“My aura? What are you talking about?” Camille shifted her purse on her shoulder and looked at her curiously.
“Yeah, even though you look like a crack head in that shirt and those pants.” Sarah stuck her tongue out and then smiled.
“I don't look like a crack head do I?” She picked at her shirt in horror.
“Okay, crack head was harsh... Homeless.” She looked her up and down again. “Maybe. But I know homeless people with at least some style.” She stuck her tongue out at Camille, softening her harsh words with a smile. She didn't mean to offend, and Camille knew that. She turned to order her food. “One brown rice with broccoli and shrooms, Jian, just like always! You know how I get down.” She wiggled her eye brows and smiled at the cook, who had to be in his seventies. He grinned back. He was missing at least half of his teeth. “You want anything, Camille?”
“No, I had a pretzel earlier, but thanks.” Her stomach was still tied in knots and more food on it would probably end up with a fun display of puke. Let's avoid that, shall we... Don't want to scare off someone who could be a friend.
“Jian, wrap it up, my good man! Give Wen my love, k? Tell those rug rats I'll come see them soon enough, okay?” She smacked a ten dollar bill down on the counter and blew him a kiss. He grinned and stuck the money in the register.
“How do you do that?” Camille caught up beside her and touched her arm.
“Do what?” She pursed her lips as she searched for a table.
“Be so... Well, cool?” Camille sputtered out.
She rolled her eyes and crinkled her nose. “Who says I'm cool?”
Camille stuck her hand up. “Me and pretty much everyone else.”
Sarah laughed as she found a table. She walked toward it, her shiny lime green shoes clicking on the floor. “Wanna know a deep, dark secret?”
Camille found herself nodding like a bobble head doll. “Yeah.”
Sarah sat down and let out a dramatic sigh. “Okay, time to shake the cobwebs off the skeletons in my closet, I guess.” She smirked then leaned forward with a mischievous glint in her eyes. “I'm wanted in eight states for mass murders. Despicable ones.” She sat back and unrolled the plastic silverware from her napkin. She opened the Styrofoam container and sniffed her food. “Mmm... They call me a serial killer.” She viciously stabbed a mushroom to further illustrate her statement.
Camille pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. “Bullshit, I don't believe you. You're too happy for murder.”
Sarah popped the mushroom in her mouth. “Yeah. I am not huge into blood. Although, if it was a vampire, hell yes, count me in. He can suck every part of me he wants, if you catch my drift.” She wiggled her fire colored brows wickedly.
Camille laughed at her cheeky remark. “Vampires are hot. I find I'm partial to paranormal beings.” She sobered a little and asked, “Okay, so what's your secret?” She realized she was sitting in the chair clutching her purse like a little girl waiting to get her birthday present or something. Kind of creepy and pathetic. She casually leaned back in the chair. She still looked awkward.
Sarah smiled ruefully, her mouth twisting down. “I was a teenage prostitute.” She speared a piece of broccoli and chomped down on it viciously.
Camille laughed incredulously. “No, be serious. Come on, dude.”
Sarah looked at her darkly. “I am.” She scooped up some rice and popped it in her mouth, avoiding Camille's eyes.
Camille coughed nervously as her laughter abruptly stopped. “Oh... I'm sorry.” She fiddled with her purse straps again. Shit, shit shit... you are doing this all wrong.
Sarah smiled and brushed a wayward orange curl out of her face. “It's okay. I'm free now. No one can hurt me anymore. Janis Joplin said, 'Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,' and I was at that point. So I got out while I could.”
Camille nodded sympathetically. “I'm really sorry. I thought you were kidding.”
Sarah took a bite of broccoli, chewing brutally. “Most folks do. They don't want to think people can be horrible to kids.” She chewed some more and swallowed. “I was twelve and met this guy who was 24, he was unbelievably hot... He bought me stuff. Hell, I was just a kid and the latest and greatest shit was amazing. He took me away from the shit I was in at home. Then he got my mind all messed up and before I knew it, I was being pimped out by him.” She shrugged. “Mostly on Craigslist. There are lots of sick pervs in the world.”
