Jul 8

Jul 8 Dream Angel

“...full of humor, sadness, unprecedented loss, dark magic, and one hot druid by the name of Aidan Bane. The is wild and the ride will blow your mind with characters and secrets unveiled. I couldn’t put the book down.”

— Amazon Review

“Phenomenal and captivating”

— Amazon Review

“Unique storyline for sure. Tons of twists and turns, ups and downs, highs and lows, secrets and lies... A page-turner”

— Amazon Review

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Dream Angel - book excerpt

Journey

It began in midsummer. The smell of honeysuckle wafted through the air. I’d been hanging out with my two BFFs, Laurie, and Becky. We had gone to the movies to watch a crappy film, an alien sci-fi. The only good thing about it was the lead actor, a cute boy. The three of us had a blast eating popcorn and laughing over the lame lines. Romances sucked.

Later, we went to grab a bite at Big Boy’s Bar-B-Que, messy, but the best in Sweetwater, Texas.

We were sitting at a booth eating our sandwiches when Logan Hunter sauntered into the small diner. He carried the impressive title of the all-star linebacker for the last two years at Sweetwater High. He was a senior, a grade higher than I was. Logan had the cutest smile of any boy I’d ever met, and I, Stephanie Ray, had the biggest crush ever.

The door jangled, and I happened to look up. Fretfully, I twirled in my seat, about to have a cow. I jabbed Beck, who sat next to me, in the ribs. “Don’t look up!”

She snapped her blonde head up and asked, “Why?”

Of course, she did what I asked her not to do… she looked!

“He’s here? Logan?” I whispered frantically.

Laurie had just come back from the restroom, sliding into her seat. “What’s wrong?” Her blue eyes bounced between Beck and me.

I leaned over the table, “Logan,” I whispered, shooting a hard stare at her to not repeat his name out loud.

She laughed, swatting her hand at me. “Pfff pleaseeee! Stevie, chill-out for Christ’s sake. I invited him to your birthday party tomorrow night.”

Beck started jumping in her seat, ecstatic. “No, you didn’t.”

Laurie poked back, “Oh-yes-I-did.” She threw a fry at Beck, laughing.

I hunkered down in my seat. The gratitude for sitting next to the wall fluttered through me, easier to hide.

“Y’all need to get over yourselves.” Laurie’s voice carried through the restaurant.

“Shush! He’ll hear you!” I fretted, watching my life go down the crapper in only a matter of seconds. Logan stopping by our table, and I’d spill food on myself or choke on my drink. I mean, the possibilities of me screwing this up were endless.

Laurie, parting words of wisdom. “I don’t know why you hide from him. He likes you, and you like him,” she laughed. “Besides, you owe it to all us girls.”

I snorted. “Owe you what?”

She rolled her eyes. “We can all live vicariously through you and your hot make-out sessions.”

“I’m not going to share such with y’all,” I whispered at Laurie, appalled, mortified, but laughing inwardly.

Beck jabbed me with her elbow. “That’s because a boy has never kissed you.”

Laurie fell out of her seat, roaring with laughter, and Beck laid her head in my lap, laughing.

My lovely friends knew I’d never have the guts to speak to a boy I liked. I think they were hoping on my eighteenth birthday, Logan Hunter would do the honors. They were throwing me a party tomorrow night. That was why my girls invited Sweetwater High’s all-star football player, and, well… I think the fact that I liked him had a significant impact on their decision-making too.

Logan was different than any of the boys at school. There was intelligence behind his soulful browns. A kiss from him would be any girl’s dream. Bumping it up to the next level as a couple, I wasn’t ready. Oh, I was crushing big time on the all-star football player. I mean, look at him, a handsome, compact boy who walked with a spring in his step, his shoulders, a yard wide and tall like a towering spruce, and his soft blond curls reminded me of golden honey. I exhaled starry-eyed ogling Logan standing at the food counter. “He’s a he-man.” I let out a long sigh, and mortified, covering my mouth, eyes wide. “Tell me I didn’t say that out loud?” Beck cackled, and Laurie followed.

