Angel's Hero

Chapter 1

"Ah, bloody, buggering hell!"
Slamming her open hand flat against the tiled wall, other expletives flew from her mouth before Angel bit down on her bottom lip. Hard.

She dropped her head back, hitting the wall behind her. Inhaling sharply through her nose, she huffed the air out through her mouth, fighting the urge to scream.
"Ok," she brought her head forward, straightening her spine and wedged her butt firmly onto her precarious seat, more than a little uncomfortable on the corner of the bathtub. She set her jaw.
"Only a few more to go."
She looked down at her leg with her foot on the opposite rim, knee bent away from her allowing easier access to the inside of her ankle and calf.
The bathtub was built into the end of the long room, only one side not obstructed by wall or window. The open side linked to the cupboard with the basin on top, and Angel made great use of the window ledge and counter space to hold her bathroom paraphernalia. The only obstruction above the bath was the showerhead over it, and the hook with a loofa dangling from it.
The curtain, a white plastic sheet with large sunflowers printed on it, was shoved to the other side, so she could easily make use of the surface around the basin.
Why did I think this was a good idea?
Michelle's been doing it for years.
But I haven't.
She said it was painless.
She lied.
Michelle's my best friend. She wouldn't.
She's an evil cow. She deserves to rot in the deepest recesses of hell for convincing me to do this.
With revenge on her mind, Angel picked up her cellphone and pulled up Michelle's number. Hitting the loudspeaker option and placing the device back on the counter beside the basin, she returned to her task at hand.
Michelle answered after three rings.
"Hellooooooo!"
"I hate you," Angel screeched. "I could actually wring your neck!"
"Oh, god, why?" Michelle snickered.
"I'm waxing my legs like you said," Angel shifted on her seat. Her left butt cheek was starting to go numb.
"You are not!" Michelle hooted out a laugh.
"Yes, I had some spare time. This sucks!"
"Where are you getting it done? Did you go to the salon I recommended?"
Silence.
Angel was focusing on her leg again, applying the wax as instructed, the little wooden stick coated in the honey-colored substance, and wincing as the heated wax pulled at the hair on her leg as she smeared another patch.
Man, that was hot!
A blob dripped off onto marble surface of her basin from the rim of the tub.
It was a wide enough counter space to hold her toothbrush and toothpaste, as well as her hair products. Naturally, as a hoarder of all samples she'd ever been given, Angel's collection was impressive. And messy.
She'd piled high her many tubes and bottles onto the surface, some she hadn't even used yet. It was a cluttered area, and she knew it.
She'd been meaning to do a bit of clearing and sorting since moving in, but had yet to get to it.
"Angel? Oh my god, you're not doing this yourself are you?" Michelle said incredulously.
"Mmm, ah, yeah, I am."
"Are you insane? Why?" The sound of a door slamming came over the speaker. Michelle was most likely jumping into her car, on her way out to a location. As a photographer her work often took her to the woods at the edge of town, where families loved the magical and mystical element for their pictures, or to various parts of the harbor that spanned the coast of their small town.
"I had some time to kill, and it seemed like a good idea," Angel pressed the cloth strip to the wax on her leg. "Besides, it's not like I have anyone I need to keep hairless for, so my legs were starting to look like Bigfoot's baby sister. You said it wouldn't hurt! You lied!"
"Well, would you have even considered it if I told you it bites like a bitch the first time? And yeah, I was hoping you would have let me come along so I could have enjoyed the show," She laughed loudly. "Hang a sec while I switch you over to the car thingy."
The speaker rustled and clicked a few times before Michelle's voice came back, sounding farther away. "Kay, I'm back."
Angel hoped a few of the ugly names she'd called her friend hadn't been heard while she'd switched over.
"Well, I still blame you. I'm only on the first leg, and I'm not even getting all the buggers," Angel had one hand pressed against the cloth strip, postponing the inevitable. Angel wanted to delay the pain as much as possible. "But the lady in one of those 'Do-it-yourself' videos said to use tweezers. Ow!" She inspected the root of the hair she'd just pulled with the little contraption. "Oh, god that's gross."
Michelle's laughter over the line cracked a smile on Angel's face.
"I really don't think I can finish this! Stop laughing!" Angel laughed despite herself. "It's not that funny. I can't have one waxed leg!"
"Why don't you just shave the rest then?"
"Because I don't have a razor! I bought the wax on the way home instead of a new razor, because YOU SAID IT WOULDN'T HURT!" the last was shouted as Angel ripped the strip off. "Yeeeaaaaaaa! You son of a fur-coated bastard bitch, fuuuuuuuuuu-"
"Language, young lady!" Michelle howled with laughter after using an admonishment a particular nun had favored during their boarding house days.
"Christ, how do you do it every month?" Angel curled her lip as she shook her hand. The strip had turned around and stuck to her fingers. "Yuck."
She was not enjoying this.
"Alright, alright, just stop. I'm calling Liza-Jean at the salon right now and telling her it's an emergency," Michelle was wheezing. Angel could picture the tears of mirth running down her friend's cheeks. She was familiar with the keening sound her friend was making as one of someone lost to their laugh; completely overtaken by the hilarity and letting it roll through them.
It was a great feeling getting swept away in that emotion.
This was the core of their friendship.
Laughter.
