Zach
The Chinatown streets were bustling as usual. Like herd animals, Chinese immigrants and more marched through the streets, going in and out of the endless lines of stores, salons, and restaurants. Sometimes, in both English and Chinese, they would greet each other, curse each other, have screaming matches, flirt with one another, and make small talk. None of it was out-of-place for Chinatown, but that didn’t mean that Zach could let his guard down. In a sea of Asian faces, he was a drop of white. Sandy hair slicked over and parted at the side atop a pale face and blue eyes, he could easily be picked out in the crowd.
Normally, that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it meant he had to be careful not to make any enemies or garner unwanted attention. Still, he paid little attention to the people around him as his eyes scanned the street. He’d walked it a hundred times, so even with the sun rapidly descending he knew most every shop on the block. The only he didn’t know was which shop seemed to be unattended. How was he going to bring home the bacon today?
An alcoholic mother, absent father, and a criminal record for some juvenile mischief (who knew that trying to bomb that awful-smelling port-a-potty was considered anything other than community service?) left the family destitute and him unable to work. Seeing as how the recidivism is already so high from overzealous prosecutors ruining lives, he figured he had nothing to lose by contributing to those statistics and doing what he needed to do to stay alive. Chinatown was the perfect place to look for high-end, high-demand items to steal and resell. Most of the junk on these streets was illegal to begin with, so most shop owners don’t lift a finger when something mysteriously goes missing. He only had to watch out for the ones who had goons to sic on him, but they were thankfully rare. Still, you couldn’t be too careful.
He neared the end of the street and felt his shoulders fall. Tomorrow could be another day without food, for all the shops were either heavily occupied by shoppers (and potential snitches) or were being dutifully manned by their shopkeepers. Just as he was about to turn around, he spotted something from the corner of his eye. It was a new shop!
Jing Pei’s Rare and Exotic Ointments the sign read in both English and Chinese. “He must be going for the widest market available,” Zach thought. Moving off to the side, he took the scene in carefully. New shops were usually very popular, and the owner would be on high alert, especially during the grand opening, but this shop almost blended into the surrounding dilapidated buildings perfectly. It’s sign promised rare and exotic goods, yet it was small with no fanfare. The shop’s entrance wasn’t even accessible from the street; Zach could see that to enter, one would have to turn down a little alley to enter.
Zach slipped into the alley, moving past the unassuming entrance and searching for another door. These types of stores often had another entrance, usually leading directly to the storeroom and also serving as a convenient escape route in case any cops came by. He’d never sold ointments before, but Zach figured it wouldn’t be too difficult to find buyers if only he could get the goods out.
Sure enough, near some dumpsters was the other door he was looking for. It was wooden, coated with chipped paint, and probably locked. It wasn’t the lock that was keep Zach out, as he carried a ring of bump keys in his pocket, but the fear of being caught. A man who was dealing in these kinds of goods and obviously trying to keep a low profile could easily be some kind of Chinese mobster.
Ducking behind the dumpsters, Zach’s eyes were glued to the entrance door. For fifteen minutes, not a soul entered the shop; but, at last, an elderly Chinese man slowly shuffled out of it. No bodyguards to be seen, he slowly locked the door, scanned the inside one last time to make sure all the lights were out, and hastened into the streets, now lit only by the streetlights and the cell phones that the dwindling crowd carried with them.
He waited but a few minutes more, just to be certain, before casually strolling to the old door. Inserting a bump key into the lock, he gave it a good tap and turn, forcing the lock open without a single scrap of evidence that it had been tampered with. “As easy as taking candy from a baby!”he thought.
He crept in, his eyes scanning one last time for any goons that might be hanging out, waiting for thieves to come steal their precious ointments, before daring to close the door behind him. His smart phone provided him with a flashlight, but he soon could see that there was another solid door that led to the store proper and no actual windows in the storeroom itself, allowing him to risk turning on the lights.
The walls were lined with crates and boxes - perfectly ordinary. He quickly got to business, scanning the boxes and looking for name brands. He didn’t really know any ointment brands, mostly dealing in jewelry and electronics, but he knew this was hardly normal. “Jing Pei’s Christmas” one read. “Jing Pei’s Barnyard Scents”read another. Jing Pei was probably the brand, perhaps the name of the old man himself.
“Is he mixing his own perfumes?”Zach wondered aloud. Many of the scents didn’t sound appealing at all. Exotic, but hardly fashionable and appealing - more like novelty scents than anything else.
The boxes continued to perplex him: Aquatic Paradise, Forest Glade, Deer Musk, Moonlight Frenzy, Lion Pride. One box was simply labeled, “The Greek Mythology Collection.” His eyes finally rested on a box of various samples. Not wanting to risk opening any boxes to test the ointments himself, he decided to grab the sample box and leave as quickly and inconspicuously as possible. With some duct tape, he covered all lettering and lifted the heavy stash, hearing the poorly packed samples clank together inside.
Within moments, he was on the street. He pulled out his phone and placed it to his ear. “You left your door locked,” he began his fake phone call, “so I’m taking the stuff home and will bring it by tomorrow.”
Having thrown off any suspicions, he walked to his bike and headed home.
It was nearing 10:30 PM when he finally made it back. The front door was unlock, mother on the couch, sleeping off a night at the bar, obviously. She hadn’t even bothered to change into a nightgown, let alone make it all the way to her bedroom. For brief instance, Zach wondered if maybe she stayed up because she was worried about him being out so late, but those hopes were dashed when the stench of cheap beer flooded his nostrils as he crept past.
“If anyone could use this crap, it’s her,” he thought with a smile.
Tired and exhausted, he went upstairs and flopped down the little twin-sized bed he’d called his own since early childhood. Most of his toys, however, he’d packed into tote bins. His room was now little more than a collection of boxes against deep blue walls, filled to the brim with things he hoped to sell. For some reason, he’d always been afraid to actually label the contents on the boxes, which made it all the more difficult to organize and sell his loot, but a little inconvenience for some peace of mind suited him just fine. There were motherboards, diamond rings, gold rings, copper wire, rare baseball cards, hard drives, monitors, laptops, tablets, and much more, even if it wasn’t obvious where in his room they were hiding.
He at last dared to open the box and see what kinds of ointments he’d gotten. The tape was a lot tighter than most manufacturers, but the cardboard flaps finally popped open and revealed a mess of glass bottles packed hastily with little foam cubes. How they hadn’t broken baffled him, but he was thankful that Divine Providence seemed to have gifted him with something that, even if they weren’t as high-end as he’d suspected, would at least make him a quick buck at school.
He shuffled through, his exhausted brain taking quick inventory of his haul: Aquatic Paradise, Barnyard Pig, Greek Pastures, Glacier Waters, Forest Glade, Barnyard Milk, Lovely Lamb, Swan Lake, Feminine Wiles, Masculine Musk, and many, many more. His curiosity piqued, his opened one of the many Barnyard-themed scents and gave it a quick sniff. It certainly wasn’t too pleasant, but someone might get a kick out of it. Even better, it would be fast money, unlike other things he’d hauled home.
He’d already paid his phone bill, but the electricity bill was due soon. He doubted his mom’s newest job would last any longer than the other ones she’d worked, and it’s not like she saved much money to pay for necessities to begin with. Even if he couldn’t get money for the next bill, he could at least buy some supper.
He shoved the box under his bed and, dead tired, turned out the lights, his grumbling belly singing its usual lullaby as he drifted into sleep.