Glitter Girl

If you’re coming in, shut the door behind you. Lock in what’s left of the cool. Hundred and ten in the shade and not even noon yet. It’s a wonder this old Airstream don’t melt clean away.

Hot damn, ain’t you a glory?

Just look at you, standing there in the doorway with the sun falling all around you. Legs all the way to heaven and your hair like midnight water; you got diamonds in your ears and steel in your heart. Now don’t turn away from me like that. We both know why you’re here.

I've been watching you. I saw you up at the tourist shop, peering out the window of the ladies room, catching sight of this old trailer out here in the cactus. Saw you picking through the dry brush, shying past that crazy red eyed dog and all the burnt out cars. I heard the rocks, cracking like glass under your sandals.

And sure enough, here you are, coming deep into my shadows, chasing off the buzz in my head.

Take off your sunglasses. I want to see your eyes.

What would your daddy say now? Here’s his pretty baby, sneaking out back to talk to some wild eyed hermit with a bad leg from the war. Here’s his little girl all grown up, wanting to get down and dirty with the witching.

Well, let me tell you what’s true. Up there in the shop, they don’t talk about me, don’t talk about what’s back here in the sand. Long as I pay my rent and stay quiet, I can lay low, like a rattlesnake hiding from the sun.

Magic’s not all flash and fancy. It takes a witch to find a witch. And see: you found me.

Don’t give me that who, me? look. When you peeped out that window, the magic snagged you, didn’t it? Called you to come on, come on . . . But this desert eats glitter girls like you. Eats ‘em right up. You stay out here long enough, you get to be like me, nothing but leather and smoke, and bad witchery in the night.

You should have stayed up there browsing tinpot silver and cactus jelly and gift boxes full of dates while your daddy buys the gas. Guess it’s a good day for a desert drive in a fancy car like that.

Anyway, let's get to it. What do you want? You don’t even have to tell me.

I can see it in your face. I can see him in your eyes, too, the one you're wanting: pretty boy back home with a movie-star face and a sweet fast car. He’s got muscles like a god and a head empty as a bucket, and he’s worth less than the dirt beneath your heel.

But here you are telling me you want to own him. It’s love, you say. Love? Like hell. A thousand years ago I was as young as you. As hungry in the heart. And I know what you know too, deep down. It's not love that makes the blood sing and the heart fly high.

It’s power.

Long as we’re clear on what’s true, I’ll give you a spell or two. Twist him wrong side out, squeeze him like a rubber ball. Sink him in those daysky eyes of yours, though he don’t even know your name. He’ll come to you on his knees begging. And when he does, you’ll laugh and walk away. Because that’s what witching means.

Your daddy’s nearly finished filling up that shiny car. He’ll be heading inside to settle up, maybe buy a jelly sampler or a paperweight with a scorpion inside. But he’ll be missing his glitter girl, and if he comes back here to find you, he won’t like what he sees.

So let’s get down to business. Just a little blood will do it, and a scrap or two of soul. I’m not so thirsty lately, and it won’t take much to steal that surf boy’s heart. You’ll be back in the sun again before your old man’s paid the bill.

Behind the Scenes: Driving across the desert between Palm Springs and Phoenix, you pass little islands in the emptiness like this one, where you can get gas and a bite to eat, and buy a souvenir or two. The narrator in this story also stars in a few other stories set in my fictional southwestern city called Soledad.