"ANGELS IN HELL" A SHORT STORY

"ANGELS IN HELL"

"Can you believe, she thinks she is going to be interviewing us? Please!" I winked at Mary upon hanging up the receiver, "When will they ever learn?" "Yeah," my partner chuckled, "We are checking HER out, not the other way around." "Well, we have to meet her and the mutt in a little while, maybe even take him out for a quickie. It shouldn't take too long and hopefully, we'll click and get the business. Lord knows we could use another regular and the owner swears her baby is a cutie pie and sweet as sugar." Mary nodded in agreement.

Before the bell could even be rung, a viciously barking dog was scratching and clawing at the door. We jumped back simultaneously, hoping the wood separating us was sturdy enough to hold the now snarling beast behind it. "This may not be as easy as I thought," I whispered to Mary. She didn't argue. I think she was too scared to speak. "Look, the dog is probably just a little protective. The woman says he's a sweetie once he gets to know you." "Uh huh," Mary mumbled still frozen on the spot. "OK. Here goes," I said, pushing her forward with some effort. "Let's hope his bark IS worse than his bite." I, cautiously, rang the bell and grimaced.

It took what seemed like forever for the intercom to be answered. All the while our potential client was angrily growling from within. "Just a minute," we were told, "I'm coming. Let me put the baby on his leash." A loud commotion was going on inside the apartment now. Mary and I looked at each other apprehensively, not knowing what to expect. We opted to bolt, but by then we were stuck. The chain was sliding back. Locks were being turned. The door swung wide and a large, attractive, black woman greeted us. She had a cast up to her hip and was on crutches. Hopefully, "baby" didn't cause this injury.

"Come on in and make yourself at home," the woman welcomed, "I'll let you settle down and then, will get West. He is so excited and anxious to meet you." "Can't wait," I said in the cheeriest voice I could muster. I elbowed Mary. "Can't wait," she echoed, though not as enthusiastically.

Stacy hopped off to get what type of creature we couldn't help but imagine. We braced ourselves and hoped for the best or, at least, a swift and merciful death in his jaws.

Out bounded a massive animal heading in our direction. "Christ, it's a wolf," I gasped to my partner. By the sound of her rapid breathing and muffled scream, I had an inkling she shared in my appraisal. Moving closer to me, almost in my lap, as a matter of fact, she grabbed my hand and squeezed it so tightly the veins nearly popped. The dog stopped inches away from where we were sitting and glared at us. Thankfully, our sphincters held or it would have been an embarrassing first meeting.

"Isn't he adorable?" We heard his owner coo. "Absolutely precious," I reluctantly concurred. "Precious," Mary barely was able to mutter. She hadn't fainted after-all. Damn neither had I for that matter.

West ended up not being a wolf, but a huge, and I mean huge, German Shepard. "Thank God for small favors," I silently thought. He approached with hackles raised, gave our rigid bodies a thorough sniff, and although, he bared his teeth a couple times, left us both unscathed. Well, there was that little accident, but the bleeding stopped with pressure and I was sure Mary wouldn't be permanently scarred.

"I knew he would like you two. He is just a lamb." Stacy called from the kitchen, "Can I get you girls a drink?" Obviously, she wasn't suggesting liquor, but a little liquid anesthesia would have been handy in taking our stress level down a notch. Too bad we were sober and would remain clear thinking. "I've got the kettle on and could make us all some tea," our hostess offered. "Sounds good," I said politely, "But let me give you a hand."

I got up from the couch, prying my fingers from Mary's grip, and headed toward where Stacy teetered over the stove. West was at my heels. "Look at that. I think he is bonding with you already, Cherie." "Sure seems so," I agreed, hoping it wasn't his ploy to nip at my ankles. All this dogwalker needed was a severed Achilles tendon.

