Project Northwest Read Online Free PDF Page B

but failed miserably
under close inspection. He had purchased her a Cole tote for
Christmas and totally missed her sense of style.
    He now regretted ever buying the Cole and she
had mixed feelings about the Chloe knockoff. Sometimes she liked
the attention it garnered from the other girls. At other times, she
despised it. Imagine having feelings for a purse, she thought, it
went against who she felt she truly was: a modern day tree-hugger.
But her lifestyle was changing back then. She acted impulsively
and, in the big scheme of things, it was just a purse. James’s
point centered on the fact she spent $590 dollars for the knockoff
purse and he’d rather she not spend much at all or buy the real
thing—why buy a knockoff at that price? It didn’t make any sense to
him.
    She looked at the purse, then eyed James.
“Irony, huh? Bet you’re glad I bought it now.”
    He placed the purse on the trunk of the car.
“I’ll be glad when you’re back.”
    He pulled her close and whispered, “Write the
note to Cindy here, before you go into The Lounge, sign it with
something vague, something Cindy would know, but others, strangers,
wouldn’t. Grab the phone as quick as possible, also grab a work
schedule. Don’t stay. Don’t get me juice. Leave your cell phone
here. In and out, okay?”
    She dug into the purse, found a pen and
notepad, and set the purse on the trunk of the car. She curled the
note in her left hand, grabbed the purse, and gave James a quick
kiss. For the first time, James felt the purse situation was
forgiven. He swore to himself, if they made it out of this alive,
he would never buy a purse again.
    Moments later, she entered the backdoor to
The Lounge. Her co-workers were pleased to see her, but surprised
she was there to pick up a schedule. She could simply call, but
they were all in a rush to make money and didn’t linger on the
small details.
    She hurried to the locker room. It wasn’t
really a room, more like a closet that had nine small metal lockers
where the staff could store their items during shifts. There was a
small table littered with notes, flyers, and old magazines along
one wall. One wooden chair stolen from somewhere on The Lounge’s
floor was tucked under the table.
    * * * *
    James waited for a few minutes and watched
Bridget turn the corner and head toward The Lounge.
    Seattle blocks were like most large cities,
they were somewhere between square and rectangular and one could
calculate the driving time to circle a block. He waited twelve
minutes and didn’t see the Tahoe. James quickly jumped in the
passenger seat and started removing all of his clothing. He removed
his jacket, his shirt, his pants, and socks and stopped at his
underwear. After a few moments of contemplation, he decided to
remove them, as well.
    Even with the engine running and the heater
at its highest setting, the forty-degree weather chilled him to the
bone so he leaned into the backseat, grabbed a bed sheet from the
laundry basket, and wrapped it around himself. He was still cold,
but it would work. His plan, as crazy as it was, just might
work.
    * * * *
    Bridget searched for a few moments, and found
Cindy’s cell phone in an unlocked locker and replaced it with the
note. She closed the locker and, for some unknown reason, decided
to lock it with her own lock and key. The cell phone had just
settled into her purse when a drunk busted into the room, almost
knocking her over in the process.
    “Oh, I’mma sorry—I’mma looking for the men’s
rooms,” the drunk slurred and he smelt like a brewery.
    “It’s the other way, down the hall to your
left, go back the way you came.” She directed with her arm and
index finger.
    “Left? What?” stammered the drunk.
    Bridget pulled the work schedule from the
corkboard and said, “That way.” She pointed, as she pushed him out
of the locker room and exited.
    “Oh, okay, you aarre soooo pretty, what’s ya
name?”
    “Forget it, buddy, I have a man, and he knows
where