Wiping her mouth with the dirty blue stole, she takes a shot of bourbon and chases it with a tall boy Pabst Blue Ribbon.
"What," I ask sitting at the kitchen table while Sarah and the girls sleep.
"You're not supposed to tell everybody by business," she snaps, black oily hair draped over one shoulder and her dirty white robe dropping over the other almost exposing her breast.
"You're my Guardian Angel," I reply. "I'm proud I got one! Who wouldn't want to share such a thing."
"It's a secret thing," she snaps then thoughtfully adjust the one broken wing so it's semi-symmetrical with the one that works.
"Well, I'm glad you're my Guardian Angel," I sigh.
"Jesus Christ," she says in exasperation, "between you and Jimmy Cochran ..."
"Hey somebody sent me a picture of you the other day," I interrupt.
"Really," she asks suddenly interested.
"It's not a good one," I confess. "On the up side though, you got a lot of 'Groupies'."
"Angels aren't supposed to have 'Groupies,'" she says taking a long draw from her cigarette and blowing a Halo over her head.
"Well you have quite the following," I tell her.
"Let me see the picture," she demands.
Opening my Laptop, I go to the saved pictures and open one as she leans over my shoulder smelling like Bourbon Street late at night.
"I don't look like that," she explodes taking another shot of bourbon.
"I know," I agree ... because she really doesn't. The picture is of an old white haired lady Angel smoking a cigarette and my Angel looks like Olive Oil on meth.
"Besides there are famous Angels," I remind her. "Gabriel and Michael ..."
"Both sexists," she snaps.
"I'm just saying you may be breaking the glass ceiling of Angel Sexism."
"Hmmm," she murmurs ... blowing more Halos.
"I am a little surprised there's Sexism in Heaven," I say sipping coffee.
"Thank you Eve," she shoots.
"Well, Jimmy and I love you," I sigh. "And you got Groupies!"
Staring out of the window, she processes what I've said before replying, "I've got to go to the Liquor Store," then disappears.
"What was that all about?" I ask Goddess who sighs heavily and goes back to sleep.
"Oh well," I say pouring my coffee in the sink to wash her logy away, "Jimmy Cochran's coming on island today. Maybe he knows something about it."
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