Page 1 of Tenderfoot

ONE

“THE PROPHECY”

(TAYLOR SWIFT)

“All quiet on the Western front.”

“You were just dying to say that, weren’t you?”

“Well…duh.”

“Though, how do you know? You’re on the Eastern front.”

“Semantics.”

“Directions.”

“He’s late.”

“I’m not liking this.”

“Is this business usually this boring?”

In order, all the above was: Luna, Raye, Luna again, Jess, Luna, Jess again, Willow and Shanti.

My crew. My besties.

The Angels.

This convo sounded in my new ear thingy. One of the ones Arthur gave us.

It was fancy-dancy. It received and sent. In other words, it picked up my voice and the conversations I had. My girls could hear everything, and I didn’t have to speak into a wristwatch or something like that.

It was extra cool.

Then again, Arthur tended to spoil us, and as such, always got us the best stuff.

The ear thingies even matched our flesh tones so they’d be harder to see. Like really matched, as if they were made just for us. Mine was a peachy pink. Jess’s was an oliveish peach. Shanti’s was mocha. You get the picture.

Though, I wore my hair down, just in case.

I wasn’t taking any chances because, with this loser I was going to be dealing with that night, I was our only shot, and I couldn’t blow it. He went for girls like me (and Willow), and one could say Raye, Luna, Jessie and Shanti weren’t at all like me (or Willow). And since he was Willow’s ex, and he was giving her troubles, me and the other Angels were trying to shut him down.

It wouldn’t do for him to see my ear thingy and the jig being up.

It’d taken some doing to get to the point of this fake date, even if he didn’t know it was fake, including some reconnaissance (to others this might be considered stalking, though stalkers tended to stalk, and we were stalking as a means to an end—I liked to think that made all the difference so it didn’t feel skeevy).

It also included me signing up to a dating app (not my thing at all, when I found my guy, it’d happen like it was supposed to happen…organically) and arranging for me to be in his vicinity because the app he used to prey on women was one that binged with a possible match when someone was close.

Seriously.

Creepy, or what? (I’ll answer that…it was creepy.)

Why any woman would willingly allow strangers to know she was nearby, I had no idea.

I didn’t suspect that app was going to have a long lifespan. I’d messed around with it, and unsurprisingly, the vast majority of people on it were men.

And I suspected many of those men were what we weren’t but were forced to be under the circumstances: stalkers.

---