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After the embarassing incident with her mom, Angela needed an excuse to get out of the house for a while. Throwing on a pair of cut-offs and a T-shirt, she grabbed the car keys off the counter. "I'm going to Ricky's to pick up my computer."
"Knock, knock."
"Oh, hey, Angela! Your computer's right here. Let me help you take it to your car."
Angela noticed Ricky was wearing only a T-shirt and long flannel shorts -- probably what he'd slept in the night before. "No, that's okay. You're not even dressed."
"Don't worry about it. Come on. I'll get the computer, you get all the cables and stuff."
Before she could protest further, Ricky jumped up from his chair, bounced across the room, hefted the computer tower into his arms, and glided down the hall out of sight.
Angela bent down and began picking up all the cables. I probably didn't need to bring all these, she thought. As she stood up to leave, she noticed the poster-sized drawing pad sheet taped to the back of the door. It was a comic book panel much like others Ricky had drawn, a finished pencil. But this one was different, drawn with more passion. And it was unmistakably Sapphire.
She studied the drawing carefully. A smoothly chiseled woman with both a body and a costume that defied physics -- impossibly long legs, wasp waist, and hugely perfect chest, with a top and skirt that were both painted on and falling off all at once. Great smoothly billowing sail-like wings behind her, she was crouched with one muscular-yet-feminine leg bent to a squat underneath her, the other leg pointed straight behind her, edges of the skirt still windswept upward. A great swoosh arc marked this as a powerfully-perfect landing from the roof of an exaggerated-perspective building in the background. Her hair drew out and back from her face like a black fiery corona, with a bright tiara nestled in the center. Short glow-lines fanned out from small orbs on the top of each foot and the back of each hand. One arm cocked at her side with hand balled into a fist, ready to strike; the other outstretched ahead and out, palm forward, fingers splayed, a bright glow around the hand and focused into a beam striking a muscular male in the foreground in the chest, his whole body arched backward with the force of the blow, hair whipping around a tortured face. Three other would-be attackers surrounded the descended warrior-vixen, all taking a step back in fear. To one side in the background, a lightpost with a slender figure tied to it, and a menacing overbuilt man, muscles rippling, facial expression burning with anger.
But what most caught Angela's eye was the heroine's face. Impossibly-detailed eyes, almost Japanese Anime in artistic style, burned white-hot with vengeful power, thin brows arched in an expression of... righteous displeasure. The nose, cheeks, chin all too familiar despite the exaggerated style. It was her.
Ricky had caught Sapphire in action, and if not exactly as it happened (Angela recalled her somewhat-less-graceful landing with a shake of her head) it certainly captured all that she hoped Sapphire could be -- a brilliant shining icon of feminine grace and control, pushing back the ugly forces of evil. It was breathtaking.
The door moved toward her suddenly; she fell back to sit on the bed. Ricky's head popped into view. "What's taking you so..." he saw the stunned look on her face, her eyes darting back and forth between him and...
Ricky quickly opened the door all the way, obscuring his artwork as he stepped into the room. "You weren't supposed to see that," he said sheepishly. "It's, um, not finished."
"Oh, Rick..." Sapphire said, awestruck, "... it's... amazing." She kicked the door closed, her eyes longingly tracing the expertly-formed graphic elements and lingering on the idealistic image of her alter ego. "If only I really looked like that," she whispered.
Rick's embarassment at being "caught" using Angela's face faded as she saw how taken she was with his work, his confidence so boosted he didn't catch exactly what she'd said. Then his modesty kicked back in and he took advantage of the opportunity to deflect attention from himself. "Don't be silly," he said, "you look great. That's just a comic book heroine. They all look like that."
"But I-... she's so beautiful and strong at the same time..." Angela was clearly moved; Rick had never seen her react this way to his art before; then again, he'd never drawn her, or at least her face, before.
"Don't you see yourself that way?"
"But that's not me, that's not how it happened." Angela felt ashamed at how short she really fell from the spirit of this mythic ideal she so wanted to be.
"Well I'm sorry I used your face, Angela. I didn't mean anything by it. I- I mean, I didn't expect you to see it. I- I mean, I didn't mean to hurt your feelings," Ricky stammered. Then he looked at her, puzzled. "And what do you mean, that's not how it happened?"
