Angel Board

by Rufty, Kristopher

  Amber loved Sam’s shower. It felt like one in a hotel because of the powerful spray. The urge to wash had eased along with the pressure in her head, but she couldn’t imagine moving from this spot.

  Finally, she grabbed the shampoo bottle. The muscles in her arms ached from the extended amount of time in the cold. If she came down with pneumonia, she wouldn’t be surprised. She squirted a mountain of shampoo into the palm of her right hand and returned the bottle to the hanging basket under the nozzle. With both hands, she rubbed the shampoo into her scalp and scrubbed. Her hair felt as if it weren’t her own.

  Like her hangover, the headache was nearly gone. The welt was still there, and probably would be for a couple of days. So long as the bruising was minimal, she didn’t care.

  Amber really needed to soap herself next, but the warm streams running down her body had rendered her immobile. She heard the soft squeak of the bathroom door opening, followed by faint footsteps. She suddenly remembered her fear and why she was here at Sam’s to begin with. A frigid chill tried to fight its way into her warm body, but this time, it failed. The shower was just doing too good of a job for her to worry about much of anything at the moment.

  Amber pulled back the curtain just enough to poke her head out. To the right, the door stood ajar. A small gap allowed her to see into the hallway. A blanket of steam hung in the room like fog. Sam’s head came into her view, startling Amber and making her scream. She jumped back, sliding the curtain shut.

  “I’m sorry,” said Sam. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “Well, you did!” Amber yelled, “Fuck!!”

  “I’m sorry. I was just bringing you some clothes to change into. You can wear them home if you need to leave before your rags get out of the washer.”

  “My rags?”

  “Yeah. It was a cute outfit at one time, but–”

  “But I pissed and puked all over it, I know.”

  Amber heard Sam’s laughter and couldn’t help laughing, either.

  “Are you feeling better?” asked Sam.

  “Yes, much better. Thank you for letting me use your shower.”

  “No problem.”

  “And for letting me wear your clothes.”

  “As long as you don’t ruin them, it’s all good.”

  “Yeah, yeah, keep it up. Just when you’re getting on my cool list.”

  “Really?” Her voice sounded genuinely flattered. “I’m touched.”

  “Don’t pop the cork and celebrate just yet. Your name was just tossed in the hat for consideration.”

  “I won’t hold my breath.”

  Amber grabbed the loofah that dangled from the cold water knob beside the spigot. She squirted a much thicker mound of soap into the sponge-like ball. After placing the soap back in the basket with the shampoo, she stepped away from the water.

  It rained on her back while she lathered herself up.

  “Hey, I can tell by that smell that you’re using my sexy soap.” Sam said.

  Amber thought Sam had left. “Your sexy soap?”

  “That’s the soap I use when I want to tempt the boys. It has the scent from a flower in Europe that supposedly vampires would use to lure their victims to them.”

  Amber read the label on the bottle. Dark Kiss. A brand she had never heard of, but it sounded right up her alley.

  Morbid, thought Amber. And I’m covering myself with it. As if I don’t have enough to worry about. Now I may attract even more weirdoes than normal.

  “It works?”

  “It used to,” admitted Sam. “On your brother, back in the day, it always worked.”

  “You wore this at Christmas, didn’t you?”

  “Honestly, yeah. I thought we would get back together for Christmas. I guess I was bad all year. I didn’t get the one thing I wanted.”

  Amber’s eyes began to tear. Knowing now how much Sam cared for David made her feel like a goon for conspiring to keep them apart. Everyone knew how much David had been hurting since Sam’s affair, but no one had taken into consideration that Sam was hurting too. From what Amber could gather, Sam wasn’t holding up very well at all. Sam has lived with the guilt of what she did. If David had died, she would’ve been stuck living with that as well.

  Damn her, making me cry. Tears escaped her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. They left a salty trail behind them. She stepped into the mist of the shower, rinsing the suds off her body. Burying her face in the water, she hoped to rinse away her tears as well.

  “I’ll be waiting in the living room. I’m going to throw on some coffee for us to talk over.”

  “Talk over?” asked Amber, her mouth open and drowning in the pouring water.

  “You said you were going to tell me about what happened. I’ll be all ears once I have coffee in my system.”

  Sam left.

  After Amber heard the click of the shutting door she muttered, “Shit.” She had hoped by some miracle that Sam had forgotten about all of that. A girl could only dream. She knew that once the wonderful shower was over, more stress would be coming as she tried to convince Sam of what she saw.

  Amber sat down in the flowing water as it was sucked down the drain. She felt the warm water coursing under her rump. It felt good. She scooted backward against the enamel until the spray engulfed all of her. She pulled her knees tightly to her chest, squashing her breasts against her thighs, and hugged them.

  She wished she could be anywhere but sitting in front of Sam when she finally worked up the courage to leave the bathroom. It wasn’t going to happen right now; the water felt too marvelous, although she did not.

  She understood that she would need more courage than she’d ever needed in all her life. Not just to face Sam, but to make it through the next few days. Things were going to get a whole lot worse before they could possibly get better.

