by S. E. Akers
Well, I’d say she’s happy…and cooler.
“Look at Queen Elsa go,” Katie laughed. “Hey, maybe she’ll ice over the park for us?”
I stood there proudly watching until her tiny mocha silhouette disappeared behind a cluster of flowering shrubs and shady oaks. Katie turned to me and sharpened her stare critically. “And that’s why I’m never having kids!”
We left the park shortly after, licking ice cream right down to our fingertips, and then puttered off to our next stop — her big surprise. I should’ve known not to say anything about it until we’d arrived because my impatient BFF wouldn’t stop badgering me about where my tires were coming to a stop. The firm lock I’d placed on my lips only made it worse, sending her straight into a non-stop guessing fit. I may have a tight-fisted hold when it came to secrets, but I tended to cave on surprises. So I was thrilled I didn’t have to keep this one under wraps for too long.
I purposely pulled into the parking lot of a McDonald’s that sat beside our real destination, straight-faced to boot.
Her smile wilted like a parched daisy. “Please tell me my surprise isn’t a combo meal?” Katie asked. “Served by a clown?”
“You look disappointed,” I said and then pointed over to the Ronald McDonald statue beside the door. “Maybe we can get him to paint you on a smile?”
Katie’s eyes shot into a testy roll and then slumped in her seat. “Not possible.”
I couldn’t take that sad pucker of hers a second longer. “Look to your right,” I instructed. “Next door.”
My bosom friend stared out the window, pressing her hands against the glass. She whipped back around, too stunned to form a single word.
I shrugged my shoulders. “Didn’t you tell me every time we passed a Fiat on our drive up to Boston how cute you thought they were?”
With all of her doubts put to rest, my bosom friend slammed her feet against the floorboard. “No way!”
“Yes,” I grinned.
“Tanner is getting me a CAR?!?” she squealed.
“No — I am,” I quickly clarified. I’d never seen Katie so speechless in my life. I snapped my fingers. “Katie-Kate?” That was all it took for her to spring out of her seat and into one helluva BFF-hug. But she still didn’t top Abby’s.
“I can’t believe you’re going to do this! Even for me!” Katie gushed.
Even for me? That sounded a little strange. She’d been my bosom friend forever. Seriously, we’d been at the hip since Elementary school, and lest she forget, two inches above my boobs for five of those months.
“Katie, you’re like my sister — only better,” I added, keeping my biological one in mind. “I love you.”
Katie squeezed me tighter. “I love you too, Shi . . . even more with everything we’ve been through together.”
“Truth be told,” I began, “it’s also to make up for not getting to spend more time with you this summer.”
“Awww. That’s something else I love . . . your guilt!” she beamed and squeezed me tighter. “I just can’t believe you would shelve your principles for me like this.”
I pulled out of our hug. “What am I shelving?”
“You know,” Katie shrugged. “Your feelings about compulsion. You wouldn’t use it to forgive Charlotte’s debts, but you’re—”
“I’m not doing THAT,” I interrupted, laughing.
“Well, if you’re not going to mentally manipulate this transaction, exactly how are you plannin’ on swingin’ it?” Her amber eyes popped like a pair of headlights. “Invisibility?”
Now I was stunned with silence.
“We’re not stealing anything either,” I declared.
“You stole a boat,” Katie reminded and then pointed to the cars. “There’s no difference, except for the wheels.”
I shot her a droll glare. “I think living with Bethesda has loosened one of your screws.” I pulled out my cell with a jerk and directed a questionable glance towards her head. “Or maybe it’s brain damage from all the hair-dye . . . I could help you with that.”
Katie whipped around in her seat. “You don’t like my new color?”
“I didn’t say that,” I replied, stone-faced. I liked the overall chestnut-color she’d dyed it. It was all the random pastel streaks of lavender, pink, mint-green, and blue strategically striping her strands that I didn’t care for. It reminded me of the My Little Pony dolls we used to play with when we were little. And after seeing her holding that pointy waffle cone earlier, I wanted to snatch it out of her hands, stick it to her forehead, and cry, “Unicorn”.
