His Devious Angel (2 page)

What the…?

He pushed the talk button and held it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“Can I come back now?” The British accent from his recent guest was as clear as the headache starting to grind at the back of his head.

“I don’t know who you are, or what your game is, but if you come anywhere near me, so help me God, I’ll—“

“Ay, there, hang on. God is trying to help you. Just my bad luck that he sent me to carry out his wishes. Give over, would ya? I won’t be in the way, I promise. I’ll just ride along and maybe warn you to slow down from time to time. You drive like a maniac. You know that, don't you?”

Liam hit End and threw the phone into his front seat. First a quick glance in every direction, then he made his way around the car, got back behind the wheel and started the engine. With a squeal, he took off around the next corner, driving like a stuntman in a chase scene.

That’s it! No more of those pills the doctor gave him. He’d rather have sleepless nights than daytime hallucinations.  In a way, he’d be sorry to give them up. The last few times he’d resorted to using them, like last night for instance, they’d worked like a hot dam. No after-effects in the morning, and the horrific nightmares he normally suffered didn’t appear at all. Not until a few minutes ago, that is.

What had the weirdo said? He worked for God? That’s all he needed to complicate his life even further—a sidekick from the celestial universe.  He checked the rear-view to be sure the invader hadn’t re-appeared and then felt foolish.
Silly bugger's got you spooked! 

Around the next corner was a residential area where the speed limits dropped considerably. Keeping in mind the earlier warning, he lifted his foot from the gas pedal. Obviously wasn't enough for the vision now sitting next to him in the front passenger seat.

“Look ’ere chap. Kids live around here. Do us a favor then, and slow it down.”

Liam gripped the wheel and only his eyes swiveled to look sideways. Yep, there he was again. Johnny Depp in his pirate costume. He decided not to acknowledge the hallucinatory poser, hoping he’d go away.

Teach him right for resorting to taking medication. Other than a night of drugged release, he'd known the underlying problem wouldn’t be solved.  And now look what he had to deal with—visions and voices. Damn doctors don’t know diddly. Go in for tests, and all the quacks want him to do is see a shrink and spill his guts about his war experiences. Not gonna happen! Those days are over and reliving the horror is plain baloney—time to move on.

A flash in his peripheral vision attracted his attention. He snuck a peek sideways and Johnny sat, white-knuckling the front dash in an obvious hint—or a feeble attempt at humor.

“You can ignore me, but I’ll not be going anywhere. I popped in to see you for a reason. And it’s coming up shortly. So once again, Gov, for your own good, drive the speed limit.”

“What are you? A ghost with a badge?” This time Liam glanced over and acknowledged his passenger just by talking with him.

“Nah, just an angel with a mission.”

The light ahead turned yellow, and as was his habit, Liam speeded up in order to make the intersection before it turned red.  The hiss from next to him made him laugh. “Relax, man. One thing I can do is drive. Anyway if you’re an angel,” he snorted while saying the word, “what do you care? You can’t die again, can you?”  All of a sudden, a slight pressure on the brake pedal effectively slowed the car, and it didn’t come from him.

“Not worried about me. But you could hurt someone else. I’m here to make sure that doesn’t happen. You couldn’t live with another killing on your conscience.”

Before Liam could suck up the words, a small child dashed into the road. Slow motion kicked in—as it was wont to do in such times—and his brain assimilated everything exactly as it was trained. From behind a parked car the toddler’s ball had rolled from his reach. He’d chased it and ended up in front of Liam’s bumper. Liam’s quick reaction—slamming on the brake and wrenching the wheel—helped somewhat, but the saying, too little, too late, perfectly described the situation. 

"So how many do you have to walk today, Sadie?" Her nosy but lovable neighbor liked to pull Sadie's chain about her livelihood. Not that she gave a hot damn. Sadie figured it was mostly envy that prompted the teasing. Greta's job as a hairdresser, a bitchy one, at that, meant having to listen to her customer's complain about their lazy husbands and rotten kids all day, for which she had Sadie's total respect and sympathy.

"Hi Greta. None. My next two days are free."

"Lucky dog! How will you survive without your pooches?"

Sadie laughed at the pun, and then shook her head. "You make me sound obsessed. I love dogs, so sue me." Being a dog-walker was one of Sadie's three jobs. Many in the nearby high-class neighborhood fought over her services, and those she chose as clients were willing to pay top dollar.

"Uh-huh!" Greta smiled and crossed her arms, waiting.

"Whatever. I just hate to think of my charges not getting proper exercise because of their owner’s lifestyles."

"You mean the lazy parasites who'd rather pay someone else to walk their dogs than get off their pampered behinds and do it themselves? Those clients?"

"Now, Greta. You're happy enough to take their money when you do their hair. So why would I begrudge them the opportunity to pay me to do something I love?"

"Well, when you put it that way... So what've you planned for your free time?" The pseudo sarcastic way she asked the question made Sadie aware that she knew dam well there would be little free time.

Walking dogs wasn't her only responsibility. She also gave yoga classes five mornings a week, which left her afternoons free for the canine care. Then in the later part of the day, she gave free classes to the middle and high school students, tempting them to better themselves. She'd started helping out in the local school gym, and by getting to work with the overweight, unhappy kids, many times she'd convince them to give her workouts a try.

Also, she volunteered at the local care home a couple of evenings a week to work with the elderly, showing them that being sedentary might be easier and more comfortable, but in the long run it's the wrong choice.