  She leaned her head against the wall, and the water showered her neck, pooling in the curve just above her collarbone.

  “This really sucks.” She closed her eyes and groaned.

  Chapter Twenty

  “What’s making you stop by here?” asked Giles, chomping down the last bites of his chili dog. While Stiltson had been driving, Giles hadn’t said a word. He’d been distracted by his food. They were near the end of their shift, but Giles had missed lunch thanks to court running over and had begged John to stop by the corner stand so he could grab three chili dogs and a Coke. Other than putting scum behind bars, a meal from Frank’s Weiner Hut was the next best thing.

  Surprisingly, Stiltson hadn’t complained about driving out this way. He guessed it was because they would be near this store, whatever the hell it was. After court, Giles was shocked to find he actually had an appetite. It had ended well, but his nerves were worn with the dread of what could have happened.

  Barry Winfield, a man Giles had busted for armed robbery, was up for parole after only two years behind bars. Giles went to court to testify against the early release. Luckily, the system pulled through this time and denied the parole. Mostly due to Giles’ retelling of the events that led him to being arrested. Armed robbery—the store clerk had been shot. Then came a two-hour long car chase along the interstate. They had to call in the news chopper to assist them. Stiltson had stayed behind at the store, making sure the clerk was treated properly while Giles led the manhunt. He was the one who crashed Winfield’s getaway car, and also took him into custody. Winfield had tried every trick under the sun with the aid of his Internet trained lawyers. Insanity, diminished mental capacity, and even confusion, but none of it worked.

  Thank God.

  Giles had known then that Winfield was a nasty man, and he’d vowed to make sure he stayed locked up for as long as he possibly could. Today, he had succeeded, but the time would soon come when he’d have to do this all over again just to keep a bad guy in prison.

  But he would be there ready to roll when he was needed.

  “I wanted to grab a cup of coffee,�
�� answered Stiltson.

  “Maybe you should get two cups. Sounds like you may be addicted.”

  Stiltson didn’t acknowledge Giles. When Stiltson became somber like this, he was normally mulling ideas or pondering theories. But if Giles were to investigate his partner’s behavior a little bit closer, he’d surely detect the nervousness that was surging through him, making his natural ashen complexion that much paler. But being more friend than colleague, Giles decided to ignore it. He was confident Stiltson would appreciate it.

  Giles looked at the small, decaying store. A single gas pump with rotary dials to display how many gallons and the cost was in the front. The brick building had been built many years ago and was now infested with soot and grime. Black spots pimpled across the front and sides of the building.

  Giles discovered from the leaning, aluminum sign that the name of this establishment was Charlie’s. He wasn’t surprised that Stiltson would like a place like this. Somehow it fit.

  He remembered Stiltson telling him the owner had a son who was a doctor at the hospital. Seeing the store in person, Giles couldn’t help but doubt that. He pictured any descendants of this owner being more like a character from The Hills Have Eyes than a doctor.

  Giles shook his head, but Stiltson paid him no mind.

  “Why here? There’s a Starbucks in the city.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not the same. Since we’re passing by on the way back from the courthouse, I thought, why not?”

  “Sure. Why not?” Giles could think of a million reasons why not. But it was important to his partner that they stop, and he decided not to tease him about it.

  “Wait out here,” said Stiltson, unbuckling his seatbelt.

  “Sure thing.” Before Giles could finish speaking, Stiltson had shut the door.

  He’s up to something, thought Giles. He chewed over sneaking out of the car and trying to peer through one of the windows. He was sure to find what Stiltson was trying to hide. He decided against it out of fear of being caught. If he saw Giles, Stiltson would be angry. He was going to have to play this all casual, even though he knew Stiltson was mixed up in something.

  He’d find out when Stiltson was ready to tell him. Maybe he has a girlfriend now, or at least someone to screw around with.

  It would do the guy some good to have that.

  Hell, thought Giles, it’d do me some good too.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Wings?” asked Sam. Her hand trembled slightly, forcing her to set the coffee mug on the table between them, spilling some of it.

  Amber studied Sam’s reaction, trying to determine if there was belief somewhere in her voice, or just shock. The clumsy way Sam was trying to clean up her mess, Amber leaned closer to the latter. Wiping up the small spill, Sam bumped the mug with her hand and knocked it off the table. Coffee spattered the floor. The mug shattered against the kitchen tile.

  “Shit!” cried Sam. She stood, flinging the coffee off her hand, and walked away. A few seconds later she returned with a towel from the bathroom and crouched down to wipe the spill up.

  “Sorry,” said Amber.

  “Why are you sorry? I spilled it.”

  “It’s because of me that you did it.”

  “No, it’s not.” Sam was quiet, as if thinking something, then she spoke again. “It was what you said that made me do it.”

  When Amber was sitting under the shower, she’d decided the best way to explain things to Sam was to be blunt and completely honest about everything that had happened, and the way she’d seen it. Now she realized that may have been the wrong approach.

  “I knew you wouldn’t believe me,” Amber said, as if she were a kid trying to convince someone the boogeyman was under the bed. Actually, she was trying to convince Sam of something that was just as implausible. Not just under the bed, but in David’s apartment, seducing him, turning him into a person Amber was afraid of.

