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The Sacred Rays
Gabriella: Part One
January 9th, 2016.
Saturday.

The typically blinding Los Angeles sun timidly hides behind its horizon as the citizens enjoy just a few more minutes of darkness before its rays blanket the land with an encompassing daybreak. For one Miss. Gabriella Montez, however, her rejuvenating slumber has not even started as the sun prepares its upcoming ascension from behind the massive stretch of land.

"To art!" The two roughly clank their sturdy shot glasses together as though they were unbreakable. After a hard smack against the thick wooden bar, they quickly toss back their final toast of the night.

"Yeah!" Her small, pale, brown haired company slurs, "Let's do one more!"

"No way, Kelsi! Are you crazy?" Gabriella mumbles in protest, pressing her hands firmly down on the wooden bar in front of her for support as she stands to leave, "I can't be too hung over tomorrow." She softly drags her limp fingers across the back of Kelsi's barstool as she crosses behind her towards the exit.

"You're no fun, Gabriella!" Kelsi, still sitting at the bar, shouts over the loud hum of glasses clanking, gossiping people, and music at her departing friend.

Gabriella stops in her tracks as the challenging words strike her ears. Stumbling about as she spins around to face her friend again, Gabriella shouts back, "You know what, Kelsi?"

"What?" Kelsi murmurs boringly, leaning onto her elbows on the bar.

"It's not everyday we sell every single art piece!" Gabriella declares victoriously at the top of her lungs. Her heeled boots land in heavy, uncoordinated stomps on the wooden floor as she stumbles her way back to the bar.

"No, it's not!" Kelsi laughs in agreement while lazily waving over the bartender. "Bartender!" She barks over the soundtrack of the other patrons and loud, vibrating bass, "Two more shots of your strongest poison!"

...

Her hand loosely grips onto the pillow situated beneath her heavy head. Reluctant to wake up, her eyelids remain tightly shut to keep any light from entering into her sensitive eyes. Against her hopes, she soon regains complete consciousness accompanied with a massive headache that feels as though a hundred pounds of bricks were placed on her head.

A voice orders impatiently from above her, "Drink this." She hears the soft clank of a glass being set down on the coffee table near her.

"Where am I?" She asks, the pain evident in her raspy, dry voice.

The voice answers simply, "Living room."

"How did I get here?" Gabriella murmurs, still disoriented, while gently rubbing her eyes.

"Wow," The voice begins with a louder enunciation than before, "I wake up at four thirty in the morning to pick up you and your friend from some shady bar and you can't even remember it?" The voice jokingly scoffs with a rough edge of disappointment.

Wincing at every loud syllable, Gabriella buries her head into the pillow in hopes of muffling the sound.

"I suppose that's the thanks I get being a good friend," the voice continues its tease.

"You'd be an even better friend if you got me a trash can," Gabriella groans.

After a long sigh, there's a shuffling sound of a trashcan scooting close to her. Finally opening her eyes to spot the can, Gabriella leans over the couch beneath her to throw up into the lined plastic bin. She sees the pair of ugly, yet incredibly comfortable white nursing shoes shuffle backwards away from her she empties her stomach's contents into the trash.

"I'm guessing it was a good night, eh?" The dark skinned, twenty-something, apron-covered woman asks while looking away from the spewing Gabriella.

"The best," Gabriella informs her between pauses to vomit, "You should have seen the turn out, Taylor. We sold them all." She lazily brings up a limp hand to wipe her lips off on the back of it.

"Really?" Taylor asks, sounding both impressed and repulsed. Impressed with the sales, repulsed by the vomiting.

"Yeah," Gabriella speaks shortly before another wave of vomit steals her voice. Finally, the vomiting ceases and Gabriella sits up on the couch before sipping on the large glass of water. As Taylor takes away the trashcan to toss, Gabriella calls after her, "And thank you, Taylor. I don't know where I'd be without you."

"Probably in a jail cell with a DUI." Taylor shouts back matter-of-factly from her place at the trash shoot.

"Thankfully not yet." Gabriella states appreciatively as Taylor makes her way back to the couch, "Really, thank you. You're the best, most patient, most responsible friend I have."

"Well, thank you for your appreciation. And you're…" Taylor plops down next to Gabriella, "well, you're something else, aren't you?"

"Taylor?" Gabriella begins curiously, being distracted by something on Taylor. "What's with the apron?"

"Oh," She glances down at the grease-covered apron hanging over her pajamas as though she had totally forgotten about it. "You mean this? I'm making food for the homeless shelter. Something technically we were supposed to do since you promised we'd do it together last week, but I decided to let you sleep in."

"Again, thank you."

"But you're not getting out of coming with me to deliver the food. I really do need your help with that."

"Of course!" Gabriella slowly leans forward to stand, her joints cracking and popping audibly in the process, "I volunteer be your little servant for today to make up for this morning."

After a moment of consideration, Taylor quickly nods and says in agreement, "Deal."

...

Wielding a massive trenta Starbucks cup in her hand and shading her eyes behind an equally enormous pair of sunglasses, Gabriella cautiously purses her chapped lips and blows on the steaming hot coffee.

"At work last night…" Taylor begins, creating some small talk between the two of them in the otherwise silent car as they drive downtown, "There was this ancient woman in my wing who apparently had loose bowl movements hours before my shift began. Did any of the other nurses care to tell me this or write it in her patient notes? Nope! So I'm not checking in on her as regularly as I should have been. I realize this as I complete one of my hourly checks and open the door to this woman…I kid you not…ass naked." Taylor pauses until Gabriella's laughing dwindles, then continues, "She was covered in diarrhea."

"Gross!" Gabriella's amused expression is suddenly switched for one of repulsion, "That's enough detail for me."