“Either way, it’s a good thing you can fix crazy,” Katie announced and then stuck out her tongue.
After a steady stream of clicks, I was logged into my new bank account. Beatrix had already taken the liberty of setting one up for me, complete with a stack of all-access checks I’d found inside the folder last night. And to my further surprise, Ms. Meticulous had made sure I was issued my very own big-girl VISA card linked to it.
“I found out Bea left me some money . . . and a company,” I revealed.
Katie scooted around and into a more bracing position. “How much?”
All those digits still made me uncomfortable, so I simply handed her the phone once the page had loaded. My bosom friend slumped down in the seat, her bug-eyed stare never leaving the tiny screen for a second. I started to snap my BFF out of her daze when a shit-eaten grin cracked across her formerly frozen face.
Katie tossed me the phone. “Well eat your heart out, Mike Riverside.”
My lips quivered out an uneasy smile. I still couldn’t believe it, but she wasn’t lying.
“Does your mother know?” she quizzed.
My head fell into a sharp tilt. “Are you CRAZY? She’d be up here so fast hounding me to make amends with her — for all the wrong reasons.”
“She’d probably breastfeed you for a sniff of that kind of money,” Katie chuckled.
I smacked her arm. “That’s sick.” Even still, I could see her trying to do it too.
Katie paused with her hand on the door handle. “I’m just curious about one thing . . .”
“What’s that?” I asked.
My BFF pointed to the Fiat sign mounted above the dealership. “Why the hell doesn’t that Italian word up there say, ‘Lamborghini’?”
For the first time ever, my daggone bottom lip couldn’t drop a single inch.
Katie shifted in her seat, feeling my disbelief. “Ferrari?” she resubmitted with a sheepish squint.
I couldn’t stop my eruption. “You’re lucky it doesn’t say Vespa after what you did to my graduation ’Vette.”
Her not-so-innocent teeth sank into her bottom lip like she was clinging to the edge of a life-raft. “Touché,” she conceded, now looking the poster-child for humble. And with that, we hopped out of the car and beat a path towards a shiny red Abarth fitted with a soft black top.
My smile was positively fluorescent as I watched her take the key from the salesman. Then an amusing idea suddenly streaked through my mind.
I wonder how she would feel about me driving her “new car”? I glanced back at my Charger, trying to picture the day when I would see my ’63 split-window sitting in its place. Now that would be a definite offering of trust!
CHAPTER 16
Nothing can make a gal plan a day quicker than finding out her best friend is a millionaire. Yep. The girl you couldn’t dynamite out of bed before noon on any given Saturday was showered and ready to go at 8 AM. I should have figured as much. Katie had woken me up three times last night mumbling store names in her sleep. In fact, I was betting that new car trunk of hers would be crammed full by noon and spilling over into the backseat. She even called me her “sugar mama” as we were heading out the door. I may have shot my bosom friend a prickly glare, but I was happy to do it for her. I knew how much she missed her mother-daughter shopping sprees, and Mrs. Stowell really liked to spoil her baby girl. So as far as my guilt-ridden heart was concerned
, I still had a lot of making up to do.
Our day started off with breakfast at The Lucky Four Leaf, a corner café two blocks from her building. Katie insisted the food was decent, but I suspected choosing that particular spot was her idea of a cutesy-joke, especially after reading their promise of “good luck to all who eat here” painted on the café’s front window as we walked in. And I wasn’t kidding when I told the hostess who’d seated us that I wanted that “guarantee” in writing. All in all, the restaurant served its purpose, supplying our guts with plenty of stomach-swelling full-steam-ahead carbs. Of course our waffles arrived on the burnt side, rivaling the color of Hershey’s Bars, and they’d scrambled my eggs instead of frying them sunny-side up like I’d requested. Truth be told, every bite made me miss Silas’ cooking and oddly enough, his battery of snippy wisecracks that would unfailingly accompany all of my meals. The only thing our charming waitress served up was blah food, surly gum-smacking, and a hearty helping of rude. And though my opinion of the house steward remained firm, at least that ass packed class.
