SNOW GLOBE (2 page)

“Damn. I can’t lose another job,” Aja murmured as she hid behind her neighbor’s big oak tree and slipped her shoes on. She looked at her phone clock, realizing she had just a little more than thirty minutes to get to the mall. An easy ten-minute drive, but an impossible walk. Then, she never got a piece of Mrs. Wells’s coffee cake. Almost worth getting busted for.

She heard her mother call her. “Aja?”

Aja peeked from behind the tree and saw her mom stick her head out the screen door. “Aja?”

Aja caught her mom’s eye, then hid behind the tree again, trying to make herself as small as possible.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know where she went.” The creaky screen door bounced shut. Aja knew her mom wouldn’t give her up.

Rocky opened the door and stepped into the backyard. Aja held her breath, praying he didn’t see her.

“She couldn’t have gone far,” Rocky’s big voice boomed. “Her car’s still hissing.”

“I’m sure she got a ride or something,” Aja’s mom said. “Let’s check out front.”

“Is that naked man still there?” Rocky bellowed. “Mrs. Harmon…”

“That’s Ms. I’m not married.”

Aja snuck a quick glance from behind the tree and saw her mom hold the screen door open for Rocky.

“And you allow your teenage child to view nude men standing in your living room? What kind of home is this?” Rocky said.

Aja heard the creepy officer say, “We need to report a 311 indecent exposure here.”

“I’m hosting an art class,” her mom said. Before the door shut, Aja’s mom glanced at her. “Call me,” she mouthed as she surreptitiously signaled, miming a phone to her ear.

Aja had no choice but to walk to work. She could already feel the fake leather of the uncomfortable sandals rubbing her heels as she set off down the alley. She was wearing shorts she’d bought at Target, a big no-no at Abercrombie. But there’d been no time to change. Stealing a glance between the houses, Aja saw Rocky sitting in his car, waiting.

“Damn,” Aja said to herself. “All for forty stupid dollars.” She hoisted her purse on her shoulder and ducked through the neighborhood to the main street.

A few scorching blocks later, she turned to face oncoming traffic and was considering sticking her thumb out when an old sky-blue Buick pulled to the side of the road.

“Need a ride?” a male voice asked.

Aja backed away. This was a guy, alone, and she didn’t want to do something else stupid like get abducted while she was trying to ditch the police. She felt in her purse for her trusty needle-nose pliers her mom made her keep for protection—or in case a rivet needed tightening.

“I’ll be happy to give a fugitive a ride, unless I’m putting myself in danger.”

Aja peeked in the window and noticed the male model from her mom’s art class behind the wheel, now dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. Foil packages were wrapped on the seat beside him. No doubt leftovers, including her piece of Mrs. Wells’s coffee cake.

“I’m not a fugitive…” She saw Rocky’s car pull into the street to turn from her subdivision. Quickly she jumped in beside the model and closed the door.

“Hi, I’m Walker. Your mom sent me to check on you.”

“I’m Aja.” She cut a glance behind her as Rocky turned into traffic. She slunk down in her seat.

“Asia? As in the continent?” Walker asked.

“No, Aja, as in Steely Dan.”

“Who? Aren’t they like an old rock band?”

“Yeah, sort of. My mom likes them. I know it’s a weird name, but it fits. Can I use your phone to text my mom? I left mine at home.”

Walker smiled and handed Aja his phone. “So you’re not a fugitive, but you’re afraid of the police?”

“It’s a long story,” Aja said, typing. “Any chance you could drop me at the mall?”

“My pleasure,” Walker said, and flashed a wide grin as Rocky’s car passed by. “What’s a nice girl like you doing on the lam?” he asked as he pulled into traffic.

Aja stayed low in her seat and tossed his phone on the seat. “I’m sort of a problem kid at school, and I proved it to them again today. Officer Rocky and I are old friends, and I can’t be late for work again. That’s why I didn’t want to hang around while he was there.” Aja sat up a little higher. “So what’s your story? A male stripper wannabe?”