Camille frowned, her heart in her throat. “I am really, really sorry Sarah. I didn't mean...”
Sarah shrugged and smiled sadly. “Seriously, it's cool. Like I said, I'm free. I am my own woman. I got through all the bad stuff and I am happy.”
Camille rubbed her arm self consciously. “But how... How did you get through the bad stuff?”
Sarah raised her copper brow in curiosity. “You got bad junk too? What skeletons are in your closet? Are you a secret werewolf? Maybe an angel?”
Camille laughed, the sound hitting her ear wrong, a little like a nail across a chalkboard. “Don't we all have some bad junk and secrets?”
Sarah nodded in agreement. “Yeah, we all do, but based on your aura, you got some serious bad junk and some juicy good secrets.”
Camille cocked her head to the side. “You said something about my aura earlier. What are you talking about?” She casually ignored the secret comment.
Sarah grinned. “I'm into all that hippy trippy stuff. You have an interesting aura. You have a grey-blue aura. Sometimes grey, sometimes blue depending on the light.. and it is trimmed in white.” She sipped her drink and watched Camille quietly, letting her digest what she'd said.
“What does all that mean?” Camille laughed and shrugged helplessly.
“Well.” Sarah started, “Grey can be depressed, which we need to work on, and blue is compassion, although your blue is light blue. That can mean you're sensitive. White means you have a protector. Not everyone has a protector.” She tapped her plastic fork against her lips. “Do you know you have a protector?”
Camille's eyes went wide. “A protector? Like what? Some kind of super hero? Prince Charming? Knight in shining armor?” She said quickly. Too quickly, Camille, she admonished herself. Smooth moves, idiot.
Sarah nodded. “Yeah kinda like that. You have a protector. He's serious and he's bad ass. He's got issues too, but I like him. You should get to know him.” Tap tap tap, she went with the fork on her lip. “Maybe we could do a seance or something.” She smiled, and Camille swore there were tears in her eyes, but she sucked in a breath of air and stood quickly. “Well, I gotta get back to work. Come on, I'm gonna help you get some cool clothes. I'm gonna take you out tonight. Nothing huge, but I think it's something you'd like, and I think you need it!” She popped her last piece of broccoli in her mouth as she stuffed her container in the trash can. She held onto her drink for later.
Camille sat in place, not moving a muscle. “Sarah. Would you believe me if I told you I see a guy in my dreams and I truly believe he's an angel or a ghost? That he has talked to me?”
Sarah turned quickly, her straw between her lips and eyes solemn. She took two breaths before words came spilling out of her mouth. “Yeah. You aren't nuts. You got an angel when you...” She stopped abruptly.
Air whooshed out of Camille's lungs. “When I what?” She squeaked.
Sarah smiled and waved her hand in the air. “Sorry, I like drama and I've read too many books. Just ignore me, I watched Ghost the other night with Patrick Swayze. God, that man is delicious! Come on, clothes! Let's leave the heavy for another day!” She grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the store, jingling her bangles and waving to everyone the whole way.
Camille couldn't forget though. Unfortunately nothing made sense. Yet.
Chapter Seven – Delicious
He chewed his bottom lip. Sarah was going to be really good for Camille. The problem was that she was just a little too observant and into “hippy trippy stuff” as she put it. She was ele
ctric and very aware of her surroundings. Most humans weren't. He couldn't put his finger on what it was about Sarah, but something was bothering him about her. He casually leaned against the wall across from the store they had gone into and sighed. I'm probably just worrying about nothing. I wonder what kind of clothes Sarah will get Camille into? I would love to be able to get her out of it... He sighed. Probably a good thing the boss man couldn't read his thoughts. He'd be shipped off to Angel Boot Camp or flat out fired before he could blink twice.
Straining his ears slightly, he listened in on their conversation. “Sarah, I am not wearing that top. My boobs...”
“Camille, why not? They are nice. You are small enough you could get away with it. You don't even have knockers like mine, so be grateful for that. God, you really need a new bra. See, it's perfect. You don't even NEED a bra with this shirt. Come on, just try it on. Please?”
He suddenly got incredibly uncomfortable. Apparently angels could still get a hard on.
