Wendy was bored
At 16, that seemed to be the story of her life. It was a dreary
overcast
afternoon and once again she found herself sprawled out on the couch. She was
supposed to be in school but cutting classes seemed to be the routine now.
School held no interest.
Her mother was passed out in bed once again, a late-night lounge singer
who spent her tips on cheap booze, then staggered home somewhere around 5
a.m. Her father? Who knows. She hadn't seen him in years and no longer cared.
Her soul ached for excitement but she knew not what. So she sat on the
couch and flipped the remote aimlessly. She stopped at one soap opera after
another. She knew not the plots, she just looked longingly at the rich women
dressed up in the latest fashions with expensive jewelry dangling from their
ears and neck and hands.
It depressed her even more, a constant reminder of her lousy lot in
life.
Any spending money she ever had came from stealing whatever money her mother
didn't drink up the night before. Lately there hadn't been but a few bucks.
The remote clicked and clicked. Nothing but soaps and talk shows
until...
She saw it
An old Batman episode. And there she was. Catwoman. The remote went
silent. Wendy felt her soul stir and she watched intently.
Catwoman, dressed in slinkly black leather and those sinister dark eyes
glowing from inside the mask, seemed to reach out to her. Wendy watched as
the felonious feline sauntered into a museum and wrapped her greedy hands
around a gold statue and smiled as she took it for her own.
Suddenly Wendy understood. Fantasy? Maybe. But why not? What was
there
to lose. Her present condition. Fuck that. She remembered the women in the
soaps. She watched the entire Batman episode and knew that it was time to
live life on her terms.
She went to her room and put on a brown leather bomber jacket, black
jeans and a white tank-top.It would do for now, she thought, but not for
long. She walked out of the house.
Her first stop was a convenience store. Some old Korean man asked her
what she wanted.
""Pack of Salem 100s,'' she said.
She didn't smoke...until now. But things were changing quickly.
Morality,
decency, respect for others were no longer issues. Something sinister and
evil swelled inside her.
The old man turned his back to comply with the request. Wendy saw
a rack
of lighters on the cunter. She reached quickly, grabbed one and put it in her
pocket before the man turned.
That's just the start, she thought.
The man handed over the cigarettes and Wendy gave him the $3.50.
That's the last thing I'll ever pay for, she thought.
She walked outside, ripped off the cellophane and pulled out a
cigarette.
She flicked the lighter and lifted the flame. She felt the smoke surge inside
her and she controlled any desire to cough.
Control, she thought, that is the name of the game. She let loose a
steady stream of smoke and fell a warm rush pulsate through her. She took
another drag and smiled.
A natural.
The feeling was the one she wanted, that had come from the television.
A couple men strolled by and their heads snapped. She was worth a
second
look, dark blond hair and black smoldering eyes and a figure that started to
take the same luscious shape that got her mother so many singing jobs.
Wendy took another drag and glared at her admirers. They hurried on
quickly.
Wendy had the feeling of having been in a roller-coaster line for hours
upon hours. Now she was in the car and it was slowly climbing to the top of
that first and highest hill. Once that car reached the top, it would start
racing down at a high rate of speed, recklessly but always in control.
Wendy knew that was about to happen to her. Only she vowed to make that
ride last as long as possible.
******
Wilson's Leather Express was on a quiet but fashionable street of the
city. It was still mid-afternoon. The store was empty except for a lady
behind the counter. She was mid-20's and dressed smartly. She sneered when
Wendy walked in, wondering what this shoddy young bitch was doing in her
upscale store.
Fuck you, thought Wendy, a pair of dark sunglases covering her eyes.
She silently cruised through the store, mentally picking out what she
needed. She saw the perfect black leather jacket that was her size, a pair of
black leather pants and, most importantly, the gloves. She knew exactly where
everything was....
She lit up a cigarette and let the smoke drift out easily.
""Excuse me,'' the clerk snapped. ""There is no
smoking in the store.''
Her haughty attitude made Wendy only more determined.
""Is that so,'' Wendy said, taking another deep drag.
""Either put it out or I'm going to ask you to leave,'' the
clerk said.
Wendy walked to the counter.
""Want a cigarette?''' she asked.
""No, didn't you hear me.''
Wendy reached into her purse, only she didn't grab the cigarettes. She
grabbed something else, a gift from her mother from last year.
""C'mon, have a cigarette.'
She then pulled out a can of mace and sprayed it directly into the
clerk's face.
""YOU BITCH!!!'' the clerk screammed in agony, her face
searing in pain
as she fell to the floor.
Wendy worked quickly. She grabbed a bag from behind the counter. She
snatched the black leather gloves and put them on. She snatched the black
leather jacket and the pants, several pairs that should fit her exactly. She
stuffed them all in the bag.
The clerk was still writhing on the floor, her hands tearing at her
face.
Wendy took one last drag on the cigarette and headed out the door. She
flipped the CLOSED sign around as she left.
The street was empty except for a few people well down the block. They
took no notice.
Wendy lit a cigarette, then left it dangling as she fingered her
precious
booty inside the bag. The leather gloves felt awesome.
The roller-coaster car had reached the top of the hill. It was
careening
downward. There was no stopping it now.
TO BE CONTINUED