***Then my small window of happiness came to a screeching halt like a plane nose-diving into the Atlantic Ocean. Sara, my mother, decided it was time to pack our bags and vamoose to the next dive town. Another town, another school, another miserable life. I didn’t know why I thought Sweetwater would’ve been any different. Sara never stayed anywhere long. Since Dad’s death, we’d been living out of a suitcase.

I was eight years old when a hit-and-run driver had taken Dad’s life, and just like that, our world changed forever. To this day, his cold case sat, collecting dust on a shelf. The police had never found the driver. For ten years, the thought of Dad’s killer running amok grated against me worse than a spit-bath. I refused to let it go until the authorities caught the killer, and he was sitting behind bars, rotting.

At the time, I had no idea how much of an impact Sara’s machination would affect my life until it was too late. Secrets kill. I would remember her words like it was yesterday.

“Mom, this isn’t fair,” I snapped. I suspected Sara’s bi-polar might be flaring up again. “I don’t want to move to Louisiana!”

“Get over it.” Her tone bulldozed me down.

“What about my birthday party this evening? My friends, Laurie, and Becky went through a lot of trouble. You haven’t even bothered buying me a cake.”

She cut her eyes at me. “Don’t get an attitude with me, young lady!” Then she inhaled a calm breath, though the ice on her tongue never melted. “I’m sure there’s a Wal-Mart somewhere between here and Louisiana. I’ll get you a cake then.” Sara turned back to her packing as if she were preparing for some tropical vacation. Bright-colored swimwear spread across the bed, along with shoes and other light dress wear.

As I stared at the luggage, a scowl crept across my face. That tattered suitcase had seen more towns than most people saw in a lifetime. My stomach knotted every time I laid eyes on it too. It represented everything I hated… starting over. “What’s wrong with this town? I like Sweetwater. You have that great job at Fashion Boutique. It doesn’t make sense moving again. Can’t we stay in one place for more than a minute?”

“I. Hate. Texas!”

I couldn’t wrap my head around it, but this move appeared different than the other times. We were always rushing out of town for some cryptic reason. Either Sara got caught with her married boss, or we were getting evicted. Apart from the usual get-out-of-town-before-I-get-arrested list of reasons, this time seemed eerily aberrant. It was as if some compelling force had Sara by the hair like a breechcloth Neanderthal dragging her off to the land of yonder. “Can’t we leave in the morning?” I tried to reason. “We’ll both have a good night’s sleep, and I can go to my birthday party.”

Lines etched deep across Sara’s forehead like petrified wood as she turned to me. “I’ve made my mind up. We’re leaving today before nightfall.”

“Mom, moving’s wacko.”

Sara quickly pinned her combative eyes at me. “Are you saying I’m crazy?”

I stepped back out of range of her reach. I liked my teeth. “That’s not what I meant,” I backpedaled. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ve about had it with you!” Sara often struggled with her adult role. From her miniskirts to her mimicking a spoiled teenager, the lines often blurred. And as a result, I was forced to be the designated adult. “Mom, I’m doing well here. The school is great. My grades are dope. Can’t you reconsider?”

“You’ll make new friends. You’re young. You’ll adapt. We’re moving, and that’s final!”

“Do you care at all how I feel?” I bit my lip from saying what I wanted to say: selfish, self-absorbed, self-serving, self-centered… something like that.

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Every time we move, it eats at me.”

“Stop acting like a drama queen.”

I pointed to the suitcase. “Normal people don’t behave irrationally, moving from town to town, living in a suitcase… never knowing where their next meal is coming from.” Most of the time, I kept my mouth shut, but this time, Sara needed to hear how her actions affected me. “No, Mom, only you prefer living like a gypsy.”

“As opposed to your stuffy self, I’m adventurous.” Sara picked up a mirror, checking her cherry-red lipstick. Then she tossed the mirror on the bed and attempted to reel the voice of reason into her insanity. “Try to look at this as a going-away birthday,” she forced a smile as fake as her hot pink fingernails.

“I hope you’re not planning another excursion, camping in the city? Or should I say homeless?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.” Whenever Sara spun lies, her southern accent seemed more conspicuous.

