Page 13 of Holding on to Chaos
Oh, sweet Jesus. Her full name from those sinfully perfect lips? She was pretty sure her underwear had just incinerated. She was just going to melt into a puddle of lust right here in her parents’ front yard. She let out the breath she was holding and carefully slid under his arm and into the driver’s seat. “Good night, Sheriff.”
He shut the door once she was in place and watched her pull down the drive. Eva waited until she was sure he couldn’t see her before smacking her head against the back of the seat. “That. Was. Hot.”
It was only nine, she thought, looking at the dashboard clock. With inspiration like this she should probably put in a few more hours of work.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Charisma Champion breezed into the police station in a cloud of eucalyptus and thick, black hair. Bangles jingled on her wrist as she waved at Minnie. She wore a linen poncho in pale purple over a long skirt, managing to look both ethereal and disheveled. She hadn’t aged a day since Donovan had graduated high school.
“Ms. Champion,” Donovan said, switching his coffee to his left hand to greet her.
“Please, it’s been more than a decade since I was grading your papers. Call me Charisma,” she insisted with a grand gesture.
“Charisma then,” Donovan agreed, waving toward his office. “Thanks for coming in. I could have come to you.”
“But then I wouldn’t have been able to get a substitute for my Intro to Wool class and stop for a latte at Overly Caffeinated, now would I?” she said wiggling her coffee cup, eyes sparkling.
And since she’d walked past half the businesses in town to get to the police station, tongues would be buzzing with speculation.
“Well, thanks for making time for me,” Donovan said, settling in behind his desk. “I appreciate it.”
“I must say. A fire yesterday, and you calling me in for questioning? It’s rather exciting!”
“It’s related to the fire,” Donovan began.
Her eyes lit up. “Am I a suspect? How thrilling!”
Donovan shook his head. “Not at all, unless you have something you’d like to confess.” He was joking but cut her off when Charisma tapped her finger to her chin and began to think back on whatever mysterious transgressions she’d committed. “I just wanted to ask you a few questions as a consultant.”
He wondered if he was the first sheriff to use an astrologist to prevent calamity.
Charisma interlaced her fingers over her knee and leaned forward. “Do tell.”
“Do you recall anything strange happening in town back in the late eighties?”
“My dear sheriff, strange things happen here every day,” she laughed.
“True. But I’m thinking of several strange things. Around the same time?” he prompted.
“Oh, you mean when Uranus and Pluto crossed? That was quite the debacle, wasn’t it?”
“Was it?”
Charisma rose from her seat and approached his whiteboard, the lower portion of which was covered with stick drawings and crudely scrawled words like “fart” and “booger” from Aurora’s last visit.
“May I?” Charisma asked, gesturing with the eraser.
“By all means.”
She wiped part of the board clean and picked up the marker, slipping into teacher mode. “Here we have our solar system,” she said, drawing a series of circles. “And here are our planets.”
“Question. I thought Pluto was reclassified as a dwarf planet?”
Charisma snorted. “Science and astrology may share certain characteristics, but in the astrology community, Pluto is still Pluto, and its characteristics are still its characteristics. May I continue?”
“By all means.”
She turned back to the board. “Each planet affects or ‘rules’ specific aspects of our lives. Hence why people born under different ‘signs’ have different personality traits.”
