LLOYD, PAUL R. (11 page)

“What kind of creature?” Barbara
asked.

Micah marveled at the way Barbara’s
red freckles complemented her hair. “An exceptionally tall faerie.”

“He’s a gay angel?” Barbara blushed.

“No, the other kind of faerie with
the gossamer wings.” Micah caught a look from Bob. “What’s wrong?”

Bob put his plate down. “He has
wings?”

“Either he has wings or I have
hallucinations.” Micah turned back to Barbara.

Barbara blushed again. “You’ve been
staring at me.” She bit into a large dill pickle. “You on pervert medication?”
Barbara smiled, but did not avert her eyes from Micah’s.

“No. I’m saying he flies by my window
early every morning.”

“Here in Oak Brook?” Barbara asked.

“Not yet. I’m talking about my
house in Naperville.” Micah continued to lock eyes with Barbara while taking a
forkful of potato salad.

Bob said. “This proves it. Ahlman
is an angel.”

Micah broke eye contact with
Barbara. “You give me that angel crap again and I’ll scream.”

“I understand you believe Ahlman is
no angel,” said Bob. “But you realize no one else in Naperville agrees with
you.”

“Yeah. Kinda weird, don’t you
think?” Micah stabbed at the potato salad again.

“Why’s that so weird?” Barbara stared
at Micah over her bottle of Guinness.

“For any phenomena, you have a
group of believers, a group of deniers and a group that can’t make up its mind
or could care less. How come I’m the only one who doesn’t believe Ahlman is an
angel?” Micah opened a can of beer.

A twinkle formed in Barbara’s eyes.
“You’re the only pervert in town? Sorry. Couldn’t resist.”

Bob scooped a pile of potato salad onto
his plate. “You have a point, Micah. He should have enemies besides you. If
he’s an angel, why aren’t there demons to fight?”

Micah smiled and leaned back in his
chair so that the two front legs rose off the maroon carpet. “And if he’s a
demon, where are the angels?”

“I don’t like to think about demons
and angels,” Barbara said.

“I do.” Bob continued to stack his
plate with food.

“Barbara, if you’re not a believer,
how come you believe Ahlman is an angel?” Micah asked.

Barbara sat back in her chair and stared
at the ceiling for a brief moment. She lowered her head and brushed some crumbs
from her lap. “I don’t know.” She raised her head to meet Micah’s eyes. “He
just is. It’s not about belief. With him I know he’s an angel.”

“An honest to goodness spirit sent
from God in heaven?” Micah placed his hand on the back of Barbara’s chair.

Barbara leaned forward but
continued to hold eye contact with Micah. “I guess. If that’s where angels come
from.”

“So you sort of believe in God and
flat out believe in Ahlman one hundred percent?” Micah slid his hand closer to
Barbara along the back of the chair.

“Yeah. Why is that, do you suppose?”
Barbara did not move.

“Does he have some kind of hold on
you?” Micah rubbed a strand Barbara’s red hair between his thumb and
forefinger.

Bob jumped out of his chair.
“Cheese, Louise. We have to pray about this.”

Micah turned to Bob. “I’m not a
believer, either, Bob.”

“Micah, doesn’t matter if you don’t
believe or Barbara kinda sorta sometimes believes. God believes in us. I say we
pray about this and listen to what God has to say about Ahlman.”

Bob made his way around the table
to stand between Micah and Barbara. He moved Micah’s hand off the back of
Barbara’s chair. He held onto Micah’s wrist and touched Barbara on the arm.
“Lord, we’re gathered here together, two or more in your name…”

“Wait. I have to use the
facilities.” Barbara headed off towards the stairs.

“It’s over by the hall.” Micah
pointed Barbara to the powder room.

“Be back in a sec. You guys can
pray without me,” Barbara dashed for the stairs.

Bob picked up the prayer again.
“Lord, not everyone here believes in Jesus. Our friend Micah is concerned your
angel Ahlman might be from the other side. He’s concerned that Ahlman may be
some sort of evil faerie or whatever, but not an angel. Barbara and I know he is
angel. We can’t convince Micah. Please help us make heads or tails of this
situation. We’re going into a quiet time, now Lord, to await your word for us.”

During the silence that followed,
Micah sipped beer while admiring the serene appearance of Bob’s face. After a
few minutes, Barbara returned and took a seat next to Micah. Bob’s body shook
gently for a few seconds. Then Barbara shook. Bob opened his eyes.

