Secret Shopper (6 page)

I wiped the hair that came loose from my ponytail out of my face and quickly put on my sunglasses. I rolled down the lightly tinted window a few inches and brought my lips to the opening space between us.

“What?” I asked, trying not to sound too mean, but failing.

“You forgot your chips and drink, ma’am.” Thomas was now eye to eye with me. I didn’t remember ordering a meal. Thomas’s eyes darted around the interior of my vehicle and his glance grazed lightly over my cleavage. Caught. Men will be men. Rachel once caught a deacon staring at her boobs. I wasn’t flattered at all by such behavior.

In the tenth grade, I kicked Jose’s
jewels
in P.E. class because he sneered and made a vulgar comment as I crouched opposite him during volleyball. This was before I knew what a sports bra was, satisfied with my undersized, ill-fitting K-mart two for ten dollar cotton bra. It was the first time I was sent to the principal’s office. Luckily Mrs. Flores, the discipline principal was a big-breasted woman herself. She heard me out and let me off with a warning and advice on proper boulder holders.

Modesty overwhelmed me and as I pulled my jacket to my chin, Thomas’s prying eyes landed on the
Guam flag dangling from my rearview mirror. He smiled widely and his eyes did that thing that tickled my tummy. His iridescent eyes looked like horizontal crescent moons and his face took on an anime effect. When he smiled so brightly his eyes almost closed completely, which made him look younger in a flash. His long lashes made me jealous. His lips were a bit pink and glossy from when he licked them.
Yes, I watched.
They were pretty plump for a man, I thought. His teeth were immaculate, perfectly straight and white. My insides flip flopped again when his warm minty breath invaded my car. Maybe I was just light-headed from being really hungry.

“Are you from
Guam, Sirena?” Thomas asked excitedly, pointing to the evidence.

“No. My husband is.” I stated rather bluntly. I felt trapped and I didn’t want to blow my cover. Although I was dying to know how he had any knowledge of
Guam, I had to leave for more reasons than one.

              “Oh.” He sounded disappointed. Thomas looked over my face again, probably wondering what was lying beneath my huge sunglasses. “Well, you can come back to get your drink and chips, or I can bring it out to you if you tell me what you want.”

             
Tamara rounded the corner now and headed in our direction.

             
“Tom-Tom! People are waiting. Come on.” I was thankful that she went back to the shop. I smiled at the sound of a big sister calling her little brother by his pet name. I dropped my smile as soon as Tom-Tom returned his gaze to me.

             
“Well, ma’am?” I wished he would stop calling me “ma’am”—did I look that old? I shifted into drive. I would make things worse if I requested the additional food.

             
“I’m fine. I’m on a diet. Thanks.” And, then I drove off. Thomas stood there and watched my retreating car. I finally released my breath when I saw him turn around and walk back to the shop. I was able to make out that he wore a pair of plaid Chuck Taylor Converse shoes and I smiled liking his style.

Once I was a safe distance away from the shop I headed back onto the base. I made a quick decision to go to the military exchange. There was something I had been meaning to do since the hatchet came down on my marriage.

I picked out a box of blond hair dye. I flashed my military dependent card and paid with cash. My Blackberry chimed indicating that I had a text. It was Bradley.

be back in town by nxt wknd. Can you pick me up?

A dull pain started in my chest and then I realized I was gulping for air. If I texted back right away, would he think I was desperate? I decided to wait to respond and drove home on auto pilot. This was my husband, but because of the predicament he put me in, I didn’t know how to act. I hated not being in control of my feelings. I gripped my steering wheel tighter and drove a little faster. My Weezer CD blared in the background like the soundtrack of my day. I sang along with all my might, my voice wrought with all the dramatic flair I could conjure.
 

Once I hit the 54 West, I thought about our condo. It was still filled with Bradley’s things. He made no immediate plans to move. Before boot camp, we talked about moving up north together closer to
Sacramento, to be near the Army base.