“Sarah, I look like a stripper.” She grumbled.
“You do not. Nothing I pick out looks like something a stripper wears. Girl, I have taste. Get out here and let me see.” She could hear Sarah clapping her hands in delight.
She sighed. The top was pretty. It was a rich deep plum halter top that skimmed her perfectly, making her breasts look great and her skin and eyes glow. The top was skimpy, only one tie at the top and the back. Barely strings. Not even ribbons. She swallowed. Sarah at least had paired the top with dark skinny jeans. The other problem was the shoes. They were red sneakers. Not just red, they were ruby slipper red. Taking a slow breath, she opened the fitting room door.
“Oh my God, Camille! Look at yourself in the mirror. Let me see your hair down...” Before Camille could protest, Sarah had whipped the pony tail holder out of her hair and her dark hair slipped down her back like a waterfall. “Camille,” she breathed. “Oh yeah, you have to leave your hair down wearing this. It gives JUST the right amount of sexy without too much. Look!” She grabbed her shoulder and turned her back to the mirror.
Camille peeked over her shoulder. Her hair was hanging in a sheet down her back, leaving only a couple of inches of pale skin visible between her hair and the jeans. It helped with the uncomfortable feeling slightly. “Okay. What about the shoes? They don't match.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Have you never heard of a statement piece?” She kicked out her own foot and pointed down at her shiny green shoes. “Honey, these are it, and they are fantastic! You have to buy them. They are a sample pair, no one else will have them. At least not in this shit hole town. They don't fit me or I'd snag them, but you have to have them as my new best friend. It's just the way it is.” She crossed her arms over her chest.
“Fine.” Camille agreed reluctantly.
Sarah clapped her hands. “Yay! Okay. You need some earrings.” She looked at her quickly. “Do you have earrings?” Camille nodded. “And makeup. But I can do your makeup later.”
Camille fidgeted. “I want to get some other stuff. Just a few things though. I'm not going to walk around wearing this all day, even though it is gorgeous.”
Sarah grinned like a Cheshire cat. “No? I bet you'd get a lot of attention. Okay, let's see...” She moved through the racks of clothes as if she was on auto pilot, snagging a piece here, an item there. “Here, start with this.”
Camille raised her eyebrow. “Apparently I need all of this? Will a fashion apocalypse happen and there be no clothes left in the world? Oh, the horror!”
Sarah sighed. “No, but you have to try stuff on to see if it fits! Now move!” Camille tried on endless tops and jeans, and only the ones Sarah squealed over made it into the keep pile, which was pretty large. Finally she was done trying things on. “Yay!” Sarah exclaimed. “Now you get to pick which things are your favorites.”
Camille picked two pretty tops and another pair of pants. The rest was going back, and Sarah happily hung everything back on their respective hangers. “I think this will do,” Camille murmured.
Sarah nodded. “Yeah, you will look nice in those. Please get a bra from somewhere. You need to be measured. Or get one of those camisole bra things. They are killer comfy.” She hung the rest of the items up quickly and walked over to the register.
Camille followed with the few things she wanted to buy. “Okay. Where are you taking me tonight?” She set everything on the counter and watched as Sarah painstakingly took one piece at a time and rang it up then folded.
“Hmm?” Sarah asked, zoned in her work.
“Where are you taking me tonight?” Camille repeated. She drummed her fingers on the counter.
“OH! It's a surprise. No raver or anything like that. You aren't into that, I can tell. I think you'll have fun, and God knows, based on those aura colors, you NEED fun.” She slid everything into a bag then said, “After my amazing employee discount, you owe me $150.42.”
Camille grinned in thanks. “Thank you for giving me your discount.” She pulled her debit card from her wallet, feeling slightly guilty that she was spending this much on clothes.
“You are welcome! Based on what you came in here wearing, you needed this stuff, so don't feel bad, yeah?” Sarah smiled stealthily and swiped her card.
“I'm not feeling guilty.” Camille said rapid fast.
“Sure you aren't. What are you in crazy debt and shouldn't be spending or something? Gah, you have classic I feel bad for shopping syndrome.” She shook her head and handed her the receipt. “Sign for me please.”
