Doribelle was wispy thin, her face made over with patches of blush which endowed with her a “preserved” look—even though she was in her twenties. She wore a leather necklace threaded with animal teeth. Tethered to its bottom was a pendant made from a rough-hewn circle of crystals that looked like it had been sliced from a geode. Her gauzy white blouse revealed black bra cups beneath.
I sliced into my pancakes. She chewed gum while drinking coffee—a talent I had never mastered.
“I don’t feel I should pay for this,” she said.
“The coffee? It’s on me,” I said.
“I shouldn’t be required to pay a fee for your detecting services. I’m virtually family. When I spoke with Tara, she said, ‘Why not ask Phillip?’”
I had been dating Tara for four weeks and Doribelle was her baby sister. I personally maintain a more drawn-out timeline before acquiring virtual relatives.
“I’m down on funds,” she said. “It’s not my fault. Those bastards booted me out of yoga school. They said I was too brittle to fold.”
She seemed fragile: her bones, knobby; her voice, frail and raspy. Her eyes darted everywhere, avoiding contact with mine.
“And still they demand I pay back the loans they loaned me. They’re like loan sharks.”
“Is that why you need me? To deal with them?”
“Heavens, no! They’re my friends.”
Brilliant characters, Martin.
Prince is back! His adventures are always amusing!