“Very funny. I’m a student making some extra money posing for a nice group of artists. One of the art teachers posted the ad at school. I’m, um, trying new things.” He blushed a little. “I didn’t expect anyone else except some older ladies. Did you see anything?”

“You were on a pedestal.” Aja settled in her seat and smiled. “Hard to miss.”

Walker laughed. “Then I hope I made a good first impression.” He glanced at her. “So where do you work?”

“Abercrombie. And they’ll be mad if I’m late again.” She looked at her outfit. “Plus, I didn’t have time to change into their clothes, so I’ll probably have to fold all night.”

“What time do you get off tonight? Will you need a ride home?” Walker looked at her. “Maybe we could hang out.”

Aja hesitated. He was cute, but she wasn’t sure she could get interested in a guy that stripped for money. Although he had an aura of goodness around him that pulled her in more than she wanted. “Thanks, I’ll call my mom,” Aja said, shaking the lure of this guy’s magnetic energy. “Where do you go to school?”

“At the community college. I just started this fall.”

“Where did you go to high school?”

“Chicago area,” Walker said. “Just graduated high school last year.”

“And you came all the way to Dallas for a community college education?”

“Yeah, sort of.” He turned into the mall parking lot. “My grandfather has Alzheimer’s and is in an assisted living home. My grandmother decided to move with him but couldn’t bear to sell their house.” Walker stopped at the entrance. “They said they’d pay for me to go to school if I’d stay in their house and keep it up.” He shook his head. “It’s really sad to see him go in and out of his life.”

“That’s rough. Sorry,” Aja said. “It’s nice of you to be here for them.”

“Yeah, and I get to shake life up a little by moving to Texas.” Walker turned to her and smiled. “I’m heading to the home now to have dinner with them.” He laughed. “I used to sleep till noon, eat lunch at five o’clock. When I have dinner with them the food’s so bland it’s like eating air and we’re done by six.”

Aja eyed his foil-wrapped packages. “And I suppose you’re going to eat my piece of Mrs. Wells’s coffee cake later tonight.”

Walker grinned and raised an eyebrow. “It was worth getting naked for.” He reached for a pen and paper. “Here’s my number in case your mom can’t pick you up. I’d be happy to.”

Aja took his number and put it in her purse. “Thanks.”

Walker looked at her. “It must be pretty cool to have a mom like yours, being a psychic and all. I hear she also sings with a band.”

Aja shrugged. “She’s cool most of the time, but mostly I feel like we’re the town idiots.”

“Does she ever do readings for you?”

“Hardly ever. She says it’s hard for her to see my aura, and she gets really weird afterward. Usually a psychic can’t read people that are close to them.”

“Really?”

Aja shifted the focus from her mom’s intuitive gift. Aja hated her own abilities to “see dead people” or see inside a person’s heart. She’d discovered her talent when she was four or five but didn’t realize it until years later. She could see colors in her mom’s angel snow globe, especially after she shook it. Somehow she knew they were from people, but she was never afraid of them. About the same age, when Aja watched TV, she was often joined by a young boy who wore a baseball cap and would sit on the floor next to the couch, never letting Aja see his face. He said he was in a fire and looked weird. Her mom had at first thought he was an imaginary friend Aja had invented, but then sensed Aja was seeing a spirit. As soon as her mom tried to seek his aura, he never came back.

Aja glanced at Walker. “Apparently, according to my psychic Mom, I’m either an old soul or have a bunch of old souls around me.” Aja closed her floppy denim purse.

“Maybe you need to come to dinner with me and my grandparents tonight. Make your mom’s ‘old soul’ vision come true.” Walker raised his eyebrows playfully.

Aja shook her head. “No thanks; old people annoy me. They drool, shuffle, and…I don’t know—it all kind of weirds me out.” Aja opened the car door. “Thanks again for the ride. I’ve got to run. I’m already late.”

“Maybe another time?” Walker looked hopeful.