We all settled back on the sofa. Mary had a smile plastered on her face. To her credit, she, at least, was able to look cordial and at ease, and even managed to utter a word here and there. "Do I detect a Southern accent?" Stacy inquired. "Is it that noticeable?" I responded. "Sure is. You can beat it with a stick." "Well, I'm from Nawlins," I exaggerated my drawl. "And I'm from Southern California," Mary piped in. "I knew it, I knew it," Stacy grinned, "I've got folks from down yonder. Small world isn't it?" We nodded. "You know, the more I look at you, Cherie, I'll bet you're Creole. Am I right?" "You're on target again. I can't believe how perceptive you are," I fibbed. "Yes, I can see a tinge of black blood in you. Is it on your mother or father's side?" she asked. "My mother's," I lied through my teeth not missing a beat, "In fact, the family had a plantation. And, if I remember correctly, my great-great grandmother was a slave." Mary gave me an incredulous side-glance and pinch. I realized I had gone too far and it was time for me to shut up. But Stacy wanted all the details and for the next half hour or so, I went on and on with one fabrication after another. You'd have thought my ancestors and me were a chapter in "Roots" by the time I finished.

"I'll be back in a sec," Stacy excused herself, "I'm on diuretics and have to pee constantly." "Take your time. We'll get to know West better while you're gone," I offered. "Sounds good to me too," Mary chimed in.

We watched her hobble off and when she was sure Stacy was out of earshot, Mary started in on me. "Jesus Christ, Cherie I know we need money, but you just told that woman you were a Negro, Black, African American. Talk about pulling the race card. Are you crazy?" "Well, there's always a chance," I weakly began. "You're insane," Mary went on, "Not to mention this situation. Let's get the Hell out of here." "Aw, come on, Sweetpea it's not so bad. The lady's nice enough and West has calmed down and doesn't seem to be in attack mode anymore," I pointed out. "Right, it wasn't you he chomped," Mary said sarcastically. "Well, look he's trying to be friends now. He's sorry. Go on and give him a pet, Sweetie," I cajoled, quickly adding, "But remember, no sudden moves."

When our hostess finally returned, we figured we should start getting the show on the road. "Why don't Mary and I take West down for a spin around the corner?" I suggested. "That would be great and so thoughtful," she answered. We leashed up the brute and started out of the door. "I'll leave it open and when you get back we can talk money," she called to us. That sounded good.

Damn the dog had super canine strength. He almost yanked my arm out of its socket and I wondered if he was downing steroids with his Alpo. Mary fell behind, as he dragged me half-way down the block, only stopping momentarily to lunge at whatever unsuspecting pets came his way.

"Hey, give me a hand," I called back to Mary. "You seem to be doing alright by yourself, Dog Whore," she said upon catching up to us. "What do you mean? Dog Whore?" I asked a tad hurt. "Cherie, I can't believe you. Did you hear yourself? The bullshit you were shoveling was too fucking much." "Actually, I thought it was just enough," I quipped trying to be funny. But, she apparently was in no mood. She looked me in the eyes, then down at the giant fur ball, then eyeballed me again. "Do we really want to do this dog? Is it really worth the hassle?" Before I could answer, she continued, "I mean we've been up there for God only knows how long. We have yet to talk price. Instead, we are having tea and cookies with some lame woman, pun intended. She is obviously lonely and desperate to hear your tales of the old South. I'm surprised you didn't start humming a spiritual." "OK OK I did stretch the truth a little bit," I said defensively, "But I would be shocked if we didn't get this account." "Shocked!!! Who the fuck else would want to walk this spawn of Satan?" She then went on in a more subdued tone, "I know you've been doing this for quite some time. And I still have a lot to learn. But, I never imagined tripping through the cotton fields and risking being human tartare was part of the job description. Call me stupid." I decided not to follow the last suggestion. "Do I sense a bit of hostility, Mary?" "No, I'll leave that to West. He's far better at it then I could ever be. And I'd never want to offend you and have you report me to the NAACP."

"How'd it go? Was he good? He didn't tug did he?" "Just fine. He's a prince. There was no problem whatsoever," I answered, making a mental note to pick up some BenGay on my way home. I really think the prince dislocated my shoulder when he didn't tug. But better me than Mary. I dreaded more what she'd have in store for me once we left.

"Now, what is your rate per hour, girls?" "It starts at $10.00 for thirty minutes. And honestly I don't think the boy needs more than that," I informed her. Yes, it was cutting off my nose to spite my face financially, but I'd go broke buying linament if I had to do double time with the bruiser on a daily basis. And I had a sneaking suspicion Mary was going to be strolling only poodles and bichons from now on, leaving me to care for this monster on my own.

