My fingers brushed linen and chiffon, thick cotton and thin silk, testing the subtle differences in texture; in dye; in scent. Boutiques like these usually had hospital-white walls, bad electronica, and thin clothes racks for thinner women. Angeloās was the first shop Iād come across that knew how to make beautiful clothes for bodies and not hangers. It was one of the few places in the city that relaxed me. After the last 3 weeks, I needed some indulgence. Not that I could afford to buy anything right nowāHanz was making us all poorer by the minute. 2 weeks of negotiation had gotten us nowhere.Ā
āSonia, my pet! I didnāt hear you come in.ā Angelo emerged from the back room, crisp and colorful as always.
āHi, Angelo.ā
Angelo Morales attended IFA and lived in Paris for almost a decade until he met his wife, Thiare, at an international soccer tournament. Angelo always looked isosceles-sharpāwhether in a suit or, like now, a meticulously-tailored white t-shirt and colorful pashmina scarf. He had a burst fade, geometric jewelry, pristine white sneakers, and a vampire vibe I could never put my finger on, but very much liked.
āThose heels are recherchĆ©,ā he crooned, touching his knuckle to his chin.Ā
āOh these old things?ā I teased. A little more than a month ago, a shipment of Love 85ās in the ballet-pink suede came into the port. Iād bugged Lear to knock it over like a kid begging for ice cream. āHow have you been, howās Thiare?ā
āIn the depths, where else?ā Angelo gestured with one hand, opening it one curling finger at a time. āThe mining companyās been slave-driving them all down there. Thank the great maker she gets 3 straight days of daylight after the overtime, lest she develop echolocation. But enough about me! Itās been an age, Sonia. What are you on the prowl for?ā
āJust solace, unfortunately. I lost out on a contract I really wanted, so Iāve just been poor and bored.ā I steered the conversation back to his wife, his aging black cat, his fabulously demanding clients. Angelo thought I was a freelance engineer named Sonia, and that was all the detail I wanted him to have. I was content to listen, tucked into his plum-painted store, surrounded by beautiful clothing, not a computer screen or security camera in sight. He had a gentle voice with a gentle accent from his time in France. It always brought my heart-rate down.Ā
āHave you heard about the Godoy bid?ā Angelo asked me, haltingly. His wifeās job was already dangerous and under-regulated. Under Godoy, it would get much worse.
āIām sure he doesnāt stand a chance against President Morena,ā I blurted, though considering this jobās failure to launch, I wasnāt so sure.Ā
āI pray youāre right, dear Sonia,ā he said, like a gothic novel.Ā
Some customer who looked like the rival in a romantic comedy burst in the front door yelling at a cell phone. I gave Angelo a āgood luckā look and excused myself so he could play salesman. After drooling over a sheer knit asym dress, I jingled out of the shop, feeling a bit forlorn. I came to sigh through the aisles while the gang was deep in recon. All Iād done the past few weeks was go between Lear and Hanz. My laptop was with me, and for a moment I considered taking a left at the next street, towards the brewery. I didnāt have to be there to do the āfundraising,ā of course, but I could use it as an excuse.
A pretty pathetic excuse, I told myself. Better to take the short walk back to La Mesa than parade my face across town for no good reason. With a sigh, I shouldered my bag and went right.Ā
The walk from Angeloās to my apartment was particularly cozy. I wound up and down narrow, cracked concrete back-streets; crouched to scratch a warm, fat, sun-soaked cat; ran my fingers on the chain-link fence guarding a jungle of fragrant plants in crumbling pots. I arrived at the restaurantās rear entrance 7 minutes later without being seen by a single soul. The bike was parked in the alley outside, idle since its disastrous maiden voyage. I must have stalled it out 20 times before I finally got it home, a back-and-forth of weaving and jerking it about 100 feet before jumping off in terror and pushing it up hills, steaming in my own sweat.Ā
Pia was with her dad this weekend and Paula was wrapping up a lunch rush, so I snuck up to my room unnoticed. At my door, I switched off the motion detectors and switched on the lights. compared the room to this morningās pano photo. The same messy makeshift kitchen, marshmallow armchair, and mussed sheets on my double bed. No errors found. I peeled off my recherchĆ© heels and checked whatsapp.
Cat: U.H. You want to go out to Cumming tonight?
U.H.: i always wanna go out cumming
U.H.: but nah im gon see jordy hes letting me fuck w old military sht they got up there
Cat: For the job?
U.H.: naw bitch 4fun :v: :yum: :kissing_heart:
d0m1n0: Be careful in those things, the Gs are no joke.
U.H.: awwwwwwww deeeee u worried abt me? :smile_cat: :yum:Ā
d0m1n0: Of course I am
U.H.: wwwwwwwww ddddddddddd :zany_face: :weary: :nerd:
Unsure how to come back from :zany_face: :weary: :nerd:, I went to my desk, returning to the polymorphic infiltration code on my PC. Iād been poking and prodding at it since Lear told me the plan, determined to be useful. We shouldnāt need it, but this headache with Hanz had me anxious. My heart rate fluctuated with every error and oversight I came across. Fixing them improved my mood until I imagined all the mistakes I may have missed. Rinse and repeat. Compulsive, and exhausting, butĀ it wasnāt like I had anything better to do.Ā
When I next checked my system clock, I got whiplash. It was almost 7PMā4 hours had passed, and the empty espresso mug on my desk represented every calorie Iād consumed today. I forced myself up from my computer chair and stretched, groaning.Ā
Because my apartment was just the master suite of Paulaās residence, I didnāt have a kitchen; just a mini-fridge, a microwave, my moka pot, a hot-plate, and a side table that served as a pantry. Considering my diet of coffee and street food, it usually wasnāt a problem. Sadly, all the fridge had on offer right now were some moldy leftovers pushed to the back. Maybe Paula would have something I could snack on and I wouldnāt have to go out. After a quick makeup check, I went through the exit sequence: pano photo; motion camera activation; wallet, keys and phone distributed among the pockets of my jeans. Stepping my heels back on, I locked the door behind me. Downstairs I found Paula deep in a dinner rush, so the convenience store across the street would have to do. I snuck out through the back.
P.S. Iām seeking beta-readers! Leave a comment or DM me if youāre interested.
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