Sam pulled up a list of secondhand stores on his phone. The nearest one was only four miles from the hospital and in the same direction as home. Their website showed the store was open until nine o’clock that night. Sam made the call. He couldn’t afford to waste time at a store that didn’t have what he needed. The night was going to be busy as it was. He listened as the phone rang.
“Hello, Second Life Resale, Emma speaking. How can I help you?”
Sam smiled as he listened. The store name was more than ironic. “Hello, I’m wondering if you have any armchairs for sale.”
“We do, but do they need to match?”
“Not at all.”
“Then yes, we have five armchairs in various conditions for sale. I’m afraid the upholstery is stained on all of them, though.”
“No worries, they sound perfect. I’m practicing the craft of reupholstering furniture. They’re probably exactly what I’m looking for. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.” Sam clicked off and followed the directions on his GPS.
He found parking along the curb several stores down from Second Life. He scanned the street for anything or anyone who looked suspicious before getting out of his van. The area was sketchy at best. He noticed that most buildings had barred doors and windows, and he was thankful that the occasional ambient store lights helped illuminate the sidewalk. He’d make this quick, buy the chairs, and get out of the area to places he was more familiar with. Even South Chicago looked more inviting than that neighborhood.
Sam exited the van and clicked the fob to lock the doors. The sun had already dipped beneath the horizon, and the early evening air had a definite bite to it. He pulled his hoodie over his head and tightened the drawstrings to keep the wind out. Then he zipped his jacket and walked quickly to the front door. Inside the store, he scanned the area for the large upholstered chairs. He hoped to find some that were sturdy, with high backs and wide arms. They had to meet his needs. Sam browsed the selections as he envisioned how he’d keep the women still while drawing their blood. Several chairs that could work caught his eye.
“Hi. Can I help you find something?”
Sam jumped. He didn’t realize someone had come up behind him.
She chuckled through the hand she had put to her mouth. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you—or laugh.”
Sam sized her up as he began the conversation. She could be a future prospect. “Yeah, no problem. I guess I zoned out for a minute. It’s that artistic thing. I was picturing the fabric I would cover these chairs with.”
“Are you the guy that called earlier about the armchairs?”
“Guilty. So, what do you have?”
She pointed. “Well, there’s the two that you were fawning over”—she grinned—“and three more back here.” She led the way to the rear of the store as Sam followed.
He imagined how the chairs would function as he gave them the once-over. “Ah, yes, these are nice too. I’m looking for the heaviest chairs with wide arms.”
“Sure, and the condition and fabric don’t matter, right?”
Sam gave her a long smile. “Not at all.”
She tipped each chair back to feel the weight then patted the one on the left. “I’d say this one is the heaviest of the three here”—she walked back to the first two—“and this one is the heaviest of these.”
“Yeah, and the arms are wide enough.”
“Wide enough for what?”
“For comfort. I’ll take those two.”
“Okay, I’ll get Jerry from the back and have him give you a hand loading them. Where is your vehicle parked?”
“Out front a few buildings down.”
“Sure, but pulling around the back to our loading dock will work better. The front door isn’t particularly wide.”
Sam nodded and left. Ten minutes later, with the chairs secured in the van, he went back inside and paid thirty-seven dollars for the two of them. The clerk passed the receipt across the counter, and Sam shoved it into his jacket pocket.
“Thanks. It was nice doing business with you, and I hope you enjoy the chairs.”
He looked over his shoulder as he left. “I’m sure we’ll see each other again.”
The buzzer sounded as Sam pushed through the rear service door and exited Second Life. His mind was a flurry of thoughts as he climbed into the van, turned the key, and pulled out of the alley.
Now to get home, secure the chairs against the wall, make dinner, draw blood from Molly, then leave to prowl for women. Thank God I’m not scheduled to work tomorrow.
He had plenty to do and still no idea who he’d sell the blood to.