"I, um, well, I mean, I -- talked to her on the phone last night, an-and she told me what happened."
Ricky took a seat on the corner of the dresser, looking up at the drawing. "That's how Jim described it to me last night."
"Well, Jim was exaggerating."
"I don't think so. Jim doesn't tell stories. That," he said, gesturing to the artwork as he looked in Angela's eyes, "is straight from his mouth to my pencil. I didn't believe it at first, but I've never heard Jim so serious before. And Jim's no bullshitter to begin with."
"You weren't there," Angela said simply.
"Neither were you."
Angela broke her gaze, looking down at her shoes. Yes, I was, she thought, but I can't tell you that. I was there. That's me. Or it was me. Or it was what I could have been.
A tear slid gently down her cheek.
"What's wrong?" Ricky said softly. He bent down on a knee in front of her, looking up into Angela's sad, distant eyes. "Is it the drawing?" She shook her head. "Did something happen? Did Sapphire get hurt?" She shook her head again, fighting back tears. "I-It's nothing," she whispered, afraid her voice would betray her.
"Tell me," Ricky pleaded. He hated to see his friend like this. She was like a big sister to him, and something else too.
"I can't," she said softly, regaining her composure. "I'll be fine. Really."
Ricky cast a disbelieving look but backed off. "Okay, well if you need me I'm here." He stood up.
"Ricky, why did you use me? In the drawing?"
"Your face is really easy to draw." Oh, that was a stupid thing to say, Ricky. Tell her why...
That wasn't the answer Angela expected. What answer did she expect? "Oh. Oh, I see."
Come on Ricky, tell her she doesn't see. Tell her it's because you've memorized her face. Tell her she's beautiful and you can't stop staring at her picture. No, don't scare her, don't freak her out like you did that girl Becky. But she's not like Becky, she's older, and anyway this isn't like Becky, this is different... but you don't want to blow it. Don't blow it.
"I mean, beauty is always easy to draw," he finally said, carefully using a carefree, nonchalant tone. "You're not mad, are you kiddo?" He leaned over and socked her gently on the arm.
Tension broken, Angela smiled. "Naw, of course not. I'm flattered, really. It's just weird seeing my face on... Sapphire's body. Well, not even Sapphire's body, but I mean it's supposed to be her, or at least what she did. Only it's not. I mean, it's an exaggerated superhero version of what she did."
"Like I said, from Jim's mouth to my pencil. He swore she just flew in out of nowhere, and..."
"I'm sure he meant 'jumped'," Angela interrupted as she stood up, staring at the penciled image. All the details were right -- the wings, the heels, the wrist cuffs, the gems, the tiara, the heavy makeup -- had her clothes really been that revealing, or was that just artistic license? -- was Jimmy studying her that closely?
"No, no, I asked him that. He said she flew like thirty feet from the top of the bowling alley down to the parking lot. And a bunch of Dirk's teammates were there, waiting for her. They didn't even really care about Jim. And she just started kicking their asses *without* *even* *touching* *them*..." Ricky's eyes sparkled as he told the amazing tale.
"Maybe that's how it looked from where Jim was standing, but really she just used her... Eye-keedough training to use their strength against them. You know, like that tall jowly guy who always looks like he just smelled something bad... Sam Seagull.. no, that's not it... um..."
"You mean Steven Segal. No, this was something else. This was impossible."
"Well, Ricky, if this picture is really how it happened, how could Jimmy know whether she touched him or not? I mean look here, Jimmy's behind her, and she's hitting the guy in front of her. How could he tell?"
"She knocked them all down, Angela. It was like bowling with an invisible ball. You're friend's a lot more than a fancy combat-acrobat, girl."
"But it was dark..."
"Jimmy was tied to a lamppost! And that whole place is lit up to keep bums from going up there and breaking in and setting up apartments in the scoring booths. But that's not the best part."
"Sapphire tackling football players from ten yards away isn't the best part of the story," Angela sounded incredulous.
Ricky raised an eyebrow. He didn't say anything about tackling from ten yards away. So she knew... which meant Sapphire must have told it that way, which... just meant Angela was covering for her, which didn't really mean anything. Anyway...
"No, it's not. After she untied Jimmy, she knocked over the lightpole right onto Tree, the huge guy."
"So?"
