The Collector (10 page)

Changes

“Beauty’s sister is vanity, and its daughter lust.”

—Unknown

Chapter Nineteen

The Dotted Line

For a moment, I just stare at her. I’m, like, speechless. Never did I think I’d hear those words,
I’m ready
. But Charlie had taken a beating the past couple of days, and what was it Max said last night?

People change when shit happens.

“Dante?” she asks. “Do you still have that contract thing?”

I nod.

“Can you explain how it works again? This time I’ll listen.”

My eyebrows rise, and I nod again.

“Is it here somewhere?” Now she’s the one staring at me. I can tell I’m freaking her out by not responding. I’ve got to snap the heck out of it before she backtracks.

“Yeah,” I say finally. “Yeah, it’s in the car. I’ll grab it.”

She lies back on the bed while I slide on my red Chucks. I try not to notice the way her thighs press against the mattress.

“Be right back,” I tell her, but she doesn’t say anything.

I jog out to the car. In my gut, I have this strange feeling. Like some completely wasted chick just told me to get condoms. And I agreed.

I pull the contract out of Elizabeth Taylor’s glove compartment, then head back inside. Because I forgot the key, I have to knock and wait outside my own room until Charlie opens the door. Her eyes fall on the contract as I move inside and sit down on the bed.

“So what’s the deal?” she asks. “I just sign…and you make me pretty?”

I unroll the contract and try not to seem clueless—even though that’s exactly what I am. I haven’t done this any more than she has.

The contract has a place for both our names and pretty much spells out that for each request she makes, she forfeits a piece of her soul. Okay, seems easy enough.

“It looks like you just sign, then ask for whatever you want.” I shrug. “And then I guess we give it to you.”

“As in, you’re not sure?” she says.

I raise my voice and straighten, hoping she’ll buy my forced confidence. “I’m sure. It’s very simple. We do it all the time.”

“Really?”

“Totally.”

She reaches for the contract, and I give it to her. Her eyes roll over the words. “It doesn’t say a whole lot, does it? You’d think for something like this, there’d be lots of legal stuff.”

“We like to make things easy.” I’m hoping my use of
we
makes it sound like I know what I’m doing.

“So all I do is sign, then make my requests? And when I’ve used up all my wishes or whatever, you’ll take my soul?”

“Exactly.” I taste acid in the back of my throat.

She lays the contract on the nightstand between us and pulls in a big breath. I really look at her in that moment: her frizzy blond hair, skinny, curveless body, and bad skin. These things make her appear average at best. But there are other things I hadn’t noticed before. Things I can’t stop studying now that she’s considering this. Things like her sweeping cheekbones, ones models would murder for. And her neck, long and graceful like she was meant to wear ballet slippers. And of course, her mouth. Which I’ve always thought was beautiful.

I mean, passable.

That was weird.

My shoulders tense when I think about this whole contract thing. Charlie’s the only girl I’ve ever met who loved her life. Like,
really
loved it. And now she’s going to change it. All because Boss Man wants her soul.

And because I want a promotion.

I want to ask her why she’s changed her mind. I’m sure she’s been picked on her whole life, so what’s different now? But I’m scared to press. Scared if we talk about it, she’ll change her mind. Scared she might say
me
.

She opens the nightstand drawer and pulls out a pen. I’m about to tell her where to sign, but she finds the line on her own and puts the pen to it. She hesitates and glances up at me. There’s something strange in the way she’s holding my eyes, like she just remembered why she’s doing this. I wonder if she can tell I’m holding my breath.

“Thank you for this, Dante,” she says. “I’m sorry I got mad before.”

Her kindness is suddenly too much. I reach to jerk the pen out of her hand, but before I can, she signs her name on the dotted line:
Charlie Cooper.

She hands the contract and pen up to me, a grin sweeping from ear to ear. “Your turn.”

I take it from her, cross the room, and lay it down on the dresser. She can’t see the look on my face, the one I want to tear off with my fingernails. There’s no reason I should feel this…
guilt
. I’m a collector. This is what I do. I don’t know any other way.

For a second, I wonder if I can stop this. Maybe if I don’t sign my own name, it’ll pause this whole ordeal.

“Dante?” Charlie says from the bed. Her voice is thick with concern.

