The Angel Series Collection - Books 1-3

Gang Bangers

The following morning started as a typical blistering day. West Texas was hot, but this place had Texas beat by a long shot. Then there were the insects. Folks talked about Texas mosquitoes. Well, they ain’t been to Louisiana. These suckers here were gang bangers.

Sara left early for work. The missing uniform that once hung over the chair gave me a good indication she’d left for work. I didn’t hear the car’s engine roar over the hum of bugsville this morning. I presumed she hitched a ride with her new beau since our car was inoperable. I, the insignificant child, had to walk.

I didn’t want to leave my security blanket, but I had to face my pathetic life. I felt like I’d joined the dead. Still, I huffed out an infuriating sigh, I had to find a job.

I dragged my feet to the shower and then dressed for the day. I picked out something light, a white cotton top and a pair of navy blue cocktail shorts, and to go with the ensemble, I snatched up a pair of strappy wedges out of Sara’s luggage. Most of her shoes were spiked. Since I was flat-footed, I figured strappy wedges would be a better choice.

The main drag was literally around the block. The town was exactly what I’d expected, run down and empty. I never got why Sara preferred the dreary, small towns, only a short stick from a ghost town, precisely like this one. I liked the hustle and bustle of city life. Bus lines to travel, art museums to visit, and people to meet. A wave of sadness brushed over me. I knew my hopes of having a real-life might be a dream jammed in a pipe. Still, I hung on tight to my hope.

run down and empty.Just as Sara said, the gas station was right around the corner. I passed it by heading to the main circle. The sign read Claude’s Stop and Go in bold colors. “Huh!” The same name as the hotel. My eyes brushed over the station as I snarled my nose. The gas stop was like everything else in this town… rickety and dirty.

rickety and dirtyI nodded in passing at a clump of grizzly dark skin men huddled around a card table under a large oak off to the side of the gas station. I got the impression that the pit stop didn’t get much business other than selling fish bait, drinking soda pop, and a challenging game of dominoes.

Once I reached the downtown circle, I lingered a moment peering in the different store windows, dithering. A little pep talk was in order before I entered the land of rejection. I noted a post office on the south side of the circle, a beauty shop next to it and a couple of craft shops and a diner. Not a lot of activity. Tangi reminded me of one of those ghost towns where the only signs of life were the dust flying. My hope of snagging a job looked bleak.

Walking down the sidewalk, I accidentally bumped into an elderly woman heading in the opposite direction. Without uttering a word, I caught the ireful glint she’d flashed. My face blushed as I ducked my chin, picking up my pace. I quickly summed up that friendly locals in small towns were a myth.

One glance at the old woman’s glare, and I was inclined to believe that Sara and I had become the towns’ gossip. I reckoned this whistle-stop didn’t see many newcomers like us. We sorta stuck out. Miniskirt-wearing, Sara, and plain-Jane me.

It didn’t take long to cover the small cluster of stores. I think I filled out maybe two applications. Most folks just turned me away. Despite my spiel, convincing these fine hicks of my skills only got me shooed out the door. I reckoned southern hospitality had gone fishin’. Unable to look at another bitter-tasting rejection, I decided to take a break. I sighed, feeling thirsty and crabby.

I knocked the agitated dust off my feet and pressed my way down the sidewalk, wondering where to head next. When my eyes landed on a sign a couple of doors down that read, Mudbug Café, I froze. Crap! That was Sara’s new job. I wanted to avoid Sara at all costs. With my luck, she’d put me on dish duty. I might be a lot of things, but one thing I wasn’t was free!

I glanced across the street and spotted a bookstore. My hope heightened. Quickly, I made a beeline across the street. I didn’t bother looking for cars. The traffic was nonexistent. I spotted a few busted-up whoop-de-dos on threadbare tires. My car should fit in nicely here. That was a big if. Saving money for new tires was an impossible feat. Which meant we were stuck here in the middle of bugsville until otherwise.

When I made it across the street, I stopped, checking out the window’s display. The sign read, Otherworldly. I read out loud. “Astrology, Magic Spells, and Baubles.” How odd, finding a*****e like this in the middle of nowhere.

OtherworldlyI pushed past the door. A bell jingled, announcing my entrance. A rush of incense swirled up my nose, a woodsy smell but a little heavy with the smoke. I coughed, waving at the gray cloud.

