focused right on me.
“Gather the bones, Chérie,” said one of the figures.
“Bring them home,” said the other.
“Find and gather. Reassemble. Make whole. Renew…” they chanted.
I knew, in that way you know something in a dream that things were going to change soon. I looked out at the horizon and watched a thunderbolt split the sky. A light drizzle started to fall, wetting my face, my eyelashes, and my hair. The chanting continued, hypnotizing me. I spread my boneless arms and willed myself to fly, their voices fading into the night.
Chapter 5
The next couple of weeks went by without incident. I was so busy I nearly forgot about the dark haired guy in the club. Cam and I planned for our upcoming rock climbing trip, purchasing needed supplies with our limited income. We always splurged on equipment for our sports. Cam believed that, when it came to our safety, scrimping was not an option. Hence, we bought the best quality ropes, carabiners – metal rings with a spring clip used to attach a rope to climbing gear - figure eights, and other climbing equipment we could afford. I had purchased a good pair of used climbing shoes last year, as well as a quality used harness so I was all set. All I needed was a pair of new climbing pants.
A growing excitement as well as camaraderie grew between us as we prepared. The only hurdle to get through was that damn Northwest auction gala. Yesterday, I had spied Sue and Kate whispering in the hall as Jill pulled me into her office for a meeting about said fundraiser. They glanced over my way and giggled.
“Hey, Cheerio,” Kate called. “Thanks a million for covering for us. Oh, right, I already said that. Don’t want it to go to your head.”
Sue added, “You’re really just the lass for the night, girlfriend.” Why she had to add “girlfriend” was anybody’s guess. We were SO not friends. She and Sue had bumped knuckles and wiggled their fingers at each other and roared with laughter.
What was their problem? I wondered, gloomily, stepping into Jill’s stuffy office, my red sneaker soles catching on the linoleum. I lurched towards her desk before catching my balance. Today, her office smelled like stale perspiration and printer toner. Jill looked up from her pile of freshly printed papers. She wore a low-cut white blouse. Her heaving breasts appeared tortured as they peeked out over the edges of a huge white lace bra that cut into her skin. I imagined a set of pleading eyes on each breast, begging for release. She gestured towards an older man sitting in a chair to the right of her desk. She gives me one of her menacing glares before stretching her face in what must be a smile. I took a step backwards in fear.
“Chérie Manhattan, meet Joe Dallas. You’ll be Joe’s…Mr. Dallas’, I mean, Go-To girl at the fundraiser.”
The man, around forty-five years old, had graying brown hair and a pock-marked face. His teeth were stained a puke yellow hue. He had a handkerchief in his hand and kept mopping his brow. I noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he raised it to his forehead as if even he were hesitant to touch his greasy face. A green polo shirt stretched across his immense paunchy frame. A wrinkled jacket was folded in his lap. He plastered a leer across his puffy face and looked in my direction. I wrinkled my nose in distaste, a queasy feeling churning in my gut.
“What do I have to do?”
“Mr. Dallas is our M.C. for the evening. He’ll command the auction…with excellence I might add!” She paused and gave him a conspiratorial smile. A rosy blush flowered in her tight, strained cheeks. “…and you’ll need to fetch the auction items, hand him descriptions of the pieces we want to sell, things like that.” She added, “You’ll need to dress very well, very well indeed.” She nodded to herself and to Joe as if that was obvious.
Joe Dallas chimed in. “Yes, wearing suggestive attire will help us sell things, sweetheart. You dress
“Gather the bones, Chérie,” said one of the figures.
“Bring them home,” said the other.
“Find and gather. Reassemble. Make whole. Renew…” they chanted.
I knew, in that way you know something in a dream that things were going to change soon. I looked out at the horizon and watched a thunderbolt split the sky. A light drizzle started to fall, wetting my face, my eyelashes, and my hair. The chanting continued, hypnotizing me. I spread my boneless arms and willed myself to fly, their voices fading into the night.
Chapter 5
The next couple of weeks went by without incident. I was so busy I nearly forgot about the dark haired guy in the club. Cam and I planned for our upcoming rock climbing trip, purchasing needed supplies with our limited income. We always splurged on equipment for our sports. Cam believed that, when it came to our safety, scrimping was not an option. Hence, we bought the best quality ropes, carabiners – metal rings with a spring clip used to attach a rope to climbing gear - figure eights, and other climbing equipment we could afford. I had purchased a good pair of used climbing shoes last year, as well as a quality used harness so I was all set. All I needed was a pair of new climbing pants.
A growing excitement as well as camaraderie grew between us as we prepared. The only hurdle to get through was that damn Northwest auction gala. Yesterday, I had spied Sue and Kate whispering in the hall as Jill pulled me into her office for a meeting about said fundraiser. They glanced over my way and giggled.
“Hey, Cheerio,” Kate called. “Thanks a million for covering for us. Oh, right, I already said that. Don’t want it to go to your head.”
Sue added, “You’re really just the lass for the night, girlfriend.” Why she had to add “girlfriend” was anybody’s guess. We were SO not friends. She and Sue had bumped knuckles and wiggled their fingers at each other and roared with laughter.
What was their problem? I wondered, gloomily, stepping into Jill’s stuffy office, my red sneaker soles catching on the linoleum. I lurched towards her desk before catching my balance. Today, her office smelled like stale perspiration and printer toner. Jill looked up from her pile of freshly printed papers. She wore a low-cut white blouse. Her heaving breasts appeared tortured as they peeked out over the edges of a huge white lace bra that cut into her skin. I imagined a set of pleading eyes on each breast, begging for release. She gestured towards an older man sitting in a chair to the right of her desk. She gives me one of her menacing glares before stretching her face in what must be a smile. I took a step backwards in fear.
“Chérie Manhattan, meet Joe Dallas. You’ll be Joe’s…Mr. Dallas’, I mean, Go-To girl at the fundraiser.”
The man, around forty-five years old, had graying brown hair and a pock-marked face. His teeth were stained a puke yellow hue. He had a handkerchief in his hand and kept mopping his brow. I noticed a slight tremor in his hand as he raised it to his forehead as if even he were hesitant to touch his greasy face. A green polo shirt stretched across his immense paunchy frame. A wrinkled jacket was folded in his lap. He plastered a leer across his puffy face and looked in my direction. I wrinkled my nose in distaste, a queasy feeling churning in my gut.
“What do I have to do?”
“Mr. Dallas is our M.C. for the evening. He’ll command the auction…with excellence I might add!” She paused and gave him a conspiratorial smile. A rosy blush flowered in her tight, strained cheeks. “…and you’ll need to fetch the auction items, hand him descriptions of the pieces we want to sell, things like that.” She added, “You’ll need to dress very well, very well indeed.” She nodded to herself and to Joe as if that was obvious.
Joe Dallas chimed in. “Yes, wearing suggestive attire will help us sell things, sweetheart. You dress
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