“You guys okay?” Micah asked.

“Yeah, why?” Bob stretched in his
seat.

“You were shaking.” Micah sipped
his beer.

“I wasn’t,” said Barbara.

“I didn’t feel any shaking.” Bob
placed his stubby fingers around his diminutive chin. “But something isn’t
right. It’s like things aren’t the same as they were.”

Micah took Barbara’s hand. “So you
guys hear anything specific while you were shaking. By the way, I noticed both
of you shake right before Bob opened his eyes.”

“I didn’t hear anything, but I feel
weird.” Bob returned to his seat on the other side of the table. “You guys are mighty
friendly.”

Micah lifted his hand revealing
that he was holding Barbara’s hand. “We got caught.”

Barbara made eye contact with
Micah. “So much for prayer.”

Bob reached for another beer. “The
Lord will answer our prayer in time. You two have to have faith.”

“Don’t have much in the way of
faith.” Micah smiled at Barbara and then turned to Bob. “Why don’t you ask your
friend Ahlman about faith?”

“Ahlman Brown? Why would I ask
him?” Bob turned his palms up with a puzzled expression on his face.

“He’s an angel.” Micah smiled.

Bob’s eyes sprouted question marks.
“He is?”

“Bob, you don’t think Ahlman Brown
is an angel?” Micah asked.

“Why would I think so?” Bob
shrugged.

Micah stood up, grabbed Bob’s head
with both hands and kissed him on the forehead.

“Told you he was a perv.” Barbara took
another swig of Guinness, but kept her eyes on Micah.

Micah returned Barbara’s stare.

Barbara broke eye contact. “Don’t
even think about kissing me.”

Micah said, “I’m not. Well, I am,
but what I want to ask is how you feel about Ahlman Brown.”

Barbara grinned. “Are you really
thinking about kissing me? Right here in front of God and Bob?”

“Yep. Told you guys I wasn’t much
of a praying person. Besides you’re a pretty girl with a kissable face.” Micah
sat down while Bob returned to his plate of food.

Barbara smiled at Micah. “Hmmm,
thank you. I’ll take that under advisement.”

“And what about Ahlman?” Bob asked.

Barbara dismissed the question with
a wave of the hand. “Wouldn’t think of kissing him.”

“He an angel?” Bob asked.

“He’s a jerk,” Barbara said. “So
full of himself.”

Bob pointed at Barbara with his
half-eaten sandwich. “You don’t think he’s an angel, then?”

“Course not.” Barbara picked up her
bottle of stout.

Micah planted his beer can hard on
the table making a splash. “Something happened during prayer time. Before you
prayed, you were both fervent believers in Ahlman Brown as a heaven-sent angel.

Bob looked surprised. “You’re
right. We’ve been freed from a demonic presence, a sort of mind control.”

“I need another beer,” Barbara
said. “This ain’t Sunday morning.”

Bob finished chewing a bite of
sandwich, drank some beer and said, “So, Micah, who’s your friend?”

Micah shrugged. “My friend?”

“Yeah. Somebody hired the country’s
most expensive legal team and bailed you out despite a multimillion-dollar bond
payment. They’re putting you up in this mansion and feeding you enough for a
small army.” Bob waved an arm over the food spread.

“I’m my friend.” Micah pointed a
thumb at his chest.

Barbara pulled a stout bottle neck
out of her mouth. “You paid with your own money?”

Micah glanced at Barbara. “Yeah,
why?”

Bob said, “Because, despite what
the news people say about you being wealthy, all we see is a jailbird ex-con
with no visible means of support. No offense.”

Micah chuckled. “None taken. It’s
my father’s money. He died and left it to me.”

Barbara pushed her red hair away
from her face again. “So you’re loaded?”

“Kinda.” Micah raised an eyebrow.

“So why are you living in a fixer
upper?” Barbara asked.

Micah said, “Wanted something to do
while I figure out what to do next. Besides, I’m not comfortable around money,
especially if I didn’t earn it myself.”

Barbara blinked with her deep green
eyes a few times. “Why don’t you stand up straight and walk proud? You’re
stooped shouldered like a sad sack just out of… oh, right, you are out of
prison. Why don’t you spend some of the dough? You know, travel, do stuff. Pick
up a gorgeous redhead. That sort of thing?”

“If I knew a gorgeous redhead, I’d
ask her out.” Micah feigned a straight face, but couldn’t prevent a smirk from
creeping across his lips.