I turn and face her, and she must notice the struggle in my features, because her mouth opens, and her eyes widen.

“What is it?” she asks. “Did I do something wrong?”

I can’t stand the sound of her voice. I can’t stand the way she’s looking at me. And I can’t
stand
the crap she makes me feel.

I slam the pen down and sign my name before I can think.

It’s over.

It’s done.

My lips pull up into a halfhearted smile, and I glance back at Charlie. She’s waiting for me to tell her it’s okay. So I do.

“You did the right thing.”

She nods her head and smiles, but her eyes find the floor. Then it’s like something occurs to her. She hops up from the bed and runs to the bathroom, limping and bumping into me on the way.

“Where you going?” I yell.

I scour the room thinking I missed something, then go after Charlie. Inspecting herself in the mirror, she turns her face from side to side. She seems excited at first, but then her mouth slopes downward.

She glances at my reflection. “It didn’t work.”

I lick my lips. “I think you have to actually ask for it to happen.”

“I did, though.”

“When?”

“When I was out there,” she says. “Right after you signed.”

I rub the back of my head. “I didn’t hear you say anything. Maybe you have to say it louder.”
Or maybe you have to fax it in? Or mail it via sea turtle. Who effin’ knows.

“You think I have to say what I want out loud?” she says. “That’s kind of embarrassing.”

“You didn’t say it aloud?”

“No, I just…prayed for it. To God, you know.”

Oh, no.

“I think,” I start.
Careful, Dante.
“I think you have to say it aloud so there’s, like, a witness. It’s probably why we both had to sign.”

Yeah, that sounded good.

She
hmphs
, then walks past me into the room. “Okay, so I’ll just say it aloud.”

“Okay.” I sit across from her, and though I still feel a twinge of guilt, I can’t help being excited to witness this. She’s going to be beautiful. Charlie Cooper…is going to be beautiful.

She folds her hands in her lap, closes her eyes, and opens her mouth.

Chapter Twenty

I Want

“I want—”

I lean forward, nearly falling off the bed. I can’t wait to hear her say the words:
I want to be beautiful.

“I want,” she repeats.

Come on! Come on!

“I want to have beautiful hair.”

“You want what?”

“Beautiful hair,” she repeats. “I want to have beautiful hair.” She lifts a lock of frizzy-fried blond hair and grimaces.

I’ll admit better hair could do wonders for the girl, but what about the rest of her? Why not get rid of the bad skin or crooked teeth? Or her limp, for that matter? “Don’t you just want to do everything at once?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No way. I don’t want to go too fast. I need time to think about what I want.”

Great. The last thing I need is her dragging ass on this. “Maybe you should just ask to be beautiful, and the things that need changing will change.”

She doesn’t answer me. Instead, she stares at her hair. “Why isn’t anything happening? It still looks the same.”

I glance at her hair. It
does
look the same. “Maybe you have to say it louder. Try again. And while you’re at it, go ahead and ask for a few other things.”

She presses her lips together, then takes a breath and nearly screams, “I want beautiful hair.”

Nothing happens.

I sigh and fall back on the bed. Why can’t anything on this assignment ever go right? “Why do you even want better hair?” I ask. “Why not bigger boobs or something?”

“Dante!” Charlie throws a pillow at me. I grab it in midair and throw it back. She laughs and falls back on the other bed. “I guess I always wanted to be one of those girls that can do the hair toss.”

“The hair toss?”

“Yeah,” she says. “That thing where the girl smiles all flirty-like, then tosses her perfect, shiny hair over her shoulder? I want that.”

I glance over at her. My breath catches in my throat. Her hair is…
glowing
. As calmly as I can, I ask, “Why else do you want to change your hair?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Ooh, yeah, I do! I want to do all those cool styles.”

Charlie sits up, and her hair glows brighter. She doesn’t even notice. She’s on a roll now, and her cheeks burn red.

“I want to do those messy buns and low side ponies and maybe have cute, sideswept bangs.”

Brighter and brighter. And now…now it’s changing. Growing longer and fuller.

“I’ve always wanted to do all those things, but with hair like mine, it’s a lost cause.” She pulls her hair from behind her head and gazes at it. “My hair’s always just…it just…”

I start laughing.

Her eyes go big, and then she runs into the bathroom.