I ventured down aisle after aisle, thrumming over the various books. The smell of new books sent waves of excitement through me. I loved curling up in bed on a rainy day with a good book. Gosh, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d bought a new book. My eyes widened with wonder over the vast selection. I noted titles on witchcraft, voodoo, astrology, and new age. There were odd trinkets of all sorts, charms, and other strange emblems. One mysterious item spiked my curiosity, a doll made of simple burlap, ill-matched buttons for eyes, and a black patch in the shape of a heart sown to its chest with zigzag stitches. What possible use would such an ugly doll be for? Usually, I avoided this kind of shop like the bubonic plague. Chills spread over my arms. Strange how the lure of eerie sparked such a deep interest in me, and yet, it frightened me more.

Regretting my egress, I tore myself away from the little corner and headed on my way. I needed a job more than reading books. Just to make myself feel a little better for wasting time, I asked for an application and promised to drop it off first thing in the morning. The clerk informed me that they weren’t hiring, but she’d be glad to keep my application on file. Great! Another rejection. I kindly thanked the lady and headed on my way.

With a ragged sigh, I headed off in the direction of the local newspaper, Tangi News Journal, the last of the great white buffalo, and my last hope. Like most newspapers, I expected they’d have an opening. I was aiming for an inside job. With no transportation, delivering papers was off the table. I pushed past the doubled glass doors as the smell of ink hit my face. My lips pressed into a flat line. This was it. It was do-or-die. Fingers crossed.

* * *

“That went swell!” I mumbled to myself as I left the Journal. Oh, I got the job all right! Just a minor complication. No transportation! I kicked an empty can, heading back to the hotel. I wanted to kick Sara for forcing me to come here! No, I didn’t want to do that either. I wanted to go home back to Texas, back to my old job at the Dairy Queen and my friends. One thing f’sure, I wasn’t in Oz clicking my ruby heels. I slouched my shoulders. I thought about hitchhiking back a million and one times. Between Becky and Laurie, I’d have a place to stay. Their families liked me. I could get a job, save money and by next year, attend college. Become an attorney like Dad. I could get student loans. Hopefully, a scholarship. It was doable.

No transportationThen I thought about Sara, and all my dreams burst like a balloon. I couldn’t leave. I had to stay. Anger swooped in as I kicked a rock this time.

My head had been so far up in the dark clouds that I was right up on the gas station when I finally lifted my gaze. The men had gone, and the station appeared empty. I made my way to one of the chairs under a tree, flopping down and making myself at home. Beads of sweat had collected across my forehead. I’d used the back of my hand to wipe the sweat away. I was a mess. My feet were throbbing as I slipped the shoes off. With open blisters on my heels, the wedges no longer seemed so cute. In a tizzy, I hurled the shoes into an oil puddle. I stared at them for a minute, knowing Sara would blow a cap for ruining her shoes. “Eh!” I shrugged. I didn’t care.

The heat was smothering, like a sauna. My throat was as parched as the dry soil under my feet. I didn’t want to drink the water at the hotel. It was murky and smelled like fish. I dove into my pockets for my change. I hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, though my thirst overrode my hunger. An ice-cold Coke would settle my nerves.

I withdrew my hand from my pocket and looked at the contents, only seventy-five cents. “Crap!” Could my day get any worse? I slammed the coins onto the ground. They bounced with a ding, landing in a pool of oil, along with the shoes. I’d reached my limit. I laid my face into my palms, letting the tears rip.

Unaware how long I’d been sitting there when someone tapped my shoulder, I sat up, startled. I blinked back the blur of tears as my eyes encountered the evil-eyed woman who’d bumped into me earlier. What did she want? I stared back at her in silence.

“How ya are, chile?” The elderly lady whistled through what I assumed were dentures. “Eww wee! You sure do look mighty thirsty.” She handed me a bottle of Coke. Droplets glided down the glass bottle. A good indication it was cold. My eyes rounded.

“Thank you, but I can’t pay you back,” I sniffled. “All I have is a few coins.” I pointed to the quarters in the oil puddle.

The elderly woman waved her hand. “No worry, poupée,” she smiled.

I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. “Thanks.” I hid my gaze under my lashes.

