Windfall Read Free Page A

people in the movie that she’s ugly? And then there’s the moment when she takes them off, and everybody gasps and says she’s gorgeous? Magic glasses.”
    I stopped in the act of sipping coffee and braced myself as Genevieve tamed a tangle in my hair by the simple, brutally efficient method of yanking it out by the roots. I swallowed and repeated shakily, “Magic glasses.”
    â€œLike Clark Kent.” Cherise beamed. “The outfits are your magic glasses, only instead of everybody being fooled, they’re in on the joke. It’s an open secret that you’re totally hot under all that geek disguise. It’s very meta.”
    â€œYou’re not originally from here, are you?” I asked.
    â€œFlorida?”
    â€œThe third planet from the sun.”
    She had a cute smile, one side lifting higher than the other and waking a dimple. I saw one of the office guys leaning in the door, mooning at her—not mooning her, mooning at her—but then there was always somebody doing that, and Cherise never seemed to notice, much less mind. Oddly, none of her admirers seemed capable of asking her out. Then again, maybe they knew something I didn’t.
    â€œHow many hits?” I asked.
    â€œAre we doing the drug talk again?”
    I eyerolled. “To the web page, geek.”
    â€œCouple hundred thousand so far.”
    â€œYou’re kidding!”
    â€œUm, not! The IT guys told me all about it.” This was not surprising, because I was sure the IT guys tried to chat her up all the time. What was surprising was that Cherise had actually listened .
    â€œWhat were you doing listening to IT guys?”
    She raised an eyebrow. “We were talking about The X-Files. You know? Remember? The show with Mulder and Scully and . . .”
    Oh, right. Alien invasions. Weird occurrences. This was, strangely, right up Cherise’s alley. Hence the tattoo.
    The coffee was decent, which was a surprise; generally it was rancid stuff, even early in the morning, because the station wasn’t exactly upmarket. Maybe somebody had gotten disgusted and popped for Starbucks again. I consoled myself with sips as Genevieve continued to torture my hair. She was backcombing, or possibly weeding.
    â€œSo? You got the rest of the day off?” Cherise asked. I was unable to move my head to nod, so I flapped my hand in a vague yes . “Cool. I have to do some voice promo stuff tomorrow, but I’m outta here for the day. Want to go shopping? I figure we can hit the mall around ten.”
    It was seven A . M ., but that was Cherise. She knew the opening schedule of every store in a tri-state area, and she planned ahead.
    Genevieve picked up the hair dryer. My scalp cringed, anticipating third-degree burns. I’d have stopped her, but the weird thing was that at the end of all of this torture, I’d look great. That was Genevieve’s special gift.
    â€œI absolutely need to shop,” I said. Shopping has a deeply therapeutic effect when you’re trapped in a less-than-ideal life situation.
    Shopping with money would have been even better, but hell. Can’t have everything.
    Â 
    Fort Lauderdale mornings are beautiful. Soft cerulean skies, layered with pink and gold. Smog is kept to a minimum by the fresh ocean breezes. When I stepped outside of the big concrete box of WXTV-38, I had to stop and appreciate it as only a Warden can.
    I closed my eyes, lifted my face to the sun, and left my body to drift up to the aetheric level. It was a little hard to do, these days; I was tired, and out of practice, and it felt sometimes like I had more than my share of worries. Hard to get metaphysical when you’re tied so closely to the real world.
    Up there on the aetheric, once I’d achieve it, things were serene, too; glowing bands of brilliant color, swirling and moving together, everything lazy and calm. Out toward the sea there was energy, but it was carefully