Breath Of Life

“You still with me?” Ollie waves his hand in front of my face.

I blink. “Yeah. If you don’t mind.”

“Where are you parked?”

“Just around the corner on Kings Road.”

“Good, I’m on the same street.”

Really, universe? We lapse into silence as we walk side by side. The sound of the wheels of my case over the sidewalk interrupts the quiet.

“So you’re a makeup artist like Efia?”

“I am, but my focus is special effects makeup.”

“Like monster movies?”

“Yes, whenever I can get a gig for it. Glamor makeup pays the bills, but my passion is blood, guts, and gore.”

He laughs. “For real?”

I nod my head. “I love it. I blame my dad. He raised me on the classics.”

“Classics?” Ollie asked.

“You know ... The Wolfman, Dracula, all the Vincent Price gems, and Hitchcock movies he grew up with. Then the eighties hit with their advances, and I knew it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. I used to do my friends’ and family’s getups for Halloween. It was the only time my big brother wanted to be bothered with me.”

He laughs. “You have siblings?”

“An older brother and sister. I think I was a surprise, though my parents would never admit it.”

“I have a baby cousin. It’s a tough job being an older brother type.”

I roll my eyes. “Please. I was the one covering for them and doing their math homework. I think I got the raw end of the deal.”

“Well, my cousin, Ronnie, was always hell on wheels. Still is, but now I’m not responsible for her. There are drawbacks to living next door to your family.”

I laugh out loud.

“I’m serious.”

We round the corner, and I spot my black SUV. “That’s me up ahead.” I parked beneath a street light. The rectangle sputters and dies, plunging the street into shadows as the sun gives up its control and night emerges. I’m suddenly glad he insisted on walking me back to my car. The scuff off shoes on concrete make the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“Did you hear that?” I whisper. I glance at Ollie who steps in front of me.

“Yeah, I did.” He turns to face the alley a few feet away from where we stand. Three men emerge from the alleyway dressed from head-to-toe in all black with hoods that partially obscure their faces. With my height, I’m peering up and have a ringside view. I pray to God they don’t realize that. I grip the handle of my case. The street is deserted, and my car offers no shelter, despite its proximity. They’d catch us before we could clamber inside and drive off.

I grip the pepper spray on my keychain. Doesn’t fucking help when there’s a group.

“Hey, man. We don’t want any trouble,” Ollie says.

“Give us your wallets, and we won’t have any,” the large, bulky figure in the middle growls.

“All right, man, just take it easy,” Ollie says, holding up his hands. He reaches into his back pocket and slowly pulls out a wallet.

“And hers, too.”

I fumble with the messenger bag looped across my body and dig out my black wallet. Ollie takes it from me and hands it to the thief with his fingertips.