"Don't you have night classes tonight at Country Gate?"

"Usually I would, but they're having a dinner theatre evening specially set up for them by one of the local groups. The old dears are so excited. Didn't you get a call to set up there to work your magic?"

"I couldn't go this time. We're booked solid at the shop, or should I say,
I'm
booked. But Julie will be there most of the day."

"You tease me about my good works, but my friend, you're a softie too, you know."

"Maybe a bit soft-hearted, but you go as far as being soft-headed. Anyone can con you with a teary look and a sad story."

"Nah! I'm no one's sucker—trust me. But some people are just rather pathetic, and it's not a sin to give a helping hand now and again."

"Yeah! And again, and again, and—"

"Oh shut up." Sadie slugged the arm next to her gently and grinned.  "Gotta go for dinner to Mom's tonight. Wanna come?" The whining note made Greta laugh.

"I have no idea why you always want me to protect you from the mother you love more than—than is healthy. She just has to blink those false eyelashes of hers, and you roll over like that bizarre puffy poodle you walk. The one that prances around like some gay canine."

"Oh, you mean Giorgio? He's very intelligent."

"He struts. Throws his head so all those silly pompoms bounce, and I swear he flirts with his eyes." Copycatting, Greta angled her pretty face to one side and fluttered her long dark eyelashes as if she were the dog.  Sadie had to admit to there being a slight resemblance and laughed until she heard Greta's next sentence. "Sorry, kiddo, you're on your own with the tribe tonight."

Sadie's mother and two sisters meant the world to her. She loved them dearly and tried really hard not to give in to them every single time they set her up, but so far her record was lousy. Inwardly, she straightened her shoulders and stiffened her backbone.
Quit putting it off…beg…you know you will
.

"Awww! Don't make me face them alone. You never know what they'll talk me into."

"Sorry, friend. I have a hot date with the new customer, and he takes total precedence—even over one of your mom's meals."

"He must be absolutely gorgeous then."

"Oh, yeah!"

Sadie knew that Greta's biggest wish was to find someone to marry and raise kids with…preferably someone who would take her away from the business she professed to hate. Happy for her friend, Sadie reached over to squeeze her hand. She accepted that not everyone disliked the male species. And to be a good friend was to support another's right to be different.

But getting tied down and giving any man control over her choices—not in this lifetime. She glanced at her watch and jumped up, almost tripping on the silly fancy-dancy robe her mother had given her for Christmas. "Dam piece of silky…arrgg!" she muttered, then glared at Greta's “tsking”.

With a final tug at the hem caught on a prickly branch, she said. "Here’s hoping your date turns out to be better than mom’s cooking. I'm off to get ready for my run. See you tomorrow to get the goods on the new dude."

Sadie stepped into her own condo, slid the patio doors shut and locked them. Their neighborhood here in DC was pretty safe, but in this day and age anyone who didn't lock their doors was a flaming wheel-nut.

She returned to the utility room the long-spouted can she'd used to water the frenzied mass of flowers on her patio and snatched her newest, just-washed yoga outfit to wear for her run because all her sweats were in the laundry basket. Another chore on her never-ending to-do list.

As she passed through to get to her bedroom, her eagle eye scanned the modern pale blue and green furnishings in her open-plan area and determined that her place was in its usual tidy state. Her bedroom only took a minute to organize, and while she straightened everything, she thought of how happy the uncluttered space made her feel and how glad she was that she'd held strong on her intention of moving from the family home.

 It had taken a lot of guts for her to make the "It's time for me to move, Mommy" speech. Without Greta promising to protect her from the dangers her mother ranted about, she doubted if she'd have succeeded. 

Hysterics from her mother and pleading from her sisters had all but broken her, but with the elbow periodically from her friend to strengthen her resolve, she'd held strong. Now, every day she took time to just "be in the moment" and feel the beautiful peace. I love it here, she thought, then danced a little jig. Love it, love it, love it!  

In front of her mirror, she made sure that her black and turquoise stretch outfit fit properly—not too tight. She hated snug clothes that made her look fat. First she turned to the left, then the right, and picking up a small hand mirror, she checked the back. Tugging here and there, she finally gave up.

Grabbing at her soft hair, she tried unsuccessfully to clip it back. It was thick, naturally wavy, and Greta's pride and joy, so she couldn't cut it off as she'd constantly threatened. Finally, with some water, she managed to control it in a clip, and with a last perusal of her face, a dab of pink lip-gloss and pats on cheek for extra color, she grabbed her keys and made for the door.

Washington wasn’t too hot for a change. Instead of the mugginess that hovered many times in this famous city, there was a cool breeze.  The day was perfect for running. After a warm-up of stretches and bends, her body felt loose and lovely. She started out on her favorite route where, every once in a while, she'd see children playing in their yards—mostly with their overly protective parents watching.

Kids made her wish she liked the male species—at least enough to want to procreate with one. But during her torturous earlier years as a fat girl, it was the boys who teased her the worst, called her by the meanest names and made her want to crawl under the nearest rock. No, not a rock, she corrected the thought; make that a huge boulder. 

Stop thinking about that garbage today… It's too beautiful.
She shut down bad memories and got into her rhythm.

One moment she was ambling along at her unusual steady pace, in the next she registered the danger to a child chasing his ball into the street and somehow became magically jet-propelled. She never knew she could run so fast.