Charlie's Angel

60

Chris

I was way past flustered. There was so much shit to do and it felt like there wasn't enough time to do it all. I don't think my brain was working fast enough for what I needed to get done.

"Babe," she rasped with a low groan when I flipped on the light. She reached her hand over to pull herself closer to me but she sat up when she felt nothing but the warmth from my spot in bed. "What time is it?"

I shrugged as I trudged over to the bathroom to brush my teeth. As I did so, I raked my fingers through my pale-white sea of curls that were all over the place on top of my head on account of my serious case of bed head. "Uh, it's like eight or somethin'."

I heard her groan again and pull a pillow over her head.

I rinsed my mouth out and splashed some cold water in my face to wake myself up further, quickly padding my way over to the closet to get dressed for the day I had planned.

Remind my ass to never schedule an art show and a photo shoot on the same day.

My ass was tired.

I found a pair of camouflage jeans and a black crew neck with a black skull on it. With a red snapback and some J's, I went back into the bathroom to see if I could fix my hair. Dyeing my shit always fucked my hairline.

"You look nice," she cooed from the doorway, her face thick with sleep.

I shrugged. "My hair is fucked up."

I focused in on my hair so much so that I began to go into a trance at trying to perfect my overflow of curly strands. I didn't want to think about anything else, so I distracted myself with this impossible task–if only to calm down my nerves that were turning my gut inside and out.

I struggled to feel her embrace, her arms slipping under the front of my shirt to plant her palms on my chest. She buried her face into my back as if I was in a mental institution and she was my straight jacket, constricting my body before I caused mental harm to myself.

"You need to take a breath," she sighed. Her right hand shifted over to rest on my heart and that's when I began to feel it beating rapidly in my chest, trying to keep up with my body that was already ten steps ahead of everything else. "Take a breath, Christopher."

Slipping her hand out, she pried the brush away from my hand and set it aside. I planted my hands on the bathroom counter and inhaled a breath, letting it sit for a few seconds, then letting it out slowly like she instructed.

Parts of my anxiety began to chip away from my brain and I took another breath.

"Did you already ask for favor?"

I nodded slowly. "I haven't stopped. I prayed for protection, favor, for everything to–"

"Shhh," she whispered. She turned me around and cupped my cheeks softly. "Then you're fine. Don't share your prayer with me, baby. That's between you and Him."

I nodded slowly again and pressed my forehead to hers, closing my eyes to bask in her touch. Charlie had the type of touch to linger even hours after she was gone.

"You remember the plan?"

She smiled. "Yes. I will leave the house at promptly three o'clock and get to the museum at four. I'm going to meet with some of your friends to set up your display. You will get there at five-thirty and I will have your change of clothes for you waiting in the office. The kids and Sam will arrive at six and the show begins at six-thirty."

"That's why you're my girl," I chuckled.

"I'm a boss ass bitch, bitch, bitch," she rapped with a laugh, tossing her arms around my neck to kiss me. She nipped at my bottom lip roughly and I palmed her ass and brought her closer to my waist. "I love you."