From there we jumped into the Fiat and drove to Newbury Street. Katie vowed that it was “the one and only place” she wanted to go. I should have known it would turn out to be a mile-long stretch of select boutiques and retail chains that poured into even more shops and department stores throughout the surrounding streets. Though in all fairness, I couldn’t imagine a more picturesque place to spend the day shopping. Both sides of Newbury Street were lined with charming four and five-story brownstones and every one of their bay windows featured elaborate merchandise displays that practically dragged you inside by your purse straps. Judging from the way my shop-till-you-drop BFF’s eyes were bugging, all the metallic numbers on my new plastic card would be worn away by the end of the day and replaced with a thousand scuff marks.
Six hours later, I’d already made eight invisible & speedy trips to the car — and we still hadn’t hit all the places she’d compiled on her list. I knew I was in trouble as soon as she’d parked this morning and pulled up a shopping app on her cell phone — complete with a master list, directions, store info, and tons of pictures. I was actually surprised it didn’t have a virtual personal shopper that popped up on the screen or a remote-trigger that whisked open all the stores’ doors upon our arrival. Aside from getting to spend time with my BFF, I resigned myself to embracing the black hole of retail hell I was trapped in — at least until the stores closed at 9:00 P.M. I liked to shop, but even I knew the little fashionista ran in a league of her own.
Katie directed my eyes up to a Victoria’s Secret sign hanging over our heads. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you down a bra?” she giggled, tugging on my arm.
I planted my feet firmly on the concrete. “My undie-drawer doesn’t need any replacements.”
“Oh, come on!” Katie pleaded. “You can get one without lace this time.”
“I’ll pass,” I groused.
Katie stomped her foot on the sidewalk. “You haven’t bought hardly anything today . . . Just a couple of tops and a journal.”
“Actually, I picked up that stuff for Bethesda,” I admitted sheepishly.
“WHAT?” Katie shrieked.
“I feel weird spending Bea’s money. On you it’s fine, but not on myself.”
“That’s CRAZY!” Katie choked out, laughing. “She wanted you to have it.”
“I know,” I sighed uneasily.
“You’re going to have to spend some on yourself eventually. Why not a little now?” she argued and then jerked me into the store.
“I don’t need anything from in here unless they have some kind of magical teleporting bra. I could just lift my shirt and flash my boobs. I might catch an eye or two.” Maybe…
Katie lifted my chin. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s what they mean by ‘Miracle Bra’.”
“Then maybe they have one big enough that will sling-shot their butts back across The Veil,” I countered with a huff.
“Shi, you need to stop worrying about it. You’ve still got time. And even if for some reason you don’t banish them all, what’s the worst that could happen? They’ll still be there. It’s not like you’ll never be back at Tanner’s house ever again.” A sly grin slowly lifted the corners of her mouth. “If anything, I think I would prolong their departure for as long as I could.”
I almost needed shades to tame the blinding twinkle in her eyes. “My frustration is bad enough, but Tanner’s . . .” I lowered my head. “I don’t have to read his emotions. He may not show it, but he has to be just as frustrated or well on his way. I can’t help feeling like such an absolute failure.” I slipped his treasured lifeline out from underneath my shirt and gave it several thoughtful strokes. “And an embarrassment.”
“Is that his phantom crystal?” Katie asked.
“Yep,” I puttered out.
“Shi, there’s no way he’s disappointed in you,” she assured. “Why in the world would he hand his soul over to someone he didn’t trust completely? Even a trace of it?”
I averted my stare, which happened to fall on a bra just like the one I’d ripped getting the oculus out — same glaring purple color too. “Maybe because blind desperation can make a person do really stupid things,” I insisted, head shaking. I nodded to a pink velvet sofa sitting in front the dressing rooms. “Take your time. I’ll be waiting over there.”