"So have you ever leaned up against one of those lightpoles? She bent it like a straw, just tapping it with her foot."
"Maybe it was already bent," Angela offered.
"Yeah, right. Jimmy couldn't budge it."
"Jimmy's not the beefiest cake ever baked."
"Fine, but neither is Sapphire. The tastiest, maybe, but..."
"Who, Sapphire, or Jimmy?" Angela teased, hoping to sidetrack the story.
"Sapphire, silly. I told you Jimmy and I are just friends. I'm not like that. Anyway, this isn't one of those breakaway poles, this is old-fashion ribbed steel cut-a-car-in-half stuff. And it just snapped. But that's not the best part."
"I don't think I can take any more of this," Angela rolled her eyes.
"Come on, Angela, didn't she tell you any of this?"
"Well, not in such fantastical terms. She said the bolts were loose and rusty. She just gave it a good shove, that's all."
"Fine, whatever. So here comes the best part. After she hits Tree with the lightpole, she tells Raymond to leave Jimmy alone, but he just goes after her. She backs up to the front entrance, he goes to tackle her, and... it was so cool! he just bounced right off her like he hit a brick wall. Knocked him loopy! That's when it hit home, that Sapphire was there to kick ass and take names! Raymond starts running..."
"In the first place, she probably just ducked out of the way and he hit the door," Angela started.
"Nuh-uh," Ricky rebuffed. "Lightning Ray? He never misses a tackle."
"But as you keep saying she's no ordinary girl."
"Damn right. She just stood there, and he just Smack! bounced right off the glass."
"The glass door."
"No! The forcefield she threw up. There was this flash of light and everything. And he started backing away, but she *flew* over his head and landed right in front of him, blocking his escape."
Angela had to nip this in the bud, even if she wasn't exactly sure what really happened herself -- she'd clamped her eyes shut. "A flash of light? All right, how did Jimmy see all of this? I thought he took off running."
Again Ricky's brow arched. "How'd you know that? I didn't say that."
Oops. "But that's what happened, isn't it? You didn't say 'that's not what happened,' you said 'how'd you know that?' Jimmy turned tail and ran. As anybody would have if they'd been tied up and beaten and then released while his attackers were momentarily distracted." Angela pressed the matter, hoping Ricky would back down and maybe doubt at least some of his friend's fantastic (but true) story. After all, she *was* there, and she knew Jimmy took off running and couldn't have seen what happened to Raymond. Wait a minute, if Jimmy really *didn't* see what happened, how did Ricky know?
Ricky stammered, "Well, um, yeah. Jimmy said he took off running, but I guess he stopped and looked from a distance."
"Really," Angela said, now intrigued. "And what happened next?"
"Ray went running down the sidewalk, and Sapphire like tripped him up a little, but he made it to his car, a couple of the others got in, and they took off."
"And Jimmy saw all of this from the other side of the parking lot." I didn't see him there, she thought.
"Um, yeah."
"Well that's not what Sapphire said happened."
"But that's what happened. And then she jumped up in the air and flew off after them."
"You don't know that. Jimmy could be making it all up. It was a scary situation, that affects the way people remember stuff. You don't know what happened, you weren't there."
Ricky bowed his head. "But I *was* there," he said quietly, ashamed.
"Ricky!" Angela scolded. "You were not!" She held her tongue; she'd almost said "I didn't see you there."
"I was. I pedaled over there on my bike. I was down on the sidewalk by the street; the streetlight's out. I brought my baseball bat," he said, motioning to the aluminum bat in the corner, "just in case."
"In case what?"
"In case she didn't show. I wouldn't have blamed her. It was obviously a set-up. I didn't know what they were going to do to Jimmy if she didn't. I didn't want to tell you because I knew you'd be mad."
"It's good that you stick up for your friends, but it was still stupid. You should have just called the police."
"Yeah, and have my dad find out my best friend's a fruit, and he'll never let me talk to him again. Then where would Jimmy be?"
"He'd be alive, and so would you. There's a time to stand up for yourself, and there's a time to know when you're in over your head and you need help."
Ricky looked her in the eye. "That's why I called you. To call Sapphire. To warn her. And then you said you'd see what she wanted to do, I thought she might go there and need some help."
"Ricky, Sapphire is a..." almost said 'superheroine,' "...an expert in self-defense who can take care of herself. You're just a boy." Ricky was hurt by that.
