I understood now how easy it’d be to give her a brand deal. It was a humbling experience, realizing I was like everyone else. And it was surprisingly communal, finding awe in her. For a moment, I wasn’t alone.
“Most of my work involves reminding people they can be as powerful as the things that pierce the Veil,” she said. I lost my place in the conversation when Rae started moving her hand as she spoke. Her nails were almond-shaped and painted midnight blue. Each nail had a jewel glued onto it, which sparkled whenever it caught the light.
“Your fear breathes life into darkness,” she continued. “Most of the time, the people who hire me don’t need hunters; they need to face the monsters within.”
She paused for effect, those glossy, round lips parted in a small smile. Her fans offered a glowing response, clapping in reverence. Someone in front of me dabbed away tears.
They acted as if everything that rolled off her tongue was a revelation. Sure, her cliché phrases were tempting, coming from her low register and clean delivery. But she had said nothing worth more than the passing attention old greeting cards received.
“You can be your own hero. I learned that at a young age.” Rae rested her hand on her chest. “You just have to believe in the power you possess…no pun intended.”
Everyone laughed. I wanted to reevaluate all my life’s choices. Instead, I started back down the hallway.
Rae was a salesperson. The worst kind. The kind whoturned tragedy into profit. But if there was even a slight chance she could give an “all clear” assessment of the ranch so Wilson would stop waxing poetic about her (and finally put that big brain of his into thinking of non-fictional solutions to our very non-fictional problem), I’d swallow my judgement. And if she could offer a few business tips along the way, then that’d be icing on the cake.
“Can I help you?” a young woman asked as she straightened Rae’s book display.
“Just trying to get in line.” I forced a smile. “I’m nervous I won’t have time to get my book signed.”
She nodded, understanding. “The talk’s supposed to go on for another hour, though.”
“I know, it’s just…” I ruefully finished with a, “I’m a huge fan.”
She smiled, offering me a sticky note to write my name on. “She’s even more incredible up close.”
“I’m sure.” Let’s hope.
Rae was on stage for an hour and forty-five minutes, taking as many questions as time allowed. I’d just given in to crouching when she finally made it into the hall.
The area flooded with conversation and her entourage. A young, muscular guy with golden-brown skin and dark, thick curls cut just above his ears cleared the way. The scarring on his upper lip was a soft echo of a cleft lip procedure. He hesitantly offered a hand when I struggled to stand back up. I ignored it, putting far too much faith in my wobbly balance.
“Hi, so, I’m sorry,” he said in a gentle tone. “But could you step behind this tape for a second? Just until Rae gets settled in?”
“Of course.” I nodded, stumbling a bit to get behind a markedspot on the floor.
“I appreciate it,” he said before scoping out the rest of the area to ensure his boss had a clear walkway.
Rae’s voice pierced through the hum of the crowd. She answered quick questions. Her laugh was like her walk, at complete ease. If the world spun on her axis, we’d have no hope of making our cycle across the sun. By the time she got to the table, long shadows stretched across the parking lot. The sky was red, yawning its final goodbye.
“Is there water?” she asked one volunteer in a rushed whisper. “And tea? I mentioned something hot for my throat before going on.”
The volunteer went red and glanced at their equally nervous companion. A Black woman who was a couple of inches shorter than Rae and had a nearly identical wide nose and Cupid’s bow on her lip heaved out a sigh and said, “I’ll get it.”
The volunteers scrambled after the woman, extending apologies and offers to lead the way to a break room.
Rae slipped into the chair behind the table, releasing a deep, dissatisfied sigh as she sat down. She drummed her nails on the table, a flash of frustration dimming the shine of her blinding aura. Smiling at her became harder.
“Could I…?” I looked at the nice guy who’d asked me to back up.
“Rae?” he asked, turning to her for a command. “Are you ready?”
She offered a one-shoulder shrug. “As I’ll ever be.”
I stepped across the tape on the ground. Something crunched under my soles. I frowned, studying a white, grainy substance lined across the floor. Salt.
“Go ahead.” Nice Guy gestured me forward. “She’s really friendly.”
“Right…” I murmured, giving the row of salt one last look over.
