by Multiple
He crumpled the paper like it was a sandwich wrapping and held the notice above his head. “This is bullshit. I haven’t made that much money this year. How could I owe this in tax!” He glared at the two agents. “You fucking assholes. What kind of a game are you playing?”
Josh stepped between Daniel and the agents, but part of Daniel’s anger was aimed at his friend as well. “Daniel, look,” Josh said. “I think we can settle this. You need to calm down, man.”
“Calm down?” Daniel reached around Josh to punch Agent Rossetti, but only landed a glancing blow on man’s shoulder, which hardly moved. Rossetti grinned.
“Do that again, and we get to take you in.” His little teeth were stained yellow and crooked. He wasn’t used to grinning, for good reason.
The two agents were hungry for more, Daniel saw.
“Whoa, there!” Beau shrieked in panic. “If you’re going to get into fists and all, take it outside, man. I got glass and breakables in here.” He opened the door and gestured for them to leave. The two agents stood their ground, not even considering him.
Josh kept Daniel and the glowering men separated and turned to them. Although Josh was their height, they outweighed him by at least double. “Gents. There has to be a mistake. I’m this artist’s agent. I can vouch for the fact that he hasn’t sold a painting in over six months. The owner, here, wants him to remove all this, making room for something that will sell. Believe me,” Josh said with conviction, “If he sold something, I would know about it.”
“Yeah, where did you get your information?” Beau said with unusual bravado, taking one step closer, adding his sneer to the mix.
Daniel watched the four men jockey for position and banter among themselves. All because of him. He glared at Agent Fisk, whose red, bloated face made him look like he had a Helium hose secured to his ass.
Behind the IRS agent, the long, unsmiling stares of the big cats peered through jungle foliage and remained passive witnesses. Daniel scanned all of them, one by one. Their eyes followed him as he backed up and out of the cluster of controversy, as if to ask, “What will become of us?” Orphaned children in a divorce proceeding. Did they know their beautiful sibling had met a fiery grave?
Daniel sat on a park bench in the town square and felt as poor as the guy dumpster diving in the pretty little square. How could his life have fallen so far apart? Josh had worked his magic on the agents, who, for now, agreed to leave the paintings in place. Josh promised them sales receipts for the past twelve months and convinced them it was in everyone’s best interests to get the paintings sold, even if it was at half price.
Half price. Is that what my life is worth now? I’m a sale item.
He couldn’t shrug off the loneliness, the pain of his uncertain future. He was hoping this was all a bad dream he’d wake up and find didn’t really happen. What a strange time, a series of unfortunate events all coming together in a great cluster fuck of a convergence.
Perfect storm.
It had to get better. It just had to. Couldn’t be worse.
He got out his sketchbook and began penciling some images of children walking past. He looked up to see a young woman with short scruffy blond hair standing outside the gallery, interested in the sandwich sign. She went in.
Daniel’s pulse shot up. Was she interested in his painting, or the sale? Dressed in blue jeans and an oversized man’s white V-neck tee shirt, she didn’t look like the typical tourist, but rather a local. Maybe he had a fan.
He put away his pencils and tablet and crossed the street, then shadowed the doorway, hesitating to go in. Through the glass door he could see Beau pointing to one of his paintings. The woman tilted her chin, then nodded her head.
Someone is actually looking at my paintings. He could see she was studying them, and was drawn to watch. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he couldn’t help himself.
Daniel took a deep breath, and then put his hand on the doorknob, and entered.
He walked up behind her as Beau scowled a reproach. She turned around, her large blue eyes flashing panic. She temporarily lost her balance, falling against his chest. He held her up, his arm wrapped around her waist, touching the small of her back with his fingertips. Beau’s sales pitch went on in the background. Daniel’s whole world poured into her eyes for just a second, bringing him some peace. The merciful cessation of pain for that all too brief moment. She looked down immediately, and the ache in his head returned.
He thought perhaps she was looking at his crotch, and almost chuckled at her forwardness, but then saw her lashes sweep up and a bright rosy blush come to her cheeks. The short blond wisps of hair about her face formed a halo effect. Her pink lips were entirely kissable. Not knowing what had gotten into him, he leaned toward her and then stopped as he saw her alarm. He released his grip on her waist immediately.
“I’m so sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. Just trying to keep you from falling,” he said, and then mentally cursed himself.
This all you can say to this nubile young woman?
He couldn’t figure out her age.
Without saying a word, she brushed by him and went out the door. Pieces of glitter swirled in the sunlight as she stepped onto the breezy sidewalk. The hairs on his forearm where she had barely touched him stood to attention. And, oh yeah, his bed buddy was pointing like a bird dog.
“Well, that’s just fucking great. Blow your own sale,” Beau said as they both watched the glass door close, tinkling the bell above it.
But Daniel was drawn outside, the string of curses behind him fading as he pursued the girl. She scampered through the crowd and dipped into a shop. She glanced over her shoulder just long enough to make eye contact, and again, Daniel picked up her fear.
