Angel Earns Her Wigs

The early morning sun beamed directly on the single dime, causing it to shine brightly from it’s watery resting place in the pot-holed alleyway. Angel bent over and quickly plucked it up, dropping it in with the growing collection in her pocket. It had been a wet, cold night in the abandoned, burned out building she called home, and she was eager for a hot cup of coffee. As she walked toward the ZipNGo convenience store where the coffee was always on, she calculated how much more she’d need to buy the 16-ouncer. She wasn’t terribly concerned, though, because if she remembered correctly, Hal would be working the counter this morning. More often than not, he waved her on when she began pulling coins out of her pocket. She appreciated his generosity, and often stood around awhile to keep him company and shoot the breeze.

Angel had been calling this area of Seattle home for many years. It consisted mainly of old, abandoned warehouses, which were long-forgotten, except by Angel and others of her caliber. Also scattered about these streets were a number of dilapidated motels, with names like Sweet Rest and Sleepy Dreams, where Angel had spent her fair share of time, but hadn’t partaken in the type of activities the names suggested. Many homeless folk landed in this area of Seattle, as it was close to the food bank, the Trinity Mission that provided free meals and a bed, as well as a free clinic for health issues that might surface. Angel avoided all these places unless she fell on totally hard times, then she would drum up her courage and go stand in line for freebies. She prided herself on being independent, unencumbered, and, most of all, safe.

Nineteen years earlier, Angel found herself right here in this neighborhood. She’d been through a rough and tumultuous childhood, and once she’d aged out of the system, she never looked back. Her street friends were her family. She knew that she could count on them whenever and however she needed, as they could her. They were a tangle of misfits, mainly fringe characters who either were shoved out, or willingly took themselves out of the mainstream American dream. She shared their views. She’d found safety and belonging in the company of her street family.

Angel headed back to her hollowed-out home, sipping on her complimentary 16-ouncer as she strode through the alley. She’d collected boards, shelves, old cupboards, and the like, to construct a make-shift room in one area of the warehouse where she had taken up residence. She added other interior fixtures and trinkets as they were found or given, and wound up with quite a cozy, little nook, which also felt safe and secure. Noise from the interstate, which was situated a few blocks to the west, could be annoying to some, but Angel found the constant hum of the freeway comforting.

As Angel continued down the alley, she recalled the surprise encounter she’d had a couple days prior. with an attorney who clearly didn’t belong in her neighborhood. He drove up, got out, gave her his business card, and said he’d been trying to locate someone who fit her description. After learning that she was, indeed, the person he’d been looking for, he explained that a man by the name of Donovan Reed had instructed him to leave her in his will. He asked to meet her again the following day, to process the legalities of the transaction.

Angel was stunned. The name didn’t ring a bell, but she obviously had a strong urge to know who this person was. She hurried home, grabbed the lockbox she’d found years earlier that held her few important documents, and, clutching the key, opened the lid. She snatched up the small, black notebook that held intriguing notes she’d jotted down over the years about some of her more interesting clients. She began scanning the full pages. There were no last names; she was on a first-name only basis with her clients. After several minutes, her eyes fell on some writing that was on the edge of a page. “Donovan,” she stated quietly. She didn’t have much written, just the words, “tech consultant,” and, “wigs”. Those words alone were enough. She felt a sense of relief and satisfaction, having solved the mystery of his identity. Looking back, she recalled with intrigue her trysts with Donovan. Each time they met, he presented a few choice wigs he wanted her to wear . He never brought the same one twice. She didn’t ask questions, she just did as she was asked. The wigs were clean and in satisfactory condition, so it didn’t bother her to wear them. Donovan always carefully placed the wigs back in the same bag he’d brought them in, carrying them off into the night.

As agreed, Angel and the attorney, Dave, met the next morning, same time, same place. He got right down to business once they got to his office, like he was eager to wrap things up. She signed numerous documents. The attorney, in demonstrating great foresight by realizing she probably didn’t have a bank account, handed her over a large amount of bills, groups of bills. Many of them. Each bound together by a paper band. “$20,000,” he declared.

Angel was stunned. She stuck the groups of bills into her knee-high socks until getting them home and into the lockbox.

She mulled over her options for the next few days. The money wasn’t enough to be life-changing, but certainly could be life enhancing-at least in the short term. In the end, she knew what she wanted to do.