  Amber joined Sam on the floor. They carefully picked up the mug shards and placed them up on the table. Sam wasn’t speaking, nor was she looking in Amber’s direction. There was a hint of belief in her body language. She would pick up a piece, halt for a second to think something over and then pick up another piece, and repeat.

  Amber finally asked, “Do you believe me?”

  “How could I believe that?”

  “How could I believe that?” Amber sighed. “If we were on opposite sides of this conversation, I would have laughed you out of the room or told you to get lost. You haven’t done either, so there must be some kind of faith in there.”

  “You’re sadly mistaken.”

  Amber dropped a piece on the table, stood, brushed off her hands, and walked to the counter. She leaned her back against it, folding her arms across her chest. “No, I’m not.”

  Groaning, Sam stood up. With both arms held out to her sides, she asked, “What do you want from me?”

  “Other than me, you’re the only one that can help David.”

  “What about your mother?”

  Amber made a face.

  “Stupid thing to say, I know.”

  “David’s in trouble,” said Amber. “I don’t know to what degree, but I think it has to do with that angel board.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know, maybe because I saw David fucking an angel last night?” Sam lowered her head, lip trembling. Amber suddenly felt terrible. She knew Sam hadn’t deserved that outburst. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  Sam nodded, but said nothing.

  “Listen, I’m just saying that I know barely enough about this shit to get me into trouble. And from what I’ve read, once you start using a Ouija board by yourself, you’re asking for it.”

  “It’s not a Ouija board, it’s an angel board. There’s a difference, right?”

  Amber laughed.

  “Isn’t there?” asked Sam.

  “Yeah, in the paint job.” Amber stepped away from the counter. Pacing back and forth, she said, “It’s like I tried to explain to Mom on Christmas, just because you garnish it up to make it look heavenly, doesn’t mean it is. You can put lipstick on a pig, but it’s still a pig underneath.”

  “Great.” Sam flopped down in the chair, leaned forward, and rested her forehead against her palm. “David’s playing with the devil.”

  Amber laughed again. “Maybe, maybe not. I just know what I saw, and that bitch had wings just like every rendition I’ve ever seen of what an angel is supposed to look like.” She stopped pacing for a moment. “Ouija boards are a doorway to the other side. A way for spirits–mostly demons–to contact the land of the living. People think they’re speaking to their dead Aunt Martha, but really, they’re having a casual conversation with Demonia, the devil-goddess who’s bored and looking for some fun.”

  Sam snickered. “Get serious.”

  “I am serious,” said Amber. “Demons are bored and lonely. They look for something to pass their time. Every so often they get lucky when some dumb fool gets a board and wants to chat.” She shook her head. “Sometimes, the demon is so bored that it attempts to posses the living person it’s communicating with. If the person is willing, or weak, it can happen.”

  “You don’t think David could have actually contacted an angel with that thing?”

  “I don’t know.” She paced again. “Who knows what all you can do with one of those boards?”

  “Then why do you think David needs our help?”

  “Because of what I saw, I told you.”

  “And because he quit smoking?”

  “That’s part of it. You weren’t there. You didn’t see him like I did. He scared me, Sam, truly scared me. He was acting all goofy on top of the creepiness.”

  “Like he was trying to impress someone?”

  “Yeah. Maybe he was.”

  “Who? The angel?”

  Amber shrugged. “Maybe.”

  “Do you know how ridiculous
this sounds?”

  “Yes, I do. Why do you think I came to you? If there’s one thing you know, it’s ridiculous.”

  “Oh, thanks a lot.”

  “Don’t mention it.” Amber stopped pacing and leaned against the counter again. Drumming the tips of her fingers across the edge, she said, “Why haven’t you thrown me out yet?”

  Sam turned around in her chair and let out a sigh. With one arm draped over the back, she looked at Amber. Her face was pale, her eyes sunken, and she couldn’t keep still. “Fine.”

  Amber looked at her dumbly. “Huh?”

  “You said you had a dream, that someone had tried to warn you about something?”

  Amber nodded.

  “I had a dream too, but I can’t remember anything about it. I just remember the meaning, but not the actual dream, or what they were trying to tell me. All I could gather was that it was about David.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

  Sam shrugged. “Would you have believed me?”

  “Maybe not yesterday, but today is a different story.”

  “I just don’t know what they were trying to tell me. How come I can’t remember anything about it, but you can?”

  “I don’t know. It’s not like I can remember all of it.”

  “You remember damn near all of it.”

  Amber frowned.

  “I’ll help you,” Sam said. “I don’t know what David’s done, but I know he isn’t in a healthy frame of mind.”

  Amber laughed her first sincere laugh of the day. “Yeah.” Her smile faded and the frown returned. “I’m thinking about going to the library and doing some research.”

  “On what?” asked Sam.

  “I don’t know yet. You coming along?”

  Sam was quiet for a few moments. “I think I’ll pass,” she said. “Why don’t you come back by here when you’re done?”

  “Why?”