He gave me a list of things to do while he was at AI training. For the first time, as I thought about this, I was angry. I thought,
how dare he put me on notice and still expect me to take care of his crap
. Was I going to start his car up every other day anymore? Did I have to continue paying the bills? That was Bradley’s duty up until he decided to leave me. The condo was too large for me. I toyed with the idea of moving out. I really only needed a small one bedroom unit. This was the first time I allowed myself to really think about being solo.

The last time I was a single woman, I was a sophomore just getting to love music by Dave Matthews and Sarah McLachlan. I was interested in reading the classics. I stocked my closets with the rebellious fashions of the day. One constant was my obsession with Hello Kitty. Basically, I was still a kid finding her way in life; I wasn’t a woman at all.

Thinking about being single was both scary and a relief. My anger fueled this thought process. I had a right to be angry right? Was I in the wrong? No. I finally saw my situation in a new light. The sadness in me was turning into rage. The blues were turning red. Maybe Rachel was rubbing off on me. Maybe Chief Culver and Bag It Thomas rattled my feminine wiles. Whatever they did, something was definitely awakened in me.

Chapter 4

My Fairy Spa Mother

I pulled up to my condo and there was a bright orange taxi blocking the path to my door. Mysterious spy music played in my head, as usual. I parked and peered into my rearview mirror. I couldn’t see the passenger and my heart fluttered, putting me on guard. I opened my car door slowly. For a moment, I imagined that Thomas might have followed me home with my bag of chips and drink. That seemed so illogical the thought fizzled in my cup before I could take a sip.

A woman. She had wild pixie hair and large dark sunglasses. I walked behind the car, keeping my most intense stare on the passenger. I reached my door and fumbled with my keys. My nerves were pretty rattled for a laidback Sunday, first from Thomas almost making me as an evaluator and next by Bradley’s text. The old me pleaded that I text him back, but this new fiery me screamed,
Screw that, let him wait!

I opened my door finally, when a familiar voice called to me from the taxi.

“
Hafa adai
, sexy biatch!” I recognized my best friend’s voice at once, greeting me in our language. Was I dreaming? I looked into the taxi. It would be like Rachel to hold the taxi guy there until I showed.

“Rachel? What the hell? What are you doing here?! And, what happened to your long hair?” I raced to the other side of the taxi as she made a dramatic exit. I half expected to see flames shoot out or doves racing for the sky from behind her. The driver made a sour face and started his car. She threw the poor man a hundred dollar bill and told him to keep the c
hange. The airport was only ten minutes north, so I knew her tip was rather indulgent. It must have been Rachel’s way of apologizing for the fact that this poor guy had to witness estrogen-drama at all.

Rachel wrapped me tight in her arms, “I missed you. My hair is just hair, it’ll grow back. I was bored.” With sweetness in her eyes, Rachel held me at arms length. She cranked back her little fist, then punched me swiftly on my arm.
Ouch.
“What the hell, Nix!? I thought you electrocuted yourself in your tub or jumped off Coronado Bridge. I almost came two weeks ago if it wasn’t for updates from your dad! When you didn’t answer your phone or respond to my emails the other day, that’s when I freaked out and hopped on a plane, make that three planes, to get here.” I gave Rachel strict instructions to keep my separation private.

“Sorry.” I rubbed my arm and smiled at my best friend.

Rachel looked ragged from the long flight over, but still beautiful. Her new pixie hair was stunning. How could she possibly get more gorgeous? She gave me a once over and did it again for good measure, holding my hands the whole time. Rachel walked around me. She smacked my butt playfully.

“Are you
that
depressed? You look hotter than your wedding day! And your ass, it’s so, so firm!”

“We haven’t been in each other’s presence for three minutes and you’re already touching my
dagan
.” I teased.