“Ahhhhhh!” she squeals. “My hair! Oh, my gosh, my hair!”

She races back into the room and swirls around. Her hair sprays out in a thick, shiny blanket. The color is a perfect shade of blond, like she walked right into Bergdorf and asked for their very best.

Charlie rolls her arms beneath her hair and lets it fall in a wave down her back. “It’s gorgeous,” she breathes. “Don’t you think?”

For a moment, I forget all about the contract and just relish the grin on her face. Though her smile is less than perfect, it does something to me, makes my chest tighten in a good way. It also makes me feel as if I did the right thing. Then her soul light flips on, and like I don’t even have a choice, a seal floats from my chest and attaches to her light. It’s smaller than the one I gave her at the mall, and I realize then that it’ll take a lot of beauty wishes to completely collect her.

But judging by the happy dance she’s doing around the room, that won’t be a problem.

Chapter Twenty-one

Shiny, Perfect Hair

The next morning, I pick Charlie up, and we go to our early morning breakfast. She’s left her hair down, and it is…stunning. I never thought good hair could do so much for one person. I suggest she audition for a shampoo commercial.

She laughs.

I don’t.

“Where we headed?” I ask.

“You didn’t make reservations for our date?”

I’d have spit out my coffee if I’d had any. A
date
? Damn, Princess Cooper got some overnight confidence. When I glance at her, I see she’s smiling. My shoulders relax.

“Thought you’d know best,” I respond. “I’m basically a tourist.”

“Metro Diner it is,” she says.

“
Metro?
They’re really taking liberty with that word.”

Charlie giggles and tosses her hair over her shoulder.

Oh, sweet Joseph. She just tried out the Hair Toss.

Inside Metro Diner, we grab a table near the back. A waitress who clearly ate a water buffalo for breakfast waddles to our table.

“Order?” she says.

I open my mouth to answer, but Charlie beats me to the punch. “Two Greek omelets with extra feta, salsa on the side. And two large OJs.”

Big Bertha scribbles the order down and turns to go.

I grab her arm. “Hold on there, sweetheart. I’m sure the omelets and orange juice are to
die
for. But I’m also going to need black coffee and two sides of bacon.”

She stares at me like I’m the least interesting thing she’s seen next to exercise.

“You do have bacon, right?” I ask her blank stare and heavy breathing.

She nods and waddles-slash-thunders away.

“Food’s pretty healthy here, huh?” I ask Charlie.

“Like you’d care.” She snorts. “Exactly how much bacon do you eat?”

“Enough to put your Skittles addiction to shame.”

The bacon comes out burnt, and the coffee tastes like a donkey’s ass, but the Greek omelet is actually pretty awesome. We eat our breakfast, and Charlie flips her hair at the end of every sentence. Which is saying a lot.

At one point she stops and stares at me.

“What?” I ask.

“It’s just…so you can eat and stuff?”

“Yeah, so?”

She glances around and leans toward me, boobs pressed against the table. “But you’re dead.”

“Damn straight.”

“Then how do you eat?”

I wipe my mouth with the paper napkin. “My body was scavenged before I could start to…umm…”

“Decay?” she says, her nose scrunched up.

“Yeah, exactly. Then they placed this cuff on my ankle, and I was back in business.”

She peers out the window, thinking. “So you’re like a living person? Blood flowing? Heart pumping?”

I nod. “Yep. I was just out of commission for a few days during the funeral and burial. Then the next thing I knew, I was gasping for air.”

“You were alive again,” she says, filling in the pieces.

“I wouldn’t say
alive
, exactly.”

She tongues the inside of her cheek. “But you
are
alive.”

“No, Charlie. I’m not. I’m dead. All this—” I beat my chest. “—it’s artificial.”

She takes a small bite of her omelet and tries to change the subject. I’m glad she asked her questions and that I answered without screwing up—without exposing who I really work for. I watch her wash down the omelet with radioactive orange juice and realize she still doesn’t know about her ability. That she can undo my seals with her blasted pink ones. I have questions of my own, questions I want answers to, but they aren’t going to come from her. And for that I’m thankful.

After breakfast, I drive Charlie to school and suffer through three hours of mind-numbing classes before lunch. When the bell rings, I follow her out of economics and into the cafeteria. We didn’t see Annabelle and Blue when we got to school this morning, and even I’m a little excited to see their reaction—to see if they’ll even notice.