Have I seen her before? Trying to recall the luscious ladies Josh had introduced him to over the past few weeks, he couldn’t place her, and somehow didn’t think she would be someone he would know.
He followed her into the blown glass shop she’d entered. The lighting was minimal, but high intensity blasts twinkled down on the translucent marbled glass in mixed colors and shapes, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. She was standing behind a display of glistening paperweights with embedded designs that looked like long tendrils of jellyfish. Through the case he saw her outline, and the way her chest rose and fell. She was nervous. She was as delicate a being as the pieces of glass. And she enchanted him.
He walked to the case, and through the glass said, “I mean you no harm.” He couldn’t see her full face.
She surveyed the sides of the room, ducking as if to get a clear view of the front door. He saw her pink lips and the blush at her cheek. Otherwise, her skin was flawlessly light and seemed to glow from within.
“Please. I just want to talk.” He dropped his shoulders and raised his palms. “I’m the painter. I think you liked my paintings back there.”
“They’re nice.” She looked down.
“Can I show them to you? Would you let me?” He started to come around the corner of the case, but she tensed.
“Don’t! No. I’m not…I have to be somewhere else.” She tried to slide by him. He grabbed one of her hands and felt warmth and a tingle that ran up from his fingertips to his elbow. He delayed her, unwilling to let her go, but did not pull her to him, letting the distance remain. Her soft flesh aroused him in spite of himself.
There was something about her scent.
Sunshine. You smell like sunshine.
Heartened she hadn’t struggled to get away, he thought perhaps she might feel the same attraction. He cocked his head to the side and looked down to catch her eyes, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “I’m Daniel,” he said, placing his other palm to his chest.
Her eyes lingered there.
Yes. You watch me.
Slowly her lashes rose as she enveloped him in the blue water of her gaze, which seemed to take in his whole face, ending at his lips. The connection between
them flared as she opened that mouth he desperately wanted to kiss.
“I really have to go, Daniel. But it’s nice to meet you.”
She was looking at him like she would never see him again. When she turned and firmly retracted her hand from his, leaving him standing there in the glitter, his heart sank.
He dashed to the door she had just exited and called out as she picked up speed in the crowd of tourists. “One minute, please. Just one minute,” he shouted above the sounds of the crowd.
She stopped, turning towards him, but she looked at her feet. The flaxen hairs at the top of her crown glowed gold, almost like they were on fire.
“What is your name?” He held his breath until she answered. It seemed like forever.
“Claire,” she said, giving him a quick look that told him not to follow.
“Nice to meet you too, Claire,” he murmured.
And then she was gone.
Claire rounded the corner, gasping for breath. She wouldn’t trust a look behind her, just in case Daniel hadn’t gotten her intent. She was running away, yet her body was screaming to run back the other direction. She was filled with a strange glimmer and wondered if she would actually glow come sundown. With Daniel’s borrowed tee shirt stuck to her sweaty chest, she felt parts of her body awaken for the first time, the scent of this man’s body mixed with her angelic one.
And she loved it.
Chapter 8
From the back seat of the transport, Claire could see Doris was having a bad day. The cabbie’s hair glowed an intense red and stuck out from under her cabbie hat with obstinate disregard for the rules of coiffure. It matched the way Doris fidgeted and mangled paper messages in the front seat.
“Summons to Heaven for a meeting with the transport director,” Doris said, tossing the ball of paper to the floor.
Something about the cabbie angel made Claire feel she could trust her with anything, including her secrets. Her unusual friend could be counted on to tell it exactly like it was.
“You have any idea what the meeting is about?” Claire frowned with concern. She hated to see the angel so tense.
“Yep, I know exactly what it’s about. I had myself some fun last night.”
Claire wondered what kind of fun Doris meant. “Sorry to hear it,” was all she could think to say.
“Since you’re not gonna ask, I let the air out of a kid’s tires last night.” Doris’s voice was laced with an obvious sense of pride.
That was fun? “I don’t understand.”
“He cut me off. Got the little misfit’s license and ran a check. Went over to his parent’s house and deflated all four tires. Nobody was hurt. But I’ll get the warning anyway.”
Claire laughed. Doris looked at Claire in the rear view mirror and grinned.
“And here you thought I’d gotten myself a boyfriend, right?”
Claire shrugged. Doris did spend a lot of time in the human world.
“Nah, tried that once, Claire. We only kissed. I adored the guy but he didn’t feel the
same. Story of my life. My real life.”
“Wait a minute, this happened when you were human?”
Doris nodded her head. Streaks of sunlight flashed across her face.
Someone else who remembers their human life. Are we the only two?
“What happened to the guy?” Claire asked.
“He’s right here in my heart.” Doris patted her chest. “He died on the job not long afterwards.”
“Maybe you’ll see him some day. You think he could go Guardian?”
“Beats me. Don’t know how they do it. He’d be a good one, though. Saved a bunch of lives that day, including mine.”
“You should ask Father.”
“I keep my distance. I’m usually on his list. And not the good one. I find it difficult to behave as it is. Don’t you go telling him, okay?”