“I missed you! How long has Bradley been gone? I bet he hasn’t seen you
this
hot. He’s going to bust a nut!” I’m sure she meant to compliment me, but bringing up Bradley let alone my wedding day, was not the right thing to do. I started crying, wailing actually.
Okay, banshee shrieking if you must know.
Rachel walked me to the door like I was a lost puppy. She plopped me on my couch and ran outside to get our stuff.

I composed myself quickly, I didn’t need to drag my bestie into my pit of sadness. Rachel held the
box of dye with a questioning look. When I told her of the dual purpose of the drastic change—one to make going back to Bag It easier and two because Bradley liked blondes apparently, Rachel agreed to help. She did not agree with the reasons, but came up with a new one, a better one. She wanted me to have a fresh start.

In college, Rachel went blonde and wanted me to try it too. She wanted to run a social experiment for her psychology paper, “Guam Blondes and the Affect on Chamorro Men.” I had avoided her for a week. I hoped she just didn’t want payback for forcing her to choose another research paper topic.

Rachel searched local spas that were by chance open on a Sunday and by a miracle accepting appointments. I cooked up a hot batch of
kimchee
fried rice, knowing Rachel loved my mom’s recipes. I had the
Rock Lobster
sandwich sitting on the counter. It called to me. My mind wandered deeper into my morning encounter with Thomas. I marveled at the thought that what sat in that very bag was created by his lovely hands. Once I completed Rachel’s lunch, my curiosity and my awakening appetite got the better of me.

As Rachel sat in front of the steaming bowl of spi
cy carbs, she inhaled the vapor like it was an elixir for jetlag. I told her to save the spa day for when she was feeling normal, but Rachel is an
I’ll sleep when I die
person. This was why my best friend was so successful.

We had an hour before the Diva Spa could take us. She included time for me to get my hair dyed professionally. I guess it was a good thing that there was a pre-season Chargers event today. Everyone was either at the stadium or glued to their flat screens.

Rachel ate her bowl of rice slowly, savoring each morsel. I wondered if my rendition of
kimchee
fried rice was as good as my mom’s; probably not, but Rachel’s vulgar moaning each time she shoveled a mouthful suggested otherwise.

I ceremoniously pulled the wrapped sub from the plain brown paper bag. I removed the blue plastic tipped toothpick that pierced the wax paper. As I opened each corner of the crisp wrapper, the smell of lobster and celery and creamy mayonnaise invaded my nose. I hadn’t had mayo for months now and my mouth watered. Angels may as well be singing in the background as the lobster sub was finally revealed. My eyes flickered to Rachel, making sure she was actually with me and not just a figment of my imagination. Her mouth was opened and her spoon suspended over her jade green bowl. I guess she watched my sandwich strip tease. She smiled widely, rice still in her mouth and laughed. I realized how silly I must have looked, and laughed too. The delirious raucous we created permeated through my condo and for a moment I felt normal. Rachel’s presence was like extra strength Tylenol.

I explained the details of my new job and my target, Thomas. My stomach rumbled and Thomas’s sandwich was begging to be eaten. Rachel’s eyes glazed over a few times. I told her to nap on the recliner in the office. She needed to be upright with her belly full of food. I didn’t want her to have indigestion, a residual lesson from my Korean mother.

“No way am I going to nap. I only have five days with you and I’m going to make the most of it. We’ll eat, go to the spa early and take a walk before the appointment. I’ll get a sextuple shot at Starbucks. Can you believe we still don’t have a Starbucks on
Guam?” Rachel declared. “I want to get up to speed on
Brad-lame
.”

Rachel was right. With how tired she was, if she even blinked too long, I wouldn’t see her until lunch the next day. On the way to the spa, Rachel heard my gripes about Bradley and Jem. When my conversation strayed to Thomas, she waved her hand like she was shooing a fly. “You’re just having rebound feelings.” Rachel, my life coach was right as usual. In between conversation time, Rachel and I sang along to Pink songs, growing more aggressive with each mile.