Blue’s face changes the moment he sees her. His eyes narrow, then widen, and his lips parts.

Guess he notices.

Charlie does the Toss, and his mouth stretches into a smile.

“Hey, Charlie,” he mumbles. “Did you…do something?”

She slowly lowers herself down into the chair across from him, tucking one leg beneath her. It’s hilarious watching Charlie attempt grace, but I give her mad props for bringing the confidence. If she only knew how much that same confidence could improve her overall appearance…

“What are you talking about?” Charlie asks coyly. “
I
didn’t do anything.”

Annabelle glances up from a magazine, and her jaw drops. “Holy mother of God, what did you do to your hair?”

Charlie laughs, but it has a ring of nervousness to it. I can tell she doesn’t know how to respond.

“My friend flew in from L.A. to visit family,” I say. “She’s a stylist.”

Charlie chimes in. “Yeah, and she did my hair.”

Annabelle gets up from the table and walks to our side. She runs her fingers through Charlie’s hair, and her eyes get all crazy, like she might be packin’ a chainsaw. “What did she put in it? No. No, I don’t care. Just…how do I get it?” Annabelle eyes me. “You will tell me.”

“Don’t know. She’s super weird about her trade secrets.”

“That’s okay,” she says. “I don’t need to know. Just tell me I’m next.”

“Sorry,” I say, my palms turned up. “She’s flying back this afternoon.”

Annabelle acts like I just ran over her cat, which I would if I saw it. She lifts Charlie’s hair to her nose and breathes in.

“Okay, that’s enough.” I pull Charlie’s hair away from Annabelle and point her to her seat.

Annabelle stomps back to her chair like she’s seriously considering kidney-punching someone, or burning the school down. Something.

“Anna, your hair is beautiful the way it is,” Charlie says.

Annabelle points her plastic fork at Charlie. “You will not talk to me.”

Charlie leans forward, her face pulled together. “Are you being serious?”

Annabelle rolls her eyes. “No. But you better call me next time Jesus comes to Peachville.”

Charlie laughs, but at the same time, she gives me a look from the corner of her eye—like we’re sharing the secret that Jesus really
did
come to this country bumpkin town.

“What are you reading?” I ask to change the subject.

Annabelle holds up
First Shot Magazine
. “They did an entire issue on black-and-white movies. I thought I’d see what they put in here.”

“You dig those old movies, huh?”

“It’s my favorite thing next to basketball. Speaking of, we’re playing after school today. You in?” Annabelle grins, then she yelps and glares at Blue. “Seriously? That hurt.”

“Nah,” I say. “I got stuff to do.”

“Shame,” Blue says under his breath.

I crack my knuckles and zone in on his mumbling mouth. I’m so over this crap. “You know what, I changed my mind. I wouldn’t mind kicking some ass today.”

“Yeah.” Annabelle nods. “That’s what I’m talking about. Charlie, you want to come? He’s going to need directions to his final resting place.”

Charlie shoots a glance at me, no doubt startled by the
final resting place
. “Sounds good,” she says. “What time?”

“Seven o’clock.”

Blue stares at Charlie. “You’re going to come?”

She shrugs. “Sure, ’bout time I check you guys out.”

I’m surprised Charlie hasn’t gone before. Then again, I guess it’s not fun if you don’t have a prayer of playing. With her limp, I doubt anyone’s let her near a court.

As lunch period wraps up, I spot a beauty queen strutting toward our table. When she does the hair toss, I realize Charlie’s still an amateur.

“Hey,” Hot Girl says to Charlie.

Charlie gazes up at her. “Hi.”

Hot Girl shifts for a second, like standing there is physically painful. “My friends and I were just wondering if you got your hair done or something.”

Charlie’s eyes shine. “Yeah, I did. Thanks for noticing.”

“Uh-huh,” Hot Girl says. “Where did you go?”

Charlie points to me. “His friend from out of town did it.”

The girl shakes her head. “Tragic. I can’t find a hair stylist to save my life in this crap hole.” She sighs. “Thanks, anyway.”

As the girl walks back to her table, Charlie turns to face us. Her eyes are the size of watermelons.

Hells, yeah
, I think.
That was perfect.