"Yeah, well, I feel responsible. I got you- I mean her into this mess. And I don't even know her."
"Well, as I guess you *saw* she took care of things, didn't she?"
"I'll say! I had no idea she was a superhero."
Angela made an effort to roll her eyes. "You're not still giving me that flying and forcefield crap are you?"
"I was there, I know what I saw."
"From fifty yards, maybe. You can't be sure of anything from that far away."
"Fifty yards isn't that far. I know what I saw. At least I was there. You can't say anything. I mean, your friend would have good reason to lie about her 'powers,' and you'd have good reason to cover for her. How well do you know her?"
That came out of nowhere. Did Ricky recognize her? How could he not? Her face suddenly got hot. No, please tell me you haven't figured it out, Ricky. "Wh-what do you mean?"
"I mean, do you know about her powers?"
"No. And I still don't believe it," she bluffed. "I think you and Jimmy read too many comic books." She forced a giggle as she pointed at the drawing on the door. "I think you're starting to believe your own fantasies."
Ricky grunted. "I know what I saw, Angela, even from that far away. And Jimmy knows what he saw. You laugh now, but you'll see. Ask her about her powers. See what she says."
"I'm not going to ask her about her super-powers. That's ridiculous. She'll think I've lost my marbles." Her mom said that all the time.
"Fine. So I'm nuts. Jimmy's nuts. We're both nuts." She could tell he was a little mad. "Here's your cables. Go set up your computer before it's too late to call me for help. My dad's taking me to the ballgame tonight."
Angela apologized. "I'm sorry, Ricky, I'm not calling you a liar, it's just kind of hard to believe. I mean, maybe there's another explanation."
"I *know* what I saw," he said firmly. "Call me later," he said as a way of ushering her out.
Angela took one last look at the drawing before opening the door and making her exit. If only she *were* the superheroine Ricky saw, the strong always-in-control super-girl that Ricky drew, instead of the weak and careless bimbo who couldn't even control her own sexual urges. If Ricky knew the whole truth he would be crushed.
"How ironic," she said to herself as she backed out of Ricky's driveway, "I gain a fan at the same time I lose most of my powers." A situation she was determined to fix.
"Sorry, Angela, they're out of business." Her ISP.
"But they can't! My uncle paid for a whole year ahead of time!"
"Well they are. Let me do a little searching and I'll find a new one for you. This time, don't pay in advance."
"Well, shoot. That means I still can't get my mail."
Ricky reassurred her. "Relax. I'll find one tonight and email -- sorry, habit -- call you tomorrow morning. Sorry I didn't think to test it while I was here, or I would have hooked you onto my network and you could have checked it before you left."
"No, that wouldn't have worked anyway. I need my privacy." If Ricky saw Scott asking her about the gems, he'd certainly put two and two together. And if Scott asked her for something else, well... Angela blushed at the thought of Ricky finding out what she'd done for Scott in the past. Even chat-sex was embarassing.
"Oh, hey, I forgot to ask you earlier," she added, "have Dirk and Raymond given you or Jimmy any more trouble?"
"No. But that doesn't mean anything. They go days, sometimes weeks of leaving you alone, then one day their girlfriend won't blow them and they've got to find some other way to release their frustrations..."
"...so they go looking for someone who's gay -- tell me *that* doesn't mean anything," Angela said dryly.
"Funny thing is Jim used to have a crush on Dirk; if Dirk would have asked for a blowjob instead of being one he'd be satisfied by now."
Angela laughed out loud. It felt good.
"You sound like you're in a good mood," Ricky said when she'd quieted down. "Listen, you owe me dinner for fixing your computer. How about Friday?"
Friday. Her "date" with Josh. Two days away. Her mood suddenly darkened.
"Sorry, honey, I already have plans, and I can't break them. Believe me, I would if I could. I'd much rather have dinner with you."
"Really?" Ricky perked up. "So how about Saturday night?"
She didn't mean to give him the brush-off, but she knew that's how it sounded. "I can't Saturday night either. But next week for sure. Honest."
"Okay, but for waiting that long, it better be good!"
"It will be, Ricky."
It'll be heaven compared to an evening with Josh.