Camille signed the receipt and handed it back, laughing cautiously. “No, nothing like that. Just don't like spending money much.”
Sarah nodded. “I see, you don't just suffer from the I feel bad shopping syndrome.. you also suffer from tightwaditis. Damn. I'm gonna have to loosen you up.” She grinned wickedly then pushed a pen and piece of paper across the counter. “So Tighty, can I get your digits so I can pick you up later?”
Camille scribbled the number down and smiled. “You are going to think this is so caveman-like.”
Sarah looked at her and laughed. “What?”
“Well, you know. Old school. Caveman sounds cooler though. I don't have a cell phone.” She grimaced a little.
Sarah laughed hard. “What? No cell phone? Why?”
Camille shook her head. “Because my parents were firm believers that they caused brain cancer. I just recently got a microwave.”
Sarah shook her head in mock horror. “That's crazy! How do you survive?”
“I just don't really talk to people.” She said awkwardly.
Sarah ignored her awkwardness and said, “Okay, I'm going to call you later. I get off at five. I'll be by to get you probably at six. Does that sound good?”
Camille nodded her head and smiled. “Yeah. It sounds okay.”
“Sweet. See you then! Bye, girl. I have to get back to work before my boss fires me.” She laughed softly and motioned her out the door.
“Okay, thanks for everything.” She turned and walked out of the store.
“Yeah, thank you too.” Sarah smiled to herself and pocketed her number.
Chapter Eight – Debauched
She slid behind the steering wheel of Bertha, who refused to start. “Damn it, Bertha, don't give up on me now!” She smacked the steering wheel and the horn went off in a pathetic toot that sounded kind of like a whoopee cushion half filled. She laughed, letting tension run off of her like water on a duck's back. It felt good.
“Have you ever thought of fixing her up or maybe even breaking down and buying a better car?” His voice filled the car, warm and silky, with just a little heat. It flowed all over her like warm honey.
A laugh died in her throat awkwardly and she quivered. “People are going to think I'm crazy sitting here talking to myself and no, I like Bertha. She's a statement piece.”
“Camille, they probably already do. You looked like a crazy witch doing spells and then losing it. This car is not a statement piece. Maybe a st
atement piece of shit, but statement piece of fashion, hell no.”
She laughed again until tears ran out of her eyes. “I call it doing my Harry Potter spells to get her to start. Don't hurt her feelings. She's a good car, damn it. She might be old, but cars have feelings too.” She saw the sunlight glimmer off the back of her seat and felt his hand touch her shoulder. He was impossibly warm. “You know something, I still don't know your name. I still don't know what you are. I'm sitting here talking to an angel ghost thing who doesn't even tell me his name. If you tell me it is Casper, I swear to God, I will piss my pants.” She giggled.
He laughed darkly. “My name isn't Casper. I'm not your friendly neighborhood ghost.” He paused then continued, “You know, your friend Sarah is very close to the mark. Uncannily close, actually.” His thumb swirled teensy circles on the skin of her shoulder. She felt the warmth and bit her lip.
She looked in his direction and slowly released her lip from her teeth. It popped free, glistening and behind his zipper throbbed. “She is?” Her breath caught in her throat.
“Yeah, she's pretty much is on the mark. Which is hard to believe. I've never in my time met anyone as perceptive as she is. It's kind of weird for her to size the situation up that quickly. Something about her bothers me and I can't pinpoint it.” He sighed.
“You're an angel?” Her breath hitched again when he switched directions of the circles he was drawing on her skin with his fingertip. “Don't pick on Sarah, I really like her, she's nice.”
“There is a long story about who and what I am, but basically that is the answer I'll give you for right now. I'm an angel. Also, I like Sarah too. She's good for you. She just puts me on edge like she knows too much, and she really reminds me of someone.” He sighed. “Never mind, I'm being weird about it. I forget there are empaths who can sense this kind of stuff.”
“Are you my guardian angel? It's the only thing that makes sense.” Her voice trailed off into the breeze.
They sat just like that for a few minutes until he replied softly, “No.” His voice was flat. “I'm not good enough to be one of those.”
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