best part of the show, the internet had other plans. Lana smacked the back of her laptop as if the force of her hand would somehow jolt the connectivity. That method hadn't worked the previous seventeen hundred times this had happened while streaming, but Lana needed to know the winner of The Great British Bake Off! She stared at Paul Hollywood's frozen face on her screen and sighed.

The best days were when business in the coffee shop underneath her apartment was slow. This allowed for full scenes to play out at once rather than a sentence or two at a time. On those days, she brought out the popcorn.

Yet on most other days, despite her subtle attempts to get the coffee shop owner to increase their guest wi-fi strength, Lana was used to pausing and doing other things while waiting for her favorite shows to load. Moochers can't be choosers after all, or whatever that saying is.

The bustle downstairs was her indication that today was a 'no signal' kind of day. Damn coffee addicts.

Lana dropped the envelope with PAST DUE plastered in red letters across the front on the table beside her. With her gaze fixed on her closet, she took about two steps from her kitchen to her bedroom, which also happened to be her dining room, living room, foyer, and any other space she could think up. The bathroom, though barely capable of fitting a hair dryer, was the exception with its own four walls. Presumably, the apartment developers were feeling generous on construction day a hundred years ago. 

Lana scanned her closet and one by one held up each item in front of her. She squinted and channeled some major Marie Kondo energy. "Does this outfit bring me joy?"

When her mental note said Yes, she'd fling it back into her closet. The un-joyful ones went straight into the Sell bag. After about a half hour, Lana picked up the Sell bag in one smooth motion and peered into it. These are the unlucky three.

It only took a moment of glancing at her phone and catching sight of the notification that popped up for her to change course. She let out a sigh of relief as she took in the recurring note-to-self: PAY DAYYYYYY GIRL!!!!!!!

Friday was payday. All would be well. She could carry on with life and maybe even go shopping on her day off. Her closet would be ridding itself of three items anyway. Better to replace the hairline spaces and maybe even find a new dress for her best friend Chloe's art show next week.

After throwing on some gray sweats, Lana walked out to her car, admiring LA's gorgeous summer breeze with a pep in her step. It was maybe a little too much confidence for someone who could easily be mistaken as homeless.

A glance at her phone for the traffic patterns to Goodwill preceded a quick disc change on her 'rustic' car's stereo. Rihanna's "Love On The Brain" surpassed the engine's hum as Lana drove through her busy neighborhood.

She often applauded herself for being so frugal and only shopping for clothes at a thrift shop. Chloe always wanted to go to the mall, but what was the fun in that? Lana would much rather sweat her way through the sea of clothes with every style imaginable at a great price.

Her senses heightened as soon as she pulled into the parking lot. There was no denying it. She loved to shop.

Her long, dark brown hair tossed side-to-side as she spent about an hour scanning through the clothes racks, swishing each hanger across the metal bar. She eyed one dress for stains with as much scrutiny as a jeweler looking through a loupe. When she couldn't find any, she flipped over the price tag.

$5. Not too shabby.

With the silky lavender dress held against herself, she posed in front of the warped mirror. This is it. It was decided. She would wear the dress to Chloe's art show. It was glamorous, just like Chloe, and no one would ever suspect that it was a steal of a deal.

After tossing the dress in her basket, she sauntered through kitchenware, tinkering with any new gadget that caught her eye. Then she moved on to home décor and wandered past some porcelain figures, admiring the cute details. Do I need these?

She almost reasoned yes to herself, when something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. A small, dark-red chest sat on a shelf next to her. The intricately decorated box had a distressed gold lining the edges, a color that felt so familiar. The front had a keyhole, but there was no key to accompany it. Above the keyhole was an odd symbol: a small gold imprint of two rings overlapping.

I've seen this symbol before...

She tried to open the box but had no luck, so she rummaged around the nearby shelves to find the key for it. Nothing.

After turning the box over, the price label stared back at her: Twenty dollars. Yeesh, that much for this piece of junk? No thanks!

Her stomach growled and grumbled at her for not eating lunch before she left home. She clutched it and set the box down back on the cluttered shelf.

With shopping-induced contentment, she finished up and left Goodwill. The bag that held her purchases for the day swayed in the process. She ended up with an amazing dress as well as one of those cute little porcelain figures she saw earlier. It was a swan for eight dollars that she just knew would look good on her nightstand. Successful day of shopping? Check.

***

"Did you find everything you need?" Lana asked an elderly male customer as he brought his cart to her register. The question was mostly rhetorical, but the man went into great detail about how he came in for one thing and found more than enough. He started raving about how he couldn't wait to try some of today's discoveries. In all honesty, most Trader Joe's customers liked to boast about the hidden treasures and gems of food they found at the store, so, the old man's response was nothing out of the ordinary.

"That's a nice long braid you got there," the elderly man said as he fumbled through his wallet for cash.

"Thank you. It keeps my unruly hair out of my face while I work."

"My grandchildren are always doing some sort of hair braiding. They started to teach me, and I think I'm just now getting the hang of it. I made two braids on the youngest one, Cicely, the other day."

Lana melted at the thought of this sweet old man braiding a young girl's hair. "Two braids is no easy feat. I'm impressed!" She gave the man her warmest smile, and he left with brown paper bags in hand.

It was moments like those that made Lana love her job. She loved getting to know little pieces of information about the customers as well as catching up with the regulars. The most common conversation revolved around food and recipes that people have tried or were going to try, which was Lana's favorite topic of conversation. While she didn't cook new things very much herself, she baked. A lot.      