"Two days. I've got to figure out what I'm going to wear." She looked in her closet in disgust. She would have to make something up. Maybe she could stay after work tomorrow and borrow some of the patterns as a starting point. She eyed the outfit she'd borrowed from Josh's sister's closet. "Or I'll be stuck wearing that again." That was NOT going to happen.
"I wonder if Wonder Woman ever had to go through anything like this for her amulets..."
Valerie Strain scanned the contents of her underwear drawer carefully. "Bobby, you dope, if you're going to go rifling through my underwear you could at least learn how to re-fold it." Of course, it might not be Bobby; it might be Spence or TJ, and they'd probably want her to know they were looking through her things to intimidate her. Under different circumstances it might work -- JT would as soon beat the crap out of you as smile at you -- but if her find was worth as much as she thought it might be, she wasn't about to let them take it from her.
After all, the only reason they'd been behind that club in the first place was because she'd spent weeks trying to get Bobby to take her there, and finally convinced them that there might be some worthwhile marks in the parking lot. When that angel chick dropped in out of the sky, busted them up, then took off and crash-landed in the park, the boys had been so anxious to gang-bang her they'd completely forgotten about the megawatt jewelry she'd been wearing. If they'd even noticed it in the first place. She'd been posted at the other end of the alley, stealing quick glances to monitor the boys' progress fleecing drunk clubgoers while she stood lookout, and she'd noticed them. Rocks like those kind of demanded attention. But boys being boys they were probably more interested in her charms than her baubles. They certainly took off like a pack of dogs in heat after she'd smacked them around. And they wasted no time gathering her up, tossing her in the van, and racing over to Bobby's place to fuck her brains out, completely forgetting Valerie standing in an alley behind a club at 1 A.M. some fifteen miles from home without so much as bus fare.
It was Valerie, with more sense than the three boys combined, who noticed the heavenly attacker had lost her gloves when she knocked Bobby and Spence silly. It was Valerie who recovered those gloves and the big fat glimmering gemstones attached to them. It was Valerie who thought to check the park for any valuables the fallen angel might have left behind and picked up a third stone. It was Valerie who'd had to give some shit-faced fake-Armani-wearing asshole a handjob in exchange for a ride home. (He'd been so out of it she'd wound up working his little pecker for a half-hour before he finally shot his load; her hand had been sore for two days afterward.)
And it wasn't really Bobby's place anyway, considering it was her job that actually paid the rent, a shipping-clerk job she'd worked hard at until Bobby's idiotic friends had gotten her fired. Spence had this *brilliant* idea that they could fake package shipments from Val's work and then call up FedEx to complain the package never got delivered and collect the insurance.
So it would be Valerie who profited from those big blue facets of permanent ice. Bobby wouldn't cross her, and Spence would look to TJ, and TJ could fuck himself.
Valerie emptied the drawer and pulled up the false bottom, revealing $150 in cash (the remains of her last paycheck) and a pair of folded-up black velvet panties. "They liked the drug dealer in 'American Beauty' enough, you'd think they would have checked for a false drawer bottom," she mused, knowing they were too stupid to learn anything useful from a movie, especially a movie watched while stoned. Valerie pulled out the panties, briefly checked the stones inside, then carefully reassembled the drawer and its contents in the beat-up old particle-board nightstand. She stuffed the package in her jacket pocket and headed out. With any luck, she'd be back before Bobby got back from TJ's, and he'd be too drunk to put up much of a fight when she kicked his sorry ass out.
Valerie fought the urge to pick at the expensive watch on her wrist. Christy was right; you could wear just about anything, as long as you wore an expensive watch.
"How... strange." He peered through the eyepiece, bewilderment smoothing his squint. He squinted some more. "Remarkable," he said quietly, obviously thinking better of it.
This was the part where he lied and told her it was cheap junk, but then he'd reconsider and even though it wasn't the kind of thing they sold in this shop, it was well-made for a fake and since he knew she didn't want to suffer any further embarassment at her husband's insulting bauble he'd give her $100 for it in consideration of future business.
"Well, madam, this is most definitely *not* a sapphire," he said smugly, the corners of his mouth betraying excitement.
"It's not?" Valerie tried to hide her lack of surprise.