Usually at each other's expense, though, but with the best of intentions. Friends for almost twenty years now, they'd met in school when Michelle had been sent to boarding school in England, while her parents had been off in the army.
While most of the other girls had been fascinated by the American girl and her cool accent, Angel had been more interested in the similar sense of longing the other girl exuded.
A kindred spirit, as it turned out. Another young girl just wanting to be with her parents, but understanding that their jobs took them away. Sure, other girls at the school were in similar positions, but there had just been something about Michelle that had drawn Angel in.
"Angel?" Michelle's voice snapped her back to the present.
"Yup, yeah," registering what her friend had said, Angel scowled at the mess she'd made. The basin, filled with water, held the used wax strips to dissolve the wax and clean the strips for their next use.
Yeah, right. Like she'd ever do this to herself again.
"Do you want me to make you that appointment?"
"Yes please," this was said through clenched teeth as Angel stood up and climbed out the bathtub.
"Right, I'll call now, and text you the details. Gotta go. I'm meeting up with Marie and Peter for their engagement shoot. Chat later!"
Ending the call, Angel stood on her fluffy rug, looking at all the bits-and-bobs that had come from the at-home waxing kit she'd bought that morning.
The drips of wax had hardened somewhat on the pale marble surface, and she could feel some between her toes, and cringed as she looked down slowly, hoping the cream colored faux-fur rug wasn't destroyed.
She knew the wax was water-soluble, so hopefully that meant it would wash out. How was this better than shaving?
"That's it! Never again!"
Going to grab the waste basket from the corner of the room, Angel was careful not to get the wet wax under her foot tracked anywhere else, and walked on her heel to the basket's spot next to the door, and back to the basin.
There was absolutely no way she would ever do this herself again.
She scooped the still warm tub with the wooden applicator sticking out of it into the rubbish bin. It hit the bottom of the near-to-empty container with a satisfying thud.
Angel ran her fingers through the water in the basin, and grabbed all the used strips, and dropped them into the bin, too.
Feeling confident in her clean up mission, she grabbed a few expired bottles from around the tap, and chucked them with the rest.
She placed the bin on the floor a few steps away, and after briefly looking at the best-before dates on the back, made a game out of the situation and tossed them across the room.
"Score!" She pumped her fists as she made three in a row.
Getting carried away, she almost threw out her shampoo, too, before coming to her senses.
Taking in the near empty surface, Angel nodded, happy with her effort.
The skin on her leg was beginning to tingle, reminding her of her predicament.
Looking down at the awful splotchy mess, she decided she'd better shower and rinse off the left over wax.
It was late afternoon, and she'd whipped off her black leggings once she'd arrived home from after work, just keeping her pale blue sweatshirt and underwear on.
She's been so excited to get her legs waxed smooth, just like the model on the box, and not have to worry about unsightly hair in the current heat wave.
"Shorts here we come!" She'd proclaimed to herself.
Ah, if only she'd known then what she knew now, she wouldn't have to face going out again that day, and could have been in her comfy clothes already, feet propped up, glass of wine in hand.
The hot water definitely didn't help her sensitive skin, and so she hurried through the motions, finishing before the burning sensation really set in.
"Wow, this sucks," she hissed.
She stepped from the tub, glancing across the room.
The full-length mirror behind the closed bathroom door showed her that her leg looked sunburned. Her other leg in comparison looked dirty, the dark hair on it making Angel cringe.
"God, you really are hopeless, aren't you?" she shook her head at her reflection.
Oops. Best not to go down that road.
Angel turned her head from the mirror, forcing her eyes away from what she knew she would see.
Sure, she had hang-ups about her body, like every other woman in the world. But that wasn't why she turned from her reflection.
The tanned skin, dark chestnut hair, and large amber eyes were normal features and unassuming on others. A few women in town even had similar coloring to her, and the sight of them didn't trigger a pang of sadness such as when she gazed upon herself.
She had her mothers dusky skin tone, hair color, and eyes. The rest Angel had inherited from her father. She took after him in height and shape; at least she assumed she did, standing at five nine with a size fourteen jean size, compared to her petite and dainty mother, who topped out at five three and size six.
Yet, whenever she looked in the mirror and saw her mother's eyes staring out at her, the rest of her features blurred and reformed in her mind until all she could see was her mother's face staring back at her.
The tightness in her chest alerted her to a potential panic attack.
"Stop it. Just," deep breath in. And out. "Stop."
Her phone beeped an incoming message, and it snapped her out of her morose thoughts.

Got you a slot at 7pm. LJ staying open for you. Take her something sweet to say thanks. Drinks later? X

If I survive this I'll need to celebrate. I want bubbles. Bring a bottle and I'll do the food.
Perfect. I'll bring two. It's Friday. Will get mom to watch J. See you at about 8.

Smiling and looking forward to the evening after what was sure to be a painful experience, Angel dressed quickly in her usual outfit of leggings and loose sweatshirt. She had roughly thirty minutes to make the short drive to the harbor, stop by the bakery and grab some delicious goodies for them and get to her appointment.

Best hurry then.
Angel grimaced, not looking forward to more pain.