Windfall Page 0,3

coming out of it a normal, unmagical human being, I'd come out a drooling zombie, fed and diapered at the Wardens' expense.

They weren't likely to do that to me unless they had to, though. The Wardens needed people they could trust. The organization had taken a lot of hits, from within and without, and they couldn't afford to burn bridges, even as shaky and unreliable a bridge as I represented.

I sighed and rubbed moisture from my hair, eyes closed. There were days-more rather than fewer, now-when I really regretted giving in to the impulse to fling it in their faces and walk away. I was one speed-dial away from having my life back.

But there were reasons why that was a bad idea, principal among them that I would lose the one thing in my life that really meant something to me. I'd willingly live in a crappy apartment and wear secondhand clothes and knockoff shoes for David's sake, for as long as it took.

That had to be true and eternal love.

"Yo, Jo."

I looked up from vigorous toweling and found a steaming cup of coffee in front of my nose. My benefactor and personal deity was a petite little blonde who went by the name of Cherise, impossibly young and pretty, with a beach tan and limpid blue eyes and a fine sense of the inappropriate. I liked her, even though she was just too damn cute to live. Not everybody in my new life was a burden.

Cherise made the days just a little bit brighter.

"Nice 'do," she said, poker-faced. "Is poodle-hair coming back in style?"

"Didn't you get the latest Vogue? Next big thing. Poofy hair. And Earth Shoes are making a huge comeback."

"I don't know, honey, you've got sort of a Bride of Frankenstein meets Shirley Temple look going on there. I'd page the emergency stylist on call."

She, of course, looked perfect. She was wearing a midriff-baring mesh knit top with big yellow smiley faces, and a Day-Glo orange camisole underneath. I envied the outfit, but not the pierced belly button. Low-rise hiphuggers showed off smooth, sculpted curves. The shoes were designer flip-flops with little orange-and-yellow jeweled bees for decoration. She smiled as I took inventory, lifted her arms, and did a perfect runway twirl. "Well? What's my fashion score of the day?"

I considered. "Nine," I said.

Cherise whipped back around, offended. "Nine? You're kidding!"

"I deducted for nonmatching nail polish." I pointed at her toes. Sure enough, she was wearing yesterday's Lime Glitter Surprise.

"Damn." She frowned down at her shapely toes, one of which had a little silver ring. "But I got points for the new tat, right?"

I'd missed it during the twirl. "Let me see."

She turned around and pointed at the small of her back. Just at the point where the hiphuggers met the curve, there was an indigo-fresh...

I blinked, because it was a big-eyed alien head. Space aliens.

"Nice," I said, tilting my head to study it. The skin was still flushed. "Hurt much?"

She shrugged, eyeing a woman in a conservative black pantsuit who'd come in and given her one of those blankly disapproving looks, the kind reserved for girls in hiphuggers, tattoos, and belly button piercings. I saw the demon spark in Cherise's eyes. She pitched her voice to carry. "Well, you know, those tattoos kind of sting. So I did a little coke to take the edge off."

The woman, who was reaching for a coffee mug, froze. I watched her rigid, French-manicured hand slowly resume its forward motion.

"Smoked or snorted?" I asked. Still the straight woman. Apparently, it was my new karmic path.

"Smoked," Cherise said blandly. "Best way to get my high on, but then I got all, you know, nervous. So I smoked a couple of spliffs to calm down."

The woman left, coffee mug clenched in white knuckles.

"HR?" I guessed.

"Yeah, drug testing. I'll be peeing in a cup within the hour. So." Cherise dropped into the chair next to me as I applied the towel to my feet. "I hear you have an interview for the weekend forecast position."

"Yeah." I wiggled my damp toes and felt the drag of clinging hose. "Not that I have a chance in hell, but..." But it was more money, and would get me out of the humiliation business, and I wouldn't miss being Joanne Baldwin, Weather Warden quite so fiercely if I had something