"No, it is a *synthetic* crystal, grown in a laboratory." He pronounced it lub-oratree. "It's quite good as these things go, but your husband was more likely to have purchased it on a Home Shopping Channel than from a legitimate jeweler." His calculated derision was nearly matched by his tickling enthusiasm for conning a stupid thief.
But Valerie had been on her own since fourteen and she could read people like a book. She had no intention of selling the gems to the first loupe-eyed asshole she met. She just wanted corroboration that they weren't trinkets, and now she had it.
"However, I would be willing..." he began, barely containing his excitement.
"Thank you for your time," she said abruptly, cutting him off. She held out her hand expectantly.
"I understand, madam. You are not the first beautiful woman I've counseled on her husband's lack of taste. Might I suggest..."
"I'm not selling them to you," she cut him off again.
He began sputtering, taken aback at her sudden terseness. "I... I was only trying to be *helpful*."
"Thanks for the help, now give me my 'worthless' rocks and I won't waste any more of your time." She made a quick "here" motion with the fingers of her outstretched hand. The jeweler reluctantly placed the stones back in her hand. Before he could manage an indignant put-down she'd turned on her heel and left. His gaze lingered on her tight hip-hugger jeans.
Well, they weren't glass, Valerie thought as she wadded the gems up in the velvet underwear and stuffed it in the pocket of her jacket. They were worth holding onto until she could figure out how to sell them properly. The fences she knew through the boys were strictly low-rent.
"Oh, miss!" she heard as she was halfway across the street. Damn, they must be worth something if he was willing to chase her into the street...
She spun around. "WHAT?" she shouted, shooting him a look that could kill.
Loud noise -- car horn! Like a deer, she stopped, turning to look in the metal missile's direction.
A pale yellow thing. Old. European. Awkward shape. What's it say on the grille? SCAB? SAAB. Saab?
The driver was visibly upset about something. Or he was constipated. His amber-tinted oversized sunglasses were horribly out of fashion.
The bumper seemed awfully close. The hood was long and smooth. Paint dulled and uneven from this close.
Dash was cracked. She was up on the hood now. Crunching sound.
Then sky. Approaching pavement. And blackness.
Valerie shook her head, clearing the cobwebs. Someone was standing over her. "Are you all right?" He looked like a whitebread suburbanite, scared out of his mind. The kind of guy she'd love to take to the cleaners, but she was stunned out of character by what had just happened. She did a silent inventory of any pain she was feeling; aside from a general buzz, she felt nothing. Must be adrenaline, she thought. But as she began exploratory movements, determining her body's present geometry and arranging to get up, the expected shooting pains never came and before she or the panicked driver by her side fully realized it, she was on her feet.
Valerie looked herself over. Her jeans were ripped in several places -- besides those dictated by her own fashion sense -- but her finger probe returned with no blood or even skin abrasions. Her T-shirt was similarly scarred and her shoulders underneath similarly unaffected. How... odd! Still partly in shock, Valerie shrugged off the driver's feeble attempts to get her to agree to a hospital visit "just in case." Giving all of her limbs a test shimmy, she determined that all was well. "No, really, I'm okay. You just nicked me. Don't worry about it," she insisted. As if to punctuate her position, she dusted herself off and began walking off across the park.
The stunned driver scratched his head as he watched the tall slender teen punk recede into the foliage. He looked back at the front of his car -- it looked like he'd hit a sport utility vehicle, not a surly urban vixen. A headlight was smashed, the grille crushed in, the bumper ripped, and the hood wrinkled and partially collapsed. He couldn't help but double-take the girl as she broke into a jog.
"What am I going to tell the adjuster?"
Valerie had been hit by a car before -- the bump in the middle of her left clavicle a permanent reminder -- and knew what post-impact shock was like. This wasn't it. She felt electric, not numb. Wow, what a stroke of luck. No, not luck. Something else. She paused in the park to check the gems -- all present and accounted for, no scrapes. Just like her. And they seemed to be almost glowing in the mid-day sun. She held one up, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. She turned it around and watched the way its facets caught the light. No, it wasn't just catching the light, it was actually glowing! Just like they had been that night in the alley...
She gripped them tightly in her palm; they felt warm. *She* felt warm. Like she did when she thought about sex with Nina... she chased that thought out of her head. Stay in the present. These stones were definitely worth keeping for a while.
Valerie jammed the gems back into her pocket and loped across the park to the bus stop.