Afterlife Affair
Perched atop a fluffy cloud, Tessa flapped her wings wildly, her belly and thighs jiggling with the effort, but she was no closer to flying than the old sows on her daddy’s hog farm. She stomped her foot in frustration. What was the point of having wings if they were nothing more than decoration?
Her heart felt as heavy as it did the day she arrived in...well, she wasn’t sure where she was. It wasn’t Hell, but it certainly wasn’t Heaven, either. Surely, in Heaven she would have more than a measly pair of flip-flops.
She bent forward to eye her uncovered, pudgy toes, still painted the seafoam green she’d painted them her last day as a living, breathing person. If she’d known it was the last color her toes would ever see, she’d have chosen better – cherry red, passion pink – anything but seafoam.
“Purgatory,” a chipper voice said from behind her.
Tessa spun around to find the voice’s owner, but she was alone. “Excuse me?” Had she imagined it? Answered her own question, perhaps? In a grating, high-pitched, yet masculine voice? Not likely. For days on this stupid cloud, she’d seen no one and the only voice in her head was her own.
“Actually, it’s been closer to a year,” that damn voice said again.
She turned a full circle, certain the sound came from a different direction this time. “Up here.” She craned her neck to look upwards.
“Boo!”
She shrieked and nearly jumped out of her skin at the hot burst of air at her feet. Her first instinct was to kick the blond, curly haired head sticking up through the cloud, but the flash of seafoam reminded her just in time that kicking something hard while wearing flip-flops was probably unwise. No matter – before her foot even twitched, the head disappeared and popped up just behind her, now attached to a tall, but scrawny male body. He appeared to be close to her age, give or take a year. Maybe late twenties or thirtyish. White skinny jeans hugged his slim legs and his shirt boldly asked, Got Pride?
When she turned to face the man, he raised his hand to rest below his chin as he eyed her from head to toe. “Hmm, nope, those wings will never support you. Even if you flap until you’re blue in the face.”
Tessa felt the first emotions outside of sadness she’d had since she arrived. Anger. Humiliation. “Is that supposed to be a fat joke?”
The man tapped his long nose with an equally long finger. “No, it’s supposed to be an are-you-freakin’-kidding-me joke. They’re for show only, Princess. You wouldn’t even have them if you hadn’t had a hissy fit at check-in. Pete doesn’t have much patience for hysterical women, so the wings were to shut you up and move you along.”
Check in? She didn’t remember checking in anywhere. And who was Pete? “Pete? You mean St. Peter?”
Rolling his eyes, the man said, “Don’t ever call him that. He hates it. Pete’s a dedicated atheist, so he gets pretty pissy if you imply he’s a saint.”
“St. Peter’s an atheist?” Tessa cocked her head to the side. Somehow, that seemed unlikely.
“Oh my God, he’s not St. Peter, he’s just Pete! The guy who works the check-in.” The man shook his head and turned away, mumbling something under his breath. All Tessa could make out was thick and woman .
Tessa was becoming pretty frustrated, too. Who the hell was this guy? And why was he acting like such an ass?
“Back attcha, babe.”
And apparently, he was a mind reader. “Is there a reason you’re here? I was doing just fine by myself, thank you very much.” Figures, the first person she’d meet in the afterlife would be a jerk.
“Oh yeah? Sitting around on a cloud for a year is just fine? If you’d get your head out of the cloud , you’d know you could have moved on by now, but instead, I have to come drag your sorry ass back to rights.” He rolled his eyes again when she just stared at him. “I’m Saylor, and I’m your –” he made finger
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