Monday, July 11, 2016

Holly (Blogophilia 21.9)

Blue moon 
You saw me standing alone 
Without a dream in my heart 
Without a love of my own
 
 
 
 
Billie Holiday’s dulcet voice drifted in the dark car like a misty Minnesota Morning. Flashes of light illuminating the rain covered Buckhead streets. Almost like a rock in his shoe, an unease came over Bart. A storm was coming. He had rode them out before, but this one was different from Amy, somehow. At the next light, he gently brushed the bangs of her wig. With a small purr, the head fell toward the touch and her eyes fluttered open. 
 
“Amy, have you come for me?”
 
As if he had touched a live wire, he pulled his hand away. 
 
“What did you say?”
 
Slowly, Holly awoke. Looking at the shocked face, she began to laugh.
 
“You look like you saw dead people.” Putting a hand on his leg. “It’s O.K, I was dreaming. An angel with beautiful black hair was next to me. She kind of looked like Amy.”
 
“Really?”
 
“It’s not the first time. Even before we met, she would appear in my mind whenever life was roughest.” Her face was lit by a billboard on the sidewalk. “She never said anything, but it was always a comfort when she came.”
 
His mouth opened to reply, but then shut as she continued. 
 
“My Guardian Angel. It wasn’t until I saw Amy’s picture I actually put the name to her.”
 
“Oh.”
 
The light turned green and they rode in silence while the storm built, fear increasing with every block. At the top of Hospital Hill, he pulled into a parking lot and shut off the engine. They turned toward each other, and the quiet became a contest of wills. Holly was the one to blink.
 
“Can I tell you something and you won’t get mad?” 
 
“I can’t ever get mad at you.” He said with a tinge of sarcasm. 
 
“I have a confession to make.” The pale blue eyes began to fill. “When I first asked to come down here, I lied about my brother not wanting me to get treatments. I was supposed to steal your money.” 
 
Like a boxer who had just taken a sucker punch, Bart stared at the sobbing figure.
 
“Baby, I’m a hooker... a prostitute. Been one off and on since I was fourteen. Holly isn’t even my real name. It’s Rose McKinney. Holly is one of several profiles I used to find customers. Most of the time, it’s a straight forward thing. Make an agreement, go to where they guy is, hook up, then I get paid. If you haven’t guessed, Psycho was my pimp. He was also my Step Brother. If I didn’t do what he said, he’d beat me up, just like he did the first time when I was ten.”
 
Pulling a tissue out of the console dispenser, she dabbed her eyes.
 
“He found out about our Facebook stuff when he was out on bail. He thought you’d be a good mark. The scam was to get you happy and distracted, then empty your bank account. ”
 
Mind spinning, it took a full five seconds for him to respond.
 
“I thought you said he was in jail.”
 
The bird like face turned toward the window. A sculpture of an ancient doctor over the door looked back. A gate opened and with a sigh, she continued.
 
“He was, but that didn’t stop the threats. About a week after I got here though, he was killed in a fight and the texts stopped.”
 
He took the frail, heaving shoulders into his lap and rubbed gently along her back. 
 
“You’re safe now.”
 
The tears were a river flowing freely. 
 
“Remember when I asked you if you believed in ghosts? After I saw the picture of Amy in your bathroom that first night,I realized couldn’t t go through with it. You were too loving and caring and the angel was watching. I have been a bad girl most of my life. But the Angel always bailed me out, even though I never deserved it.” 
 
With a sudden jerk, he pulled her up to face him.
 
“Want to know something? I wondered more that once whether you were real. That first night was the best sex I’d ever had in my life and I was terrified I’d dropped into something bad. But, Amy was there, comforting me. Angels know the difference between abuse and evil, And they know when there is a loving girl wanting to be free. Amy is and was my angel.” 
 
The voice softened.
 
“You are an angel, too. You spent your life on a bad path chosen for you. The journey is never easy, but you’re home now. Let’s make the most of it.”

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Topic-Misty Minnesota Morning- Dave Raider (who is hiding these days)
Pic- Rutger Siskens
Pic guesses- Doctor (in blog), Healer, Apothecary, sculpture (in blog), Medicine, Hospital (in blog), Witch, Greek, Roman, Bas Relief, Cast.

2 comments:

  1. Interesting, a 'Pretty Woman' sort of happy ending. Of course I kept waiting to see if he was going to be a serial killer, or the angel of death--but then I write horror.

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    Replies
    1. Nah, Bart is just a schlub widower trying to heal. Holly is a terminally ill street girl trying to make amends. Yeah, I could have written either character evil, but frankly we have too much of that out there already.

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