“Sure. I’ve got your number,” Aja said, as she got out. She stood on the sidewalk and watched him drive away. He was pretty cute, seemed nice enough, but the last thing Aja needed was an anchor to hold her to Dallas even though she was hypnotically drawn to his radiant personality.

Chapter 3

Aja punched in ten minutes late while her manager stood and watched, arms crossed. He made a point to look at his watch.

“Sorry, I had to get a ride.”

“Again? You need to get rid of the rust bucket you drive. How many times have you used that excuse?” He looked her up and down. “And why aren’t you wearing our line? You’ve been warned about that, too.” He raised an eyebrow and pointed at her butt. “Please don’t tell me those shorts say Massimo on them. Target?”

I’m surprised the alarms didn’t go off when I came in, Aja thought, and smiled uncomfortably. “I was in a huge hurry and didn’t have time to change.”

“Go buy something you can wear, then fold and stock these.” He pushed forward a messy rack stuffed with clothes that customers had tried on. “This should keep you busy.”

Aja didn’t argue but went to the clearance rack and picked a madras skirt marked fifty percent off. She’d been waiting for it to go to seventy percent, but, oh, well. Aja went to the counter to pay. The perky cashier, Taylor, rang her up at the register. “Got stuck with the rack again tonight?” She tossed her blonde curly hair. “Good, because after the register I get to model the new line.” Abercrombie employees had to be beautiful or they didn’t get hired. The privileged got to stand around and look good for the customers. “Guess you won’t have to worry about that tonight, wearing a clearance skirt.”

“Guess not.” Aja glowered as she grabbed the skirt and stomped off to the dressing rooms.

About an hour into her shift, she’d gotten most of the clothes put away, Aja went to the dressing rooms to clean up the new piles of clothes customers dropped on the floor.

“Slobs,” she muttered, clipping shorts onto a hanger. A kid, wailing and crying, was dragged into the dressing room by her young mother.

“I want to go!” the little girl cried, trying to pull away from her mother’s tight grip around her arm.

Aja hated screaming kids but was appalled by the tight hold the mother had on the child. She could see red marks on her little arm from the woman’s fingers.

“We’ll go when I say.” The mother shook the child. “Do you understand?”

“I’m hungry.” The girl couldn’t have been more than five or six. Her big brown eyes were filled with tears, and her face was swollen and red.

“Shut-up!” The mom gave the child another shake, almost pushing the kid to the floor. “I don’t want to hear another word.”

Aja stared hard at the woman hoping to embarrass her enough to stop. Aja saw the woman’s aura as angry red. She forced herself to stop the psychic vision. The girl rubbed her arm and hiccupped sobs.

“I’m…hungry,” the little girl whispered.

The mother slapped the girl across the face. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

The sound was like a shot. Aja dropped the handful of clothes and ran to the mother. “Stop! Are you nuts?”

The child’s mouth was open in a silent cry, and she held her face where red marks and tears glistened on her cheek.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my kid.” The young mother faced Aja. “Unless you want a piece of me.”

“You do that to me, and I’ll have your ass thrown in jail.” Aja got in the woman’s face, her fists clenched. “I’m calling the police.”

“Aja, what’s going on?” Her manager ran into the dressing room.

“That woman just slapped the crap out of her kid.”

“I’m going to file a complaint with this store.” The woman crossed her arms, baring a large tattoo of a cross on her upper arm. “I don’t need this stupid-assed clerk telling me what to do.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I’ll talk to her,” her manager said.

“Damn right you will.”

“Wait, this woman just hit her kid and I’m the one being talked to?” Aja shook her head. “We need to call CPS or the police.” Aja bit her tongue on the word police. The way things were going, she’d get tossed in jail.

“Aja, back off.” Her manager got between them.

The little girl, still crying silently but watching the grown-ups intently, moved closer to her mother.

“Don’t take that, kid,” Aja said to the child. “Dial 911.” Aja glared at the mother. “If you didn’t want kids, you shouldn’t have had them. They’re not punching bags.”

“Aja,” her manager warned.

“People like that shouldn’t be allowed to have kids.” Aja threw her hands up.