Katie snatched up a few bras. “You know that’s not the first soul you’ve had hanging around your neck,” she reminded sternly. “You need to stop being so negative. Quit treating that phantom crystal like it’s some sort of noose and accept it for what it truly is — a gift!” My bosom friend’s amber eyes turned glassy. “The responsibility of caring for someone’s soul is a magnanimous gift. You’re depending on that one person day and night — and then some! It’s the most important thing in the world.” Katie’s eyes focused on the crystal fervently. “No matter if it contains a trace of a supernatural’s soul or a complete human being’s.”
And with that fired off, my BFF hurried into the dressing rooms. She may have kept her tears from falling, but she’d left plenty of memories highlighting her time in diamond solitary-confinement in her wake. From the vehement waves blaring from her thoughts, I knew she was right. I lifted the crystal and stroked my fingers across its face, needing to lose myself in the churning glow of Tanner’s essence. I would be the first to admit that most of my thoughts of late would fall well within the dark realm of pessimistic, but climbing out of that gloomy hole was easier said than done. Yes, this truly was a gift of his trust, but it also served as a disappointing reminder. The way things were looking between my mentor and me, this might be the only piece of his soul I ever got. I knew it was petty in the grand scheme of all Veil-related things, but it truly saddened me the most. My only hope was it didn’t turn out to be my hardest hurdle with respect to getting out of my funk.
It wasn’t long before the storefronts took a much pricier turn. Mass retail chains like J. Crew, Gap, and Express had been swiftly replaced with renowned big-ticket names like Chanel, Armani, and Valentino.
Katie made a mad dash to the Burberry boutique. “This is the last one.” She threw up her hand. “I promise.”
“I thought you hated plaid,” I contended.
“No, no.” Katie pointed to a mannequin in the window. “That’s not just any plaid. It’s a classic tartan,” she stressed. “I love tartans.”
I was trying my damnedest not to laugh. “Oh, my mistake.”
Katie twisted around with her hands clenched, blazing an endearing grin. She looked like the epitome of a four-year-old child on the verge of issuing the mother of all best intention promises that they would be good forever and ever. “Just one tiny purse?” she asked.
My grin inevitably broke loose. “Yes. Whichever one you want.”
Then she dropped down on one knee. “Umbrella to match?” she pleaded, bouncing her brows.
“Well of course,” I huffed and then gave my head a theatric
al toss, “ . . . And you’ll have to get a matching $500 scarf.”
“Naturally,” Katie sang with a shrug and then turned towards the door. She was about to step inside when a woman came charging out and bumped straight into her. Luckily I grabbed my BFF before she landed on the sidewalk.
The eerily familiar woman glowered at Katie, cringing as she dusted off her vintage-looking duds. “Watch where you’re going!” she grumbled, even haughtier than I’d heard her before. My captured gaze tracked the woman over to a white Bentley pulling up to the curb, the same one she’d disappeared into outside Ms. Lá Léo’s shop in New Orleans.
“What a rude bitch,” Katie said.
“More like a rude witch,” I corrected and pulled her closer. “Do you remember the snotty woman in Ms. Lá Léo’s store?”
“The one with the creepy brother that was following you around?”
“And pulled out a few of my hairs,” I reminded.
Katie eyed the showy ride as it drove off and then turned her gape back to me. “Seriously? That was her?”
“In the white-washed Downton Abbey flesh,” I confirmed doubtlessly.
“No shit,” Katie mumbled. “Does she always dress so costumey?”
I could feel the curl of my lip mirroring hers. “I guess. That’s basically what she was wearing the last time I saw her. I think her name is Clover.”
“Hmmm . . . So was this run-in bad luck or destiny?” Katie posed, playfully weighing her hands in the air like a set of brass scales.
“This time I’m going with bad luck,” I replied eagerly. “The last thing I want is destiny dropping me on her doorstep — or her creepy brother’s!” My entire body rocked with a skeevy shudder. “Uck!”
Once Katie had picked up enough plaid to outfit practically every clan in all of Scotland, we worked our way back to the car, dumped off the last of our bags, and raced into the Dirty Water Dough Co. for some pizza. After an almost nine-hour stretch of non-stop Shopapallooza, both our appetites were nothing short of raging.