To put her plan into action, she needed to round up her friend Shane. She’d known him for years, and they had become very close. Shane was Hispanic, with a rotund torso and skinny legs, similar to a 4-year old’s drawing of a person with a ball body and stick legs. His big dimples appeared whenever he smiled, and he could always be found wearing a Champion brand tank top. Shane had been a top stylist at a high end salon in Seattle. He had a sizeable clientele list, and could fashion hair in any style imaginable. That was before he got caught up in the booze and drugs. His fall from grace was swift and brutal, and he now lived in a small tent down by the river. Angel had been with him through some terrible withdrawals he’d experienced, once seizing so badly she thought he’d die. Since he’d met his girlfriend, Gina, Angel had not seen as much of him. She needed him now, though, and decided to pay him a visit.

On reaching the gravel road above the river, Angel stepped carefully down the steep embankment to a spot where the ground leveled out somewhat. She encountered a guy who was sitting up in his ragged sleeping bag, smoking a cigarette. She asked if he knew Shane. He gestured down river without uttering a word. She thanked him and gingerly stepped past. Walking slowly eastward, she came to a camp. On a chance, she called out for Shane. She heard some rustling coming from inside the tent, and, in short order, the zipper was pulled open and Shane’s head popped out. They were thrilled to see each other. She got straight down to explaining the reason she was there. Once Shane committed to helping, they arranged to meet the next day to taxi to a location on the outskirts of the city where many wholesale businesses were located.

Angel woke in the morning, grabbed the cash out of the lockbox, tucked some in each sock, and headed out to hail a taxi. They pulled over long enough to scoop Shane up off the sidewalk near his riverfront home. Their first stop was the swanky Water’s Edge Resort, just a short distance away. It was well-known as THE place to get the finest seafood to be found, but it came with a price. Angel had had very few opportunities to experience the taste of the ocean’s bounty, but enough to know she found it delectable! They were both awestruck by the beautiful, spacious interior and stunning views of the Olympic mountain range from the dining room windows. They took care of business there, then ventured out toward the city’s edge. Shane knew right where to go. The taxi let them off, and Angel followed him into the warehouse. Once inside, they saw entire walls filled with styrofoam heads, a wig adorning every one. The two of them didn’t need much time, they picked out wigs of every style and color, from the mundane to the outrageous. Shane’s favorite was a rainbow-colored wig with long, waist-length straight hair and bangs across the front. It suited his flamboyant, non-binary identification quite well.

It was a long day of preparations, and as the taxi dropped Shane off, they hugged, and agreed to both spread the word about the upcoming party. Angel drifted effortlessly to sleep that night, broke but happy.

Over the next couple of weeks, Angel invited every friend she encountered to the big event. She kept in touch with Shane, and by the time the big day rolled around, they were both eagerly anticipating the hours ahead. Angel got to the Water’s Edge early, as she wanted to make sure everything was perfect. Shane arrived shortly after, and promptly began trying on all the wigs, modeling them for her as they both joked and giggled. Soon others arrived, not exactly sure of what to expect, but excited to be there nevertheless. At five-thirty sharp, the caterers began delivering heaping platters and steam trays to the long buffet tables. As they began opening the lids, the guests drew close, with oohs and aahs and looks of disbelief in their eyes. Smiles lit up their faces as they watched eagerly, their mouths watering at the piles of Dungeness crab, prawns, lobster, and oysters. They quickly got in line, filled their plates with delight, and ate the delicacies until they were stuffed.

As the tables were being cleared, the band was setting up. The band was very diverse, and able to play a wide range of music. Angel’s guests gleefully requested their favorites. Once things got rolling, Angel took the mic. She explained to her guests that she had come into a bit of money, and thought about the best way to invest it. She shared that the wigs they saw displayed around the room were a way of honoring an important person, and that she would be delighted if they would choose one to wear for the evening, and take it with them as a remembrance of this extravagant, fun-filled evening. As the band played late into the night, Angel relished in the sights of her friends dancing, laughing, and sharing the special occasion. As the clock stretched into the early morning hours, guests started to make their way to the door. Angel made sure each one wore a wig as they exited the room. The food had been decimated, or she would have sent them off with that as well. They thanked her for inviting them, many saying it was the best night of their life. Angel assured them that it was a wise investment that would pay dividends during the inevitable downturns in her life. They understood what she meant.

Eventually, it was just Angel and Shane. They gave each other a big, bear hug, and she thanked him for his help in pulling off the night. He thanked her for including him, and they promised to keep in touch more frequently. As Shane rounded the corner out the door, the last thing Angel saw was a shock of rainbow-colored hair flying in the air. She carefully placed the last few wigs in a bag, then carried them out into the dark, soggy night. Angel had earned her wigs.