Claire smiled, touched by this little revelation from the spunky cabbie. It was the only bit of softness she’d shared with Doris in all the years they’d run back and forth between Heaven and the human world. She really didn’t know anything about Doris.
“Guess I’m not the kissing kind. No, I leave all the lovin’ to all youse guys, the Guardians. Your charges are safe from me at least.” She leaned back and laughed.
Doris dropped Claire off to meet up with another Guardian doing duty nearby, Angela. Last year, Angela had lost one of her human charges to a dark angel. Claire had been on assignment at the time, but heard the stories when she returned to Heaven. The experience had caused quite a stir in the Guardianship. Failures were hard to take. Tears flowed like water for weeks. In the end, Angela was able to return to work, without having to go through the wash.
Today, Claire found Angela reading by a picture window at the large bookstore.
“Hey, Claire, what a surprise. Didn’t know you were down here.” Angie’s blond hair was longer than Claire’s. She wore it back in a ponytail; a few golden strands had pulled free and framed her sweet face and fair complexion. Claire thought Angie looked exactly how humans pictured angels to look, except for the clothes. She sported a red pair of Converse high-tops.
Another angel with a shoe fetish.
“Just got here last night. Who you got?” Claire asked.
Angie smiled, blushing a little. “A sex therapist.”
Claire’s eyes widened. “No way.”
“Go figure.” Angie rocked back and forth, then curled her lip. “You wouldn’t believe what this guy does in his therapy sessions.” She leaned closer. “I’ve learned a lot.”
“Like what?” Claire’s cheeks were hot.
“He sometimes watches couples, you know, doing it. I mean, they come into his office and he coaches them. Can you believe it?”
Claire could only shake her head.
“Promise me you won’t tell Mother.”
“She’ll pick up on it as soon as you’re back. She doesn’t miss a thing, especially if it’s something you enjoyed doing.”
Angela laughed.
“So why would a sex therapist want to kill himself?”
“He has performance issues. Even though he’s a therapist, helping men with their problems, he can’t get it up himself.”
“Wow.”
“Ladies expect him to be Casanova in bed, but he can’t perform. He’s self medicated with Viagra and tried everything else, but it doesn’t help. I’m a little perplexed, but I’ll get a fix on him, I always do.”
Claire nodded. Angie had been the only other angel with a perfect record, until last year. She looked down at her hands folded neatly in her lap and became very still. She wasn’t sure seeking Angie’s help was such a good idea now.
“So what’s eating at you?” Angie finally asked. They were not close friends, but Angie was quick to read a situation.
Claire winced a bit as she began, “I have a gorgeous Brazilian artist. A painter.”
“Nice! And…”
“He’s being tortured by a dark angel. I mean, this guy is his agent and they’ve become best friends. Daniel—the artist—has no idea how dangerous his friend really is. I need to get him away from the dark angel. I can’t tell if Daniel’s ex-girlfriend is one too, but the relationship breakup is apparently what sent him over the edge.”
Angie nodded her head, then glanced outside, watching cars maneuver on the wet street.
“What’s his name?”
“You mean Daniel?”
“No, silly, the dark angel.”
Claire frowned. “Josh. Joshua. Why?”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Angie’s gaze reflected some inner pain as she aimlessly looked nowhere in particular. “I’ve heard of him. The darks always take Bible names. They can’t help themselves. Disarming, aren’t they?”
“I thought maybe you’d seen one before.”
“Unfortunately, yes.” Angie leaned in and grabbed Claire’s hands. “Be careful. Be v
ery, very careful.”
“What do I do?”
“Don’t let him see you. Stay out of his way. Try to curb your fear when you are around him.”
“Too late. He just spoke to me at Café Contada.”
Angie sat up and whistled. “In the flesh?”
“He came without warning, sat across the table, and drank my hot chocolate. Close as you and I are right now.” Claire summed up how Josh had sensed her at Daniel’s and perhaps followed her to the café the next morning.
Angie thought a moment, then asked, “How’s the charge holding up?”
“Fine for now. I think the immediate danger is over. I’m monitoring him. So, what do I do about Josh?”
“Dark angels usually go away once they see the charge isn’t responding. There are easier marks, millions of others they could go after. They’re usually, well, lazy.”
“What if he doesn’t want an easy mark? What if he likes the challenge?”
“Hmmm. Haven’t run across that. Just try to keep your distance from him. Keep your emotions in check too; that’s how they find you. And keep a close eye on Daniel. These dark angels are real bad boys, and I’m not talking about bad as in exciting.” Angie raised her eyebrows for emphasis. Then she tilted her head and hesitated before asking, “Is there anything about this Daniel that’s different than your other charges?”
“No.” Claire lied. She thought about his body, his muscular arms in the moonlight, the way he made love in his dreams, the fullness of his lips and what they would feel like on her pink angel skin.
“The Dark has to want something else. It isn’t Daniel any longer. Once they can’t get the suicide, they usually give up and move on.”
The comment struck Claire across the face. Her fear rose. She could feel the cool breeze on her face in the cemetery as she looked down on a lost angel soul that day.
So that’s how it’s done.