"That's more than fair. And since I'm laid up, it would be better for me to hire you for less time at the moment," Stacy concurred. "It's settled then. Just give us a ring and we'll be here with bells on," I smiled.

Things were finally drawing to a close. Mary was beginning to fidget beside me. I was so anxious to be leaving, I also began to squirm. Stacy sensed our uncomfortability but read it all wrong. "Oh my," she voiced concern, "You two are starting to sweat. It must have been hot as Hades outside. I'll get something cold for you to drink." "No! No!" We protested in unison, "Don't bother yourself. We'll be alright." Stacy leaned back, evidently relieved she didn't have to make another stab at precariously carrying a tray of beverages. But, could I leave well enough alone? Could I grab Mary and head for the nearest exit? Of course not!

"I'm sure I'll feel cooler if I just wear my tank top. This blouse is sweltering," I nonchalantly commented while slipping out of its sleeves. As the words were passing my lips, I knew I made a huge mistake. It went without saying, Mary was about to slap me silly for delaying us even a smidgen longer. And in addition, the air was thick with a terrible foreboding I just couldn't put a finger on.

Stacy cast her eyes to my left breast. "Is that a tattoo I see peeking," she inquired with interest. "Uh huh," I mumbled. And then, before I knew what came over me, I stood up, raised the tank top above my head and showed the woman my naked tits. I heard Mary gasp in horror. I heard Stacy gasp, but in God forbid, arousal. We were doomed. We'd never escape now. Even West was licking his chops.

"Cherie," Mary cried, "What are you doing?" I started to apologize profusely. Stacy interrupted, "You have nothing to be sorry for. That vine with roses is gorgeous," she observed a wee bit too closely. "Thanks so much. I'm glad you like it. I feel a little chilly now though." I grabbed my over shirt and threw it back on, glancing at my watch as I did. "Jesus, I can't believe how late it's gotten to be. We have another appointment with a Boston Terrier. It's been terrific and I'll wait to hear from you about when to begin walking West." I was babbling.

Mary and I jumped to our feet and started to move quickly across the room. A split second more and we would have made it. We would have been free.

"Not so fast," Stacy commanded in a booming tone, "I've got something I want you to see before you go." I hoped she didn't hear Mary and I groan. That never made for a good impression. We, reluctantly, turned around and lumbered back to the couch in defeat. "No. Follow me," Stacy said, leading us to what we didn't know.

We walked excruciatingly slowly behind the crippled woman. Yes, her leg was broken, but why should we suffer? I felt like the condemned, hesitatingly stumbling down the green mile. So far this interview had been a fate worse than death and it wasn't over yet.

She flicked on the light. Holy Mother of God! We were in her bedroom. Would this nightmare ever end. West menacingly blocked the doorway. We were stuck.

We stood there nervously trying to ready ourselves. But nothing could have prepared us for the sight we were about to see. Stacy, in a flash, was nude below the waist. "Look. Look my angels," she urged. Now she was calling us terms of endearment. Will it ever cease? I looked at Mary and she at me and then, we both bit the bullet and looked at Stacy. Across the mammoth canvas of her ass were two cherubs. That is, I think that's what they were supposed to be. The tat was nicely inked, but good Lord the cherubs were hideously distorted and deformed. They looked all bloated and stretched. It was a horrible sight, but like encountering a traffic accident, we couldn't turn away. Stacy chuckled and her jiggling cheeks made the winged creatures appear to be laughing mockingly at us. Mary later commented, "It makes me believe there are angels in Hell."

I don't know how long we stood there fixated on the celestialite. I don't even remember leaving the apartment. And, I certainly don't have any reason to explain why Mary didn't terminate our relationship once we were safe outside. But I do know, remember, and definitely have countless reasons why we never scooped that pooch's poop. I guess it all came down to one helluva interview.

DOGS IN THE CITY by HEATHER HALEY

Heather Haley, author of the upcoming book "Window Seat", has kindly sent us a poem. "Dogs In The City" is right on target and sure to make you smile. Give it a read under the comments of my story "Janis". I'm sure Heather would love feedback and can be contacted at http://www.heatherhaley.com/onelife. Let's give this new addition to our blog family warm support.