"I dunno. I haven't really seen it in years."

"There's nothing other than crappy reality shows these days," Mike told him. "Even worse are the reality game shows, where they do things like have ten women each pick an envelope that could have anywhere from zero to a million dollars in it. Then they all date the same guy, and if the guy rejects them, they're out of the game. No love, no money, nothing. If the guy falls in love with one, then that girl has to pick between the love of this man or the envelope." He shook his head and tossed another book onto the cart. "Lame."

Dempster replaced The Moviegoer on the shelf. "Guess I haven't missed much in that area," he said.

"You haven't."

"Say, Mike, I wanna ask you something and it's gonna sound stupid."

"Won't be the first time."

"That's true." He reached for a Chuck Palahniuk book then stopped and let his hand drop. "There was a girl working over in the video section last night. Real cute redhead."

Mike scanned another book, put it back on the shelf. He nodded slowly as he reached for yet another. "That would be Carly," he said.

Carly. He liked the name.

"What's her story?"

"I don't know."

"What'd you mean you don't know? You work with her, don't you?"

"Lots of people work here, Demp, and just about everyone hates working here. As a result, we all associate with each other as little as possible."

"That seems weird."

"Yeah, maybe, but that's how it is."

"So you don't know anything about her?"

"I know her name is Carly. Carly Whittaker." He shrugged. "She seems pretty cool." He threw another book onto the cart and looked up at him. "She's a bit younger than you."

"She can't be that much younger than me."

"Don't forget, you did age while you were locked up."

The statement struck a painful chord inside him. He realized he had no choice but to brush it off.

"So that's all you can tell me about her."

"Unfortunately, yeah, I don't have anything else to offer on the subject." He scanned another book. "Sorry."

Suddenly Dempster's mind clouded with guilt for pushing Mike unfairly.

"All right, cool," he said. "Whatever. You get your lunch any time soon?"

"In another twenty or thirty minutes, yeah. Where you wanna go?"

"So far I've eaten at the pizza place and that's it. We could go there again, or you could pick something else. Doesn't matter to me."

"Okay, well, I've still got a little while here. I'll think about it."

For the next fifteen minutes Dempster browsed around the store. He read the backs of a dozen books, found a couple that interested him, but decided not to buy them. He sampled CDs at a listening station and discovered that he didn't like contemporary pop music with the exceptions of Liz Phair and the Hollis Wake. He studied the movie rentals. Some looked good and some looked bad. Some looked abysmal.

He was reading the back of a video box when his arm bumped the shelf and knocked several movies to the floor. He crouched down to pick them up, and as he gathered them into his arm a pair of feet entered his vision.

He looked up, then stiffened, staring at the red hair and blue eyes of Carly Whittaker.

They were quiet for some moments, ogling one another, each trying to read the other's mind. Up close she was even prettier, and though he felt that it was high time he looked away, he found it impossible.

"I saw you in here yesterday," she said.

"Could be," he told her, "given that I was in here yesterday."

Once again he tried looking away. But her eyes were like magnets that pulled his eyes to hers. He watched her place a hand on her hip, and shift her weight to one leg. She was wearing jeans today, and a white blouse, which made the redness of her hair stand out like flames on a snow hill.

"Well?" she said.

Dempster looked deeper into her eyes. She was daring him. "Well what?"

"You gonna put those movies back on the shelf?"

He felt the videos in his hands. He'd forgotten he was holding them, and suddenly they were very heavy. He managed to break eye contact, turn, and put them back on the shelf.

He wasn't sure what his thoughts were, but he didn't want to look at her again. He was afraid that if he turned back and looked into those blue eyes, he would never see anything else as long as he lived.

"You okay?"

"Sure."

"You seem nervous," she said. "Am I scaring you?"

"I don't scare easily." He knew that much was true.

He could smell her, feel her electricity. Only now did he realize that she wasn't wearing her green apron. He told himself not to, but looked back into her eyes. And cursed himself.

"It just seems," she said, "that your I.Q. has suddenly dropped to doorknob status."

"Thing is." His voice was tight, though he did manage a grin. "I like redheads too much." There was nothing complimentary in the way he said it.

She smiled as sparks came into her eyes. "In what way?"

Before he could come up with the proper phrasing, his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, looked at the Caller I.D., and saw that the number was Charlie's cell. Connecting, he said, "Charlie, hang on a second." Then to Carly Whittaker, "See ya."

She smiled, then turned on her heel and vanished.

He brought the phone to his ear and asked Charlie what was up.