A much younger man, closer to Lana's age, was glancing around for an open register. He had strongly defined facial features that some might say made him handsome. She squinted a little.  Okay, very handsome, but Lana always prided herself in keeping it cool. Especially at work. Lana's voice cracked as she yelled, "I'm open here!" and waved awkwardly to get his attention. The medium-built man strode over and set his basket down on the wood panel she pulled out for him.

"So, uh... did you find everything you need?" she asked as she started to scan the items from his basket. She looked up for a moment, and her dark brown eyes grew wide taking in the man in front of her. He looked tired. Dead tired. The dark, half-moon circles dusted under his eyes indicated he probably hadn't slept at all the night before. Or ever.

"No, thanks for asking, though," he replied, eyeing Lana. After a moment the curved lines in his cheeks began to show as he formed the semblance of a smile. Lana was amazed he was able to move the muscles in his face. She wondered how much extra sleep he needed just to make up for the work it took him to do that.

Lord knows if she didn't get a night of good sleep, all joy she had was typically replaced with deep sorrow. Chloe would often tell her to stay home because no one would put up with Lana the Sleepless Crank.

"Oh," Lana replied. She didn't expect him to say that. Most of her customers were aware of what Trader Joe's had to offer, and she was sure they were fully stocked on things that day because of the slow traffic. "What couldn't you find?"

"Hmm, let's see." He brought out his phone to check his list. "Ginger ale, Clorox wipes, and honey mustard."

Lana tried her best to be helpful. "We have ginger juice and some organic antibacterial sponges. Also, I think we have an orange-raspberry-flavored mustard." As soon as she said it, she couldn't help but laugh. "Okay, yeah sorry, I don't think that was very helpful. I will say, though, the orange-raspberry mustard is new, and I hear people think it's amazing even though I've never tried it."

The man's smile grew. "As much as I like the sound of fruit being mixed in with my mustard, I think I'll just pop by the other normal grocery store nearby to get it."

"What are you talking about? This is a normal grocery store!" Lana fired back playfully.

The man held his hands up in mock defeat. "Alright, alright, whatever you say, Lana," he said as he looked down at the nametag on her Hawaiian-themed shirt. Lana never realized before today that she liked the sound of her name.

There was a bit of a pause in conversation as she continued to scan his items through. She was almost done when he said, "Alright, fine. Where can I find this so-called amazing mustard?"

A half-laugh, half-snort came out as she pointed to the aisle. "Down there on your right toward the middle, bottom shelf."

He smiled and stepped in the direction she pointed to, returning about a minute later with the mustard in one hand. "They really wanted to showcase this one loud and proud, on the bottom shelf." Lana smirked and took the jar from his hand to scan it. "Also, forgot I needed this," he added, holding up the bottle of vodka that was in his other hand and setting it down beside her.

"Well, if you are at all unhappy with the mustard, you can totally come back and ask for a refund," Lana said as she placed it in a brown bag. "People will definitely think you're a weirdo for returning a three-dollar opened jar of mustard, but hey, we're here for our customers, through thick and thin."

The man chuckled, his tired eyes even more evident. "I'll know exactly who to blame it on if I do come back- a beautiful woman in a Hawaiian shirt."

Lana's stomach flipped; she smiled but instinctively deflected the compliment. "And Rosie, who is a beautiful, strong woman in a Hawaiian shirt will have no clue what you're talking about." She subtly pointed her head toward her friend Rosie scanning items at the register behind her.

The man smirked. "I think we both know I was talking about the beautiful woman right in front of me."

Lana grinned and caught any words in her throat. She hoped the fire in her cheeks didn't give away her swooning over his words. It'd been a long time since she flirted with someone, and she forgot just how fun it was. She grabbed the vodka and paused before scanning it. "I'll need to see some ID before I scan this one."

The man took out his ID and patiently waited while Lana inputted his date of birth on her keypad. She took mental notes of his age—29, three years older than me—and his name—Jack Hanscom, rhymes with handsome. "Here you go, Jack," she said as she handed him back his ID.

"Hope you have a nice rest of your day," Lana said after Jack paid for his groceries. "And I hope you find the right type of sandwich to go with that mustard; best of luck," she added playfully.

"I appreciate all of your help. Truly couldn't have done it without you." He looked up and gave one last smile, but this time the corner of his eyes creased too. Lana admired how the light glinted against his greenish-brown irises. He was gorgeous, even if he did have insomnia. She stared unabashedly at the back of his head as he exited the store.

As soon as he was out of sight, Rosie snapped her out of the daydream. "Daaaaamn, girl! He was into you! You should've given him your number!"

Lana laughed. "Yeah, maybe. He was cute but still a random stranger that might secretly be psycho with the bodies of his ex-lovers buried underneath his crawl space. Or he's one of those weird guys that collect toenails or something." She sighed. "Also, he didn't ask me for my number, so it just wasn't meant to be."

Rosie lifted her hands toward the entry sliding doors. "Okay, well, if he does come waltzing back in here and asks, you have to! That boy was cute!"

Lana couldn't stop smiling and in an easy defeat said, "Okay, okay, if I ever see him again, then sure, I will give him my number." Yet deep down she knew the chances of ever running into Jack Hanscom again were slim to none.

***

So excited that the first chapter is officially out! Tell me all your thoughts! Did we like it? If you think Jack is a flirt, hit the vote button. ☺️