Northern_Lights_2014

Skin Deep By Becky Malsam As her vision cleared, she found herself staring at a nearly perfect imprint of her face on the deflated air bag. God, I must look like hell if all my makeup is on the bag, she thought groggily. This day couldn’t possibly get much worse. What should have been a glorious day of shopping and re- laxing at the spa, became a progressive source of embarrassment. Her credit cards had been declined and she was positive she heard whispers and giggles behind manicured hands. Apparently Andrew didn’t think it necessary to warn her of the lower daily limits on her credit cards before she went out for the day. Thankfully he agreed to let her keep the appointment with her cosmetic sur- geon since she made it before the allowance cut. Helen could make do with last month’s styles, but the chin and cheekbone implants were a necessity. She reached up to gingerly touch the bridge of her nose, inspecting for any lasting damage. It’s not bro- ken, it just hurts like crazy. Thank God! My husband would be pissed if I needed another surgery this month. Helen brushed a mass of golden locks from her mascara-streaked eyes and tried to remember what just happened. She closed her eyes for a moment to clear her head. Oh, that’s right. Some jerk with faulty brake lights slammed to a stop in front of me . Once she was sure she could move, she unbuckled the seatbelt and shoved the sprung door open. She was shocked back to reality as her Gucci pump became submerged in a stagnant puddle of street slime. “Son of a . . .” Helen’s tirade was cut off as a gigantic hand entered her field of vision. Dear Lord, is that a flannel cuff poking its way out of a suede sleeve? Her eyes traveled up the arm, slowly taking in scuffed leather, until they finally reached what she hoped was a human face. Fabulous. I’ve just been a wreck with Gentle Ben. He probably doesn’t even have insurance. Helen composed herself enough to mold her face into a tight smile and ignored the proffered hand. It looked like it hadn’t been washed in a while. A surprisingly white smile appeared from the depths of his red beard as he peered at Helen. Her anger brought a rosy flush to her cheeks and made her rather striking despite her disheveled hair and rumpled blouse. The man was momentarily struck by her beauty. “Howdy ma’am,” the man said still holding his hand out. “Lemme give you a hand there. Looks like you done got yer feet wet.” When he realized she was not about to accept his offer, he hid his hand in his pock- et and backed away from the car. “I’m mighty sorry about this. Dang wirin’s been givin’ me trouble on Ol’ Faithful here, but looks like they’re workin’ just fine. Guess you just weren’t looking where you were goin’.” Helen stared at him dumbly for a moment as she debated the benefits of getting out of the car and de- cided it wasn’t worth it after all. She could see all she needed to from the driver’s seat. The Benz was ruined. The front end appeared to be slightly wedged under the rusty truck. She inwardly groaned as she thought about her husband’s reaction. Something else for Andrew to com- 14