“If Dad were alive, we wouldn’t be bouncing from town to town, chasing rainbows and unicorns either.” I was fighting dirty, and watching Sara flinch over the mention of Dad gave me a spike of triumph. Memory lane for Sara was like sticking your hand over an open fire. The mention of Dad’s name bothered her. I think she’d placed Dad’s memories in a shoebox and stuffed it away in a dank basement to avoid the stab. She even went as far as forbidding me to speak his name. I reckoned Sara struggled with Dad’s death. Even so, at times, I didn’t mind twisting the proverbial knife.

“Well, your daddy’s not here. He’s dead!” her words were cold and unfeeling. “You can call your friends when we get on the road. Go pack! I want to be on the road by sundown.”

“I can’t do this again. This is your life. Not mine. I won’t go!”

“You don’t have a choice!” Sara shouted, hands to her side, flexing her white-knuckled fists. Then she paused, taking a deep breath, dousing an extra coat of honey on her lies. “Sweetie, you’re going to love this town. I promise no more moving. This is the last time.”

“What’s so special about this waterhole? Is it even on the map?”

“I heard the town is real good, friendly folks, and cheap living too.”

I stood there eyeballing her, suspicion swirling in my mind. “What’s the real reason, Mom?”

She dropped her clothes and flopped down on the edge of the bed. She reminded me of someone giving confession. Shoulders slumped, eyes fixed to the floor. “Don’t get mad,” she sighed. “We ain’t got any rent money.”

“What did you do, Mom?” The air in my lungs suddenly collapsed.

“I used it on a psychic. Legend Red is famous.”

“Don’t you know psychics are cons?”

“Not Red,” Sara’s brown eyes gleamed as if she were defending her lover. “He’s real.”

“Mom, he’s no more a psychic than Miss Cleo on television,” I argued. “Remember her? She got canned for fraud. He ain’t no different!”

“Red foresaw us in this little town living on easy street.” She scrunched her shoulders together like a child.

“Homelessness isn’t easy street.”

“Don’t get sassy!” She leaped onto her feet, fist drawn ready to Donnybrook me.

“Fine! I’m leaving.” I stormed out of Sara’s bedroom headed for the front door. I could hear Sara’s bellow.

“Stevie Ray! Don’t you walk…”

I couldn’t listen to her nonsense any longer. Flying by the seat of your pants half-cocked to these dead-end towns might be Sara’s idea of living. I sure didn’t share the same aspirations.

Since Dad’s death, dealing with Sara’s bipolar hadn’t been a cakewalk. Merely a child myself, I was ill-equipped to handle her manic episodes I still struggled and dreaded every waking day.

Until I was old enough to work a secular job, I did odd jobs for the neighbors, from babysitting to dog walking. The cash came in handy for school lunches. I would’ve qualified for the free lunch program, but Sara felt it’d give folks the wrong impression. I reckoned she didn’t realize they already knew we were poor. My faded, worn clothes were a dead giveaway.

By the time I reached seventeen, I had worked just about every hamburger joint stretching as far as Montana to the Florida Keys. During the school year, I worked after school and full time in the summer. It helped with the bills, but it hindered my social life. Between school, work, and then riding out the waves of Sara’s roller-coaster episodes, I had little time for friends. It sucked too.

As reality spun its bitter web, I discovered far worse things. Sleeping in a cardboard box in the middle of winter, no child should have to experience. Attending school in the same dirty clothes day after day taught me the cruelties of life at a very early age. After a few bloody noses, I began to fight back. I got where I could hold my own.

Despite my chaotic life, what kept me hopeful were my studies. I was smart, and my scores reflected it too. I understood that if I ever wanted to get out of poverty, education was my meal ticket.

Looking back, I thought eighteen would be the magic number. Free from bondage, no longer burdened to worry over Sara. The problem that stuck like oatmeal to my gut was my consciousness. Sara’s incompetency kept me bound to this lifestyle I hated. If something happened to her, I’d never forgiven myself. Despite the tough time, I loved her. She was the only family I had.

Knowing I was doing the right thing helped me get through the rough patches. When my dad was alive, he’d often say, “A family sticks together regardless.” If Dad were alive today, he’d be proud of my endeavors. For that reason, I stayed.

Yet at night, whenever things were quiet, I’d lie in bed, wincing from an endless pain deep inside me, and with each new town, the agony magnified.