Free Angel Fire by Valmore Daniels

final selection against my shoulders. “That’s the one. Now we just need to accessorize.” She waved at my robe. “Get out of that rag.”
    * * *
    Outside, dressed to the nines, I started to feel like a person again. Was this what normal felt like? John stuck his head out the window of the minivan and whistled a catcall.
    Beth barked out, “John, quit being such an ass,” but she was smiling when she said it. I blushed despite myself, pleased at the compliment.
    John glanced at something behind us, and Beth and I turned as one.
    “Meow,” Beth commented. And when John opened his mouth to protest, she said, “Love you, babes!” But her attention, and mine, was on Neil.
    In an obvious attempt to blend in with the local population, he wore a western shirt, tight blue jeans and a belt buckle. If he had worn a cowboy hat and boots, I probably would have laughed, but I found myself holding my breath as he sauntered our way. His playful smile faltered when he saw us staring.
    “What? Too much?” asked Neil.
    Beth raised her eyebrows. “Not at all! You must be Neil.” She held her hand out and they shook. “I’m Beth.”
    “Please to meet you.” Neil took a step to the side and shook John’s hand.
    “That’s my husband, John. He’s an accountant.”
    “Heya,” John said by way of greeting. “You new in town, or passing through?”
    Beth exclaimed, “John, don’t you have any couth?”
    John made an innocent face. “What?”
    Neil laughed. “Just moved here,” he said to John. “I’ll be working for the fire department.”
    “Excellent!” said John “I do the accounting for them. I’m at the fire hall at least once a week. Great group of guys there.”
    Beth gave me a knowing glance. “Well, if you two boys can tear yourselves away from each other, we should get going.”
    Everyone piled into the minivan.
     

Chapter Twelve
    I thought I was ready for it. I had three staunch supporters to back me up, but the moment I stepped into the bar, the overly loud music from the live band stopped me short.
    The crowd pressed in on me, and a dozen heads turned in my direction, their looks hostile and accusing. A few people yelled at me. I suddenly wanted to be anywhere besides The Trough, but Beth grabbed my shoulders and firmly guided me all the way inside the bar.
    “It’s all right,” she said. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. I had to remind myself that I was in control, and nothing could affect me. My reintegration counselor had told me there might be times like these. I just had to take a mental step back and assess the situation objectively. Letting out my breath, I forced myself to relax and smile.
    Once I was back in control, I looked around again. Now those people looking at me wore smiles rather than grimaces, I saw. The yells were shouts of greetings. The counselor had been right: it was just my insecurity and imagination getting the better of me.
    “Come on,” said Beth. “Let’s go say hello.”
    She grabbed me by the wrist and led me toward a group of our former high school classmates.
    I shook hands with Arlene Kent, who had sat in front of me in algebra and occasionally let me peek at her homework. She introduced me to her husband, Willem Nelson. Back then, he had been on the football team; now he was balding and sported a hefty waistline. He told me he’d bought the used car dealership in town, and handed me his card. I thought he was a jerk back then, and my opinion of him hadn’t improved over time.
    Francine Messerly was one of those girls who flounced when they walked. In junior high, she had always volunteered for the spirit club and decoration committee. I found out she was twice divorced.
    “I’m at a point in my life where I’m very happy to be single,” she told me. Her eyes, however, continually scanned the crowd; I assumed looking for new marriage prospects.
    After a few more meets and greets, I began to loosen up. Now John and Neil were the ones looking out