The older woman sat down next to me and unsnapped her faded black purse. She drew out a white-bleached handkerchief. She reached out and handed it to me without a word. My mouth dropped open, unsure if I should take it or decline. My eyes dropped to the monogram initials, F.N. It must be vintage. Only old folks carried cloth handkerchiefs. I wrinkled my nose, hesitating. “Thanks,” I mumbled, accepting her offer. I patted the streaks of tears and wiped my nose delicately. I crumbled the cloth in my fist, unsure of proper etiquette. Did I hand it back to her or return it after I washed it? Getting worked up over a stupid handkerchief, I did what any respectable teenager would do. I tucked it under my leg—outta sight, outta mind, or at least, outta mine. I silently took a drink, feeling uneasy.

I snuck a sideways glance at the elderly lady. Apart from her weird cadence, it was kind of her to buy me a cold drink, but I wasn’t in the mood for company. I wanted to excuse myself, but I didn’t want to be impolite. I decided to chill and play it cool. I shyly smiled up at her through my lashes and took another sip of my drink.

“Where y’at? Ya and ya mama stay at Claude’s hotel?” she smiled warmly.

Her voice carried a twang, making it difficult for me to understand. I just nodded, answering, “Yes, ma’am.” I quickly took a sip of my Coke.

“Ya been job huntin’?”

I scoffed, “Yes, ma’am! Been trying.” I rolled the cold bottle between my palms. The moisture made me think of a refreshing dive in the swimming pool.

“Did ya get hired anywhere?”

“Yes.” I took a third sip.

“That’s good!” She flashed her white dentures.

I detected a little French in her timbre. “Not really,” I cringed. “I can’t take the job.”

“What ya say?” Her white brows knitted.

“The job requires transportation. I don’t have the money to fix our car.” This time, I swigged my drink down in a rush. My lips pinched.

“Bless your heart, chile.”

I shrugged, not making a reply.

A bright smile stretched across the elderly woman’s golden skin. “I think I can help ya. I have customers I gotta look after, but later I’ll be home. Come by after ya rested. Have ya eaten anything today?”

My face flushed, too embarrassed to say. I had to admit that my stomach was starting to gnaw at my insides.

“Ya gotta keep your strength up.” She unsnapped her box-shaped purse. Its black leather was faded, and the edges were well worn. A good indication she wasn’t flushed with cash. When she pulled out a ten-dollar bill and handed it to me, my eyes widened with surprise.

“I can’t take this!” I gasped, lifting my gaze back at her. “Thank you, but I can’t pay the money back.” Taking an old woman’s coins was beyond freeloading. It was downright deplorable.

“If ya insist on makin’ it up to me, I have a small garden ya can help me with.” Her pale blues glistened against her deep caramel skin.

“Uh…” I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t know how to garden.”

“No worry, honeychile. It’s like beans and cornbread,” she laughed as her barrel-shaped body jiggled.

“Do you live around here?” Why was I entertaining the thought? I knew I wasn’t going.

“See down the road? Saint Anne Street,” she pointed down the road.

Blocking the glare from the sun’s blear, I cuffed my hand over my brows. “Oh, I see,” I nodded, catching sight of the green street sign.

“My little house is right down there. It"s the fourth house on the left. Right next ta the vacant house at the end of the street.”

“Okay, thanks! What time?” I made myself smile. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate the woman’s generosity. I was taken aback by her genuine interest in me—a rare act in my life.

She patted me on the back as she gathered to her feet. “Come by my house this evenin’ at six.”

“Okay,” I smiled.

“By the way, I’m Florence Noel. All my friends call me Ms. Noel. Ya can call me that too!” Her smile reached her faint blue eyes.

“I’m Stephanie…” She stopped me in midsentence.

“I know who ya is.” She flashed a mysterious smile. “There ain’t much I miss in these parts. I’ll see ya at six, Stevie. If I were ya, I’d change ‘em shoes.” Her gaze dropped to my feet. “Those buggers are da worst for walkin’.”

“Yes, ma’am, indeed.”

“Oh, I almost forgot! I’ll call down at the newspaper and speak ta Frank, my cousin. I’ll see ya this evening.” A suspicious smile crept across her face.

“Oh, okay.” I didn’t know what to say. I watched as Ms. Noel moseyed along toward downtown. She fit the description of anyone’s grandmother. A plump body, clothed in a loose-fitting blue dress, buttoned up in the front and white nursing shoes, hose rolled up to her knees. She seemed nice enough. I drew in a restless breath. I sure hope this ain’t anything like Hansel and Gretel where the sweet old woman turned into a wicked witch and tried to eat me.