Title: Just Wondering (29/?)
A/N: Don’t ask. Well, okay, “20 Questions” inspired part of it, and of course conversations with Rob were involved. As for the rest, I am simply bizarre. Oooh, and points to whoever guesses right what’s in the sandwich. And yes, I am fully aware that LJ has gone into surfer-chick mode. Do I look like I care?
Disclaimer/Legalese: I own no one. The music store doesn’t exist. Everyone belongs to themselves, their families, their friends, any significant others they might have, and their respective countries. Lauren Jackson is further property of the Seattle Storm, and Tammy Sutton-Brown is further property of the Charlotte Sting. If you’re connected to the WNBA, please don’t sue me; this has been done with tongue firmly planted in cheek and without any malicious, slanderous, or libelous intent whatsoever.
Summary: A shopping trip leads to surprises.

The tall black woman seemed surprised that no one in the dark music store was surprised by her. If the full truth were to be told, she was also a bit disappointed; there were few women her height, and she knew most of them. Mentally, she shrugged and waited for her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. Once they had, she could spot the counter pushed against one wall, and she made her way over there.

The first things she saw were feet, specifically two unusually large ones planted on the glass surface of the counter. Looking up, they seemed to belong to a long set of legs, pale hands, and an American soap opera magazine. “Excuse me?” the black woman asked politely.

The reader made some sort of non-verbal noise in response. The would-be customer pushed, noticing something other people might not have. “Do you talk?”

“Sometimes.” This time there was no mistaking the Australian twang in the counterperson’s voice. It also became obvious that the person was also female.

“Would you mind giving me some help here?”

“I bloody well would, I’m on lunch break, and I’m trying to read.” The magazine came down, revealing the face of Lauren Jackson- more or less. She seemed to have acquired some new piercings, along with Goth makeup and black streaks in her reddish-brown hair.

The black woman was taken aback by this. “Good God, Lauren, what did you do to yourself? You look like death warmed over and stuck to a magnet for amusement value.”

“Thanks, Tammy,” Lauren remarked with as much sarcasm as she could put into her voice. “Nice to see you’re all right too. You look like you’ve never seen a girl with makeup before.”

“Most people don’t like to look half-dead when they do their face. You might consider cutting down on the powder.”

Lauren crossed her arms and let out a long breath, forcing herself to remain calm and not to throw the nearest heavy object at Tammy. “You came here to do something other than bother me, I should hope, eh?” The Australian girl’s eyes glittered unpleasantly.

Tammy Sutton-Brown took the jibe in stride. “I’ve got better things to do than bother a big child like you. I just need sheet music and then we won’t have to deal with each other anymore.”

Dismissively, Lauren waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the left rear corner of the store, then picked up the magazine and went back to ignoring the rest of the world. Tammy looked through the racks, whistling quietly at the prices. “You people overcharge obscenely.”

“No law says you have to buy anything here, Tammy,” Lauren snapped.

“Then I don’t think I shall.” With that, Tammy turned on her heel and left. Lauren thought for a moment, shrugged, and took a bite of her sandwich.