The sandwich, the one Barbara had
taken two bites out of, hit Micah between the eyes.

“You know someone?” Micah wiped his
face with a napkin and laughed.

Barbara shook the Guinness bottle
and sprayed stout at Micah’s face.

“Wait, no fair.” Micah ran to the
kitchen and came back shaking a can of soda.

“Noooo!” Barbara screamed as she rambled
out of the room with a spray of soda streaming down her back.

“You didn’t tell me there would be
a food fight,” Bob called from under the table.

“How about a truce?” Micah asked.

“I’m wet.” Barbara did not appear
happy. “You have anything upstairs a lady can change into. No, don’t say it. I
take it back. Do you have anything I can change into? And don’t you dare make a
wisecrack about not knowing any ladies.”

“Uhm, I have some of my own things.
It’s a bit late for the stores or I’d take you shopping. You’re welcome to
change into anything I own.”

“How about the clothes you’re
wearing right now?” Barbara’s green eyes glistened.

Bob laughed and then sang,
“Barbara, your face, at first just crimson, turned a brighter shade of red.”

Micah wiped his hands on his shirt.
“Uhmm, they’re wet from your stout.”

Barbara continued to stare at
Micah. “You have pajamas?”

“Maybe.” Micah leaned against the
wall.

Barbara raised her eyebrows. “Pajama
party?”

“Pajama party!” Micah chased
Barbara up the wide, winding stair case.

“Which way?” Barbara panted.

“Follow me.”

Bob called up the stairs, “If it’s
okay with you guys, I’m leaving for home to get my own pajamas, and then I’ll
stay there.”

“I could attack you while we wait.”
Micah lowered his head into range for a kiss.

Barbara pushed back with her hands
against Micah’s chest. “Just when I thought I could trust you while wearing
nothing but your pajama tops.”

“Nothing?” Micah stepped forward
and placed his hands on Barbara’s hips while she placed hers in the pushing
position on his chest again.

Barbara peered into his eyes. “I’ll
be glad when my clothes come out of that dryer, won’t you?”

Micah rubbed a thumb across
Barbara’s cheek and stepped back. He gazed around the utility room at the
washer, dryer, table, clothes sorting shelving system, sinks, built-in TV and
stereo system, lounge chairs, bookcase, magazine rack, refrigerator, microwave and
mudroom accommodations. “This room is a nice house.”

“I know what you mean. I still
can’t believe you’re so rich. You seem like such an ordinary perv… I mean
person. I have to stop calling you a perv. You passed the nice guy test.”
Barbara moseyed closer to Micah.

“By being rich?”

“No, by not attacking me.

“I wouldn’t mind putting that offer
back on the table.”

Barbara spun around and sauntered
to the other side of the long folding table. “Then I wouldn’t know if you
passed the perv test or just cheated. Nope. We have to be good. And don’t think
this is about money because it’s not.”

“What’s it about?” Micah smiled as
he folded his arms across his chest.

“It’s about you and me.”

“Oh?”

“You have to understand I’m a bit
forward. I speak whatever’s on my mind.”

“I see.”

“The good news is you’ll always know
where you stand with me.”

“And the bad news?”

“Don’t ever let me see you hanging
out with that old hag again.”

“Denise Appleby?”

“Yes, the hag. She’s like a hundred
and fifty years old so don’t mess with her, okay?”

“She broke up with me.”

“I don’t trust her. She’s an evil,
devil-worshipping hag.”

“Seemed like a good enough witch to
me.”

“She’s a hag, not a witch. You’ll
keep away from her if you’re smart.”
            “Can I make you a cup of coffee?”

“Love some.”

“Take your hands off me.” Denise
Appleby stepped away from Ahlman Brown’s grip.

Ahlman clamped down hard on
Denise’s shoulders again. Denise snarled and twisted out of his grip. “I’m not
going!”

“Sooner or later the master will
want to bring you home.” Ahlman grabbed her shoulders from behind for the third
time.

Denise shook her shoulders to
remove Ahlman’s hands. They stood in the midst of her pale blue colonial
kitchen. The brown knotty pine cabinets and wainscoting assured the room would
stay dark. The deep red plastic laminate countertops dated from the fifties,
the green sheet linoleum floor from the sixties. “I didn’t raise you out of the
depths to tell me I’m dying. I want you to fix me. And I’m not talking about a
two- or three-day fix either. Wrinkles so soon, Ahlman! I paid dearly for this
face.”