Мишель Роуэн - Angel with Attitude

She and Reggie were getting out of the cab when Becky emerged from the building. She noticed Val and gave a nod before locking the door behind her. She was dressed in an expensive-looking business suit and her bright red hair was back in a smooth ponytail. She held a teacup Chihuahua under one arm. The Chihuahua wore a diamond studded collar that looked more expensive than Becky’s suit.

The little dog growled at Reggie who was currently in Val’s arms, and he took the opportunity to snuggle closer into her chest.

“Hey Val,” Becky greeted her with a smile. “Good to see you. What’s up?”

Val mirrored her smile, though it felt very forced. “Going somewhere?”

“Yeah, the car’s here to take us to the airport. We’re off to Disneyland at her majesty’s command. As if she hasn’t already been there twice this year. That little girl is crazy. They honestly don’t pay me enough for this job.”

Val let out a long sigh of relief. Talk about timing! Another few minutes and she would have been too late. “Listen, Becky. I need five minutes with Seraphina before you leave.”

“Sorry, no can do.”

“What?” Val’s entire body tensed up. “It’s really important or I wouldn’t ask. I know she’s very busy. I get it. But, this is a matter of life and death. To put it extremely mildly.”

“Valerie, melodrama doesn’t suit you. I should know. I get melodrama nine hours a day from her majesty and her majesty’s mother. Now I’m going to get melodrama twenty-four seven for a week while we’re at the so-called happiest place on earth. Somebody just shoot me now and put me out of my misery.”

“Just five minutes. Please Becky. I will owe you one. I’ll even go out with your brother.” Val paused, thinking about the geeky amateur wizard who seemed to drool profusely whenever he saw her. “Probably. Maybe. I’ll consider going out with your brother. To a movie. Then straight home. Separately.”

Becky smiled again and it looked tired. “I would if I could, really. I’m not just trying to be difficult. It’s just that Seraphina and her mother already left.”

Val eyed the limo. “Then what . . . what is this for?”

“For me.”

Val gaped at her.

She shrugged. “Okay, it’s really for Fifi—” she indicated the Chihuahua —“but I get to go along for the ride.”

“She’s gone?”

“Sorry. Incommunicado. Besides, she can’t do any of her stuff unless she’s in person.”

Val burst into tears.

Becky looked stricken. “Oh . . . no, don’t cry.”

She took deep choking breaths while trying to compose herself. “I . . . don’t know . . . what to do.”

Becky patted Val’s shoulder. “I wish I could help.” She waited for Val to calm down, and then gave her a bright smile. “Listen, if what you need is really that urgent, you could always use Psychic Bob down the street next to the Movieland Wax Museum. Ten bucks a reading.”

Her grin widened. “I’m kidding, of course.”

Twenty minutes later, Val sat on the other side of a dirty crystal ball and Psychic Bob. She didn’t have a penny to her name after she’d paid the cab driver, so she had to force Reggie to do some rat tricks on the corner for spare change from the tourists. Made $12.51. She wasn’t sure who gave them the penny, though. That was just an insult.

She handed ten of their earnings over to Psychic Bob.

“So,” Psychic Bob said, his voice gruff and effeminate at the same time. He looked like a truck driver but sounded like he might know what wine would go best with beef bourguignonne. “What can I help you with today? Simple tarot card reading? Want to know when you’ll meet your true love? Career questions? Ask me anything, honey. I’m here to help.”

Val folded her hands and leaned over the table toward him. “I need you to channel an angel named Garry, assistant guardian of the gates to Heaven. And please hurry. This is a major emergency.”

He blinked. “Sweetie, if you have an emergency I have a phone in the back. You can call

911.”

“It’s not an emergency those people can help me with.”

“Garry, you say.”

“That’s right.”

“Guardian of the gates to Heaven.”

“Assistant guardian. Don’t try to make him sound more important than he is—his ego is big enough already. Really he’s just like a glorified receptionist. But I need to talk to him.”

She’d placed Reggie gently down on the tabletop and he lay down. He’d decided not to be a part of this conversation and that was probably for the best. Psychic Bob looked uncomfortable enough without having to deal with a talking rat.

He stared at her. Bob, not the rat. Then, without another word he got out his tarot cards and shuffled them. He laid them out in a cross pattern on the table, narrowly avoiding hitting

Reggie, who had to sidestep out of the way.

Psychic Bob nodded and looked up at her. “I see romance in your future. Great adventure and exciting times lay ahead for you.”

“Didn’t you hear me? I don’t want a card reading. I want you to channel Garry—”

“Assistant guardian to the gates of Heaven. Yeah, I heard you. But I think this is better. Don’t you want to know what your future holds?

Val sighed. “I already know what my future holds. Bad things if I don’t speak to Garry.”

“You paid ten dollars for a reading.”

“I don’t have time for a reading. Didn’t you hear me say that this is an emergency?”

Psychic Bob stood up and pointed at the door. “Go.”

“Pardon me?”

“Go,” he said with his teeth clenched. “I don’t have time for crazy people.”

“Crazy people?” Val exclaimed. “I am not crazy.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You must be. You come in here talking nonsense, carrying that flea-ridden creature—”

“Hey!” Reggie said.

Val coughed to cover the sound of Reggie’s protest. “Just listen to me. I’m not crazy. I’m a fallen angel who needs to talk to the assistant guardian of the gates to Heaven so I can prevent a demon from bringing about the end of the world. Do you hear me? The end of the world!

What sounds crazy about that?”

“All of it.”

“You’re a fallen angel?” Reggie said. “You didn’t tell me that.”

Val sighed. “When we first met I told you I was from Heaven.”

“So you’re trying to tell me that that’s definitely not a strip club?”

“Did the rat just talk?” Bob asked.

“Yeah, but he’s not really a . . . oh, never mind. I don’t have time for this. I need to find that demon. Look, I need a psychic. A good psychic to help me out here. I can’t do this by myself.”

“What gives you the impression that I’m a psychic?” Psychic Bob asked.

“Uh . . . your name. Your storefront. The crystal ball and tarot cards on your table.”

“Oh, those . . . those are just things. Look”—he felt under the table and pulled out a book, Tarot Cards: The Easy Way!—“I’m faking it. I’ll admit it. I’m a big, fat fake. It’s good money from the tourists and I’m currently between acting gigs. So sue me.”

“You’re a fake?”

He scrambled in his pockets to give Val back her money. “Take this, go somewhere else. We can just pretend this never happened. You don’t tell anybody that I’m a fraud, and I don’t tell anybody that you’re completely insane. Deal?”

“I’m not insane.”

“Honey, listen to yourself. I don’t know what happened to you that you believe all of this, but angels don’t really exist. Demons definitely don’t exist. And, to be quite frank with you, all psychics are frauds. The world is a dull, normal, nonmagical place, and that’s exactly how I want it to stay.”