"We're in Dallas," Charlie said. "The flight out of here doesn't leave for another hour." He cleared his throat. "We're suddenly having a bit of an issue. Freddy hasn't completely explained it to me but it looks like our fence man in Albuquerque is no longer our fence man."

"What?"

"Guess Freddy got some dirt on him and gave him the boot."

"That's not good," Dempster said.

"I know, it's a bit unsettling but don't worry about it. Not like it's never happened before." Charlie paused and cleared his throat again. "He just lined someone up in Corrales. Guy by the name of Frazier. Here, wait, I'll give you the new information."

"Call me with that when you get to Albuquerque, if you don't mind," Dempster told him. "I'm out and about right now."

"Yeah, sure thing."

"This Frazier guya"you know anything about him?"

"Not really. Freddy's apparently worked with him before, says he's a good guy, can move the stuff real fast. Said he'd almost wished he'd gone with him in the first place."

"Wonder why he didn't."

"I'll call you when we get to Albuquerque."

"All right."

They disconnected. Dempster looked to where Carly had been standing. She wasn't there but he could still see her, even when he closed his eyes. She had branded herself onto his brain, and that annoyed him. With everything else going on, the last thing he needed was to have some girl thrown into the mix.

Suddenly Mike's voice came over the store's loudspeaker. "Jack Dempster, please come to the book information desk. Your party is waiting with a message for you."

He didn't like being beckoned over the P.A. like that. The second he started walking over he saw people looking at him. Now they knew who he was. They were saying to themselves, "That's Jack Dempster."

Mike was at the computer, typing away. "Hey, Jerky, I'm sorry. Turns out Philip just went to lunch, so I'm actually stuck here another hour. I dunno if you wanna come back or not, but I don't imagine that you want to spend another hour here."

Dempster had no idea who Philip was. "That's cool," he said. "I've got some other stuff to do. How about we play it by ear. If I can, I'll stop back by, and if things work out, they work out."

"All right. Again, I'm sorry."

"Nothing to be sorry about."

"Hey, how about dinner tonight? You still haven't seen Angela."

"What are you thinking?"

"I dunno, we could make something at home." He quickly raised his hand. "Don't worry, I know how you area"nothing too formal. You know that's not our style. Hell, we could even order a pizza or something like that, if you like. Or we could go out."

Dempster thought on it a moment, then said, "Yeah, all right. That sounds good. I don't have anything going on."

Mike wrote down directions to the house. Dempster glanced at them, and then stuck the paper into his pocket and asked, "What time you want me there?"

"When is good for you?"

"Whenever."

"How about eight?"

"Eight it is."

They said goodbye, and Dempster walked through the store, thinking and wonderinga"worryinga"about the change in fence men, but finding his eyes searching for the intriguing redhead who apparently frightened him. When he didn't find her, figuring it to be a good thing, he made his exit, and met his car halfway across the parking lot. It was nice and sunny out. He fished into his pocket for his keys, and as he did, he heard the two-tap honk of a car horn. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a red Toyota Tercel stopped directly behind him, blocking in his Honda. Behind the wheel, staring at him with those magnetic eyes, was Carly Whittaker.

"Where are you going?"

Dempster looked at her. The odd stir of excitement he felt inside angered him. He wanted nothing to do with her, yet here he was taking a step toward the Tercel. "I'm busy," he said.

"Busy hanging out at Essentials every day?"

This angered him more, but still he took another step. He didn't want to, he cursed himself for doing it, but it was as though he had no control of himself.

"I'm fed up with this neighborhood," she said. Her tone was casual. "I'm fed up with this whole town. Nothing to do, always hanging around, waiting for something to happen. And nothing ever happens." She looked at him. "I'm dying for something to happen."

"So, go do something about it," he told her.

"Well, I can't do it alone."

"That's your problem."

"Don't you wanna give me a hand?"

"In what way?"

"In having a good time. Having some fun. Finding something to do that doesn't involve so much damn waiting."

"Sorry," he said, "I think you're on your own." Yet, still, even as he said it, he took another step forward.

"You wanna hop in?" she asked.

"Not especially."

"Sure you do." She reached across and opened the passenger door.

"Let's go get some lunch." When Dempster didn't budge, she told him, "It's just lunch. You have to eat sometime."

Staring at her, he let his eyes ask many questions, though he sadly found that these questions were mostly directed at himself. Before he knew what he was doing, he was climbing into the Tercel and closing the door.

She pulled away, looped through the parking lot, and they left De Vargas Mall.

After a minute she said, "You still have no name."

"I have a name, just haven't given it to you."

She smiled, gave him a sidelong glance. "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."