"The smell was like-"

"Please!" Gabriella begs, "Taylor, I'm already nauseous enough."

"Okay, okay." A short silence lingers in the air between the two until Taylor concludes, "I just wanted you to know how my night with someone's poop-glazed great grandmother went while you and Kelsi apparently banked in on your art."

"Actually…" Gabriella thinks to tell her best friend about how the biggest seller, her Bolton Tower piece, would not be profited from because of Troy's donation, but thinks better of it. "Never mind."

"What?" Taylor asks, glancing over at Gabriella with her dark eyes narrowing in on her suspiciously.

"Nothing." Gabriella attempts to sound passive, but the words fall out nervous and extremely secretive.

"Nothing? C'mon, you have to tell me whatever you're trying to hide." After her request is only met with silence, Taylor attempts to lure out Gabriella's secret by saying, "I know you really, really want to tell me."

"All my buyers are promised anonymity," Gabriella says apologetically. "I'm not supposed to tell anyone."

"When has that ever stopped you from telling me something before?" Taylor argues.

"True."

"So dish, Gabriella!"

"Before you freak out…" Gabriella shakes her head and mumbles underneath her breath, "I can't believe I'm telling you this." Then lets out a heavy sigh and spills, "You remember Troy?"

"Troy who?"

"The one from my work. You know," the corners of her lips twitch up into a cute smile at the thought of him before continuing, "the cute, funny one I told you about?"

"Oh yeah! But what does your exhibit have to do with your work crush?"

"Well, I invited him to the exhibit and he found my piece of his father's building. He wanted to buy it, but I didn't want to sell to him because it just felt weird to make him pay for it. So we agreed that he could name the price and the profits would go to charity. He says 'fifteen', and I'm like 'fifteen hundred sounds great!' Tay…" She pauses until Taylor looks over at her, "Guess how much his check for The Red Cross was."

"Fifteen hundred." Taylor states confidently, proud of herself for paying attention to the numbers mentioned earlier in the story.

"Fifteen thousand."

Taylor, at a complete loss for words, dumbly opens and closes her mouth while her mind struggles to process the information. Finally coming to terms, she makes one important conclusion, "He likes you."

Slightly taken back and insulted, Gabriella states defensively, "I'd like to think people appreciate and support my art without doing so just to get into my pants, thank you." With her arms crossed over her chest angrily, Gabriella frowns out of her passenger window.

"Gabi, no! That's not what I meant whatsoever. I just mean…Of course your art is worth that much! I'm just- Maybe I am reading too far into it, but he had to have known you'd see the check."

"So?"

"So…He obviously bought the art because he loved it. Don't misunderstand me there, Gabi. I'm just saying that maybe at the same time he wanted to impress you."

"Oh." Gabriella softly says understandingly, "I guess that's a possibility."

As Gabriella ponders the idea and becomes lost in thought, Taylor flips on the pop radio station and hums along peacefully until they finally reach the brick building of the homeless shelter.

...

Slowly, the girls unload the heavy cart plate by plate onto a slightly tilted, old, wooden table at the far end of the large cafeteria.

"Jesus, Tay!" Gabriella exclaims as she rearranges some plates to make more room for the countless others yet to be transferred. "How early did you get up to make all of this?"

"Let's just say that I took a short nap after picking you and Kelsi up." Taylor responds while stacking plates of assorted cookies.

"Taylor!" The fragile voice of an elderly woman with a thick, nasally Jersey accent exclaims.

Gabriella follows the sound of the voice to see a heavy-set, old woman approaching the table with what looks like every necklace she owns draped from her neck.

Taylor gasps excitedly while quickly crossing around the table and into an embrace with the old woman, saying, "Teresa! I haven't seen you in weeks! How was New Jersey?"

"Difficult to leave." Teresa states sadly, her face hung low in an expression of pain from behind years of wrinkles and age spots. "I just miss my family, but they didn't seem to miss me."

"I'm sorry," Taylor rubs Teresa's back lovingly and consoles her; "At least you know you'll always have me here in LA."

"Oh Taylor, you should have a family of your own to be there for!"

After a short snort of a laugh, Taylor glances back at Gabriella to say, "Here we go again."

"Well I wouldn't have to keep telling you if you'd listen to me. You need to get yourself a husband! Your eggs aren't getting any fresher, you know!"

"Okay," Taylor states, not yet convinced to be in a rush to find a husband like Teresa wants. Suddenly, the annoying screech of an oven timer going off sounds somewhere in the kitchen, and Taylor quickly shuffles to the back.

"That girl is all work and volunteering," Teresa states disapprovingly to Gabriella.

"She loves her job," Gabriella defends. "She wants to make sure she establishes a solid career for herself before worrying about a family."

"A career can't hold you in its muscular arms before you lull off to sleep after a night of rough…" then, she quickly murmurs in a low, barely audible voice, "…you know what…But hey, maybe that's where I went wrong. I married and had babies without the slightest consideration for how to pay for them or myself for that matter. Forty years later and my kids still resent me, and I'm without a home of my own. Maybe Taylor is actually going about it the right way…but never tell her I said that."

"Will do." Gabriella then resumes her process of unloading the cart.

Meanwhile, Teresa studies over Gabriella and makes the observation, "I can tell by the nakedness of your fingers that you're without a man as well."

Gabriella's long, curled locks of dark brown hair bounce about as she nods in response.

"How is that possible? You're simply gorgeous! Don't tell me you're a workaholic like Taylor."

"Not at all!" Gabriella admits, putting down the one of the last trays of cookies, "but there is one guy at work I'm kind of interested in."

"Does he like you back?"

"I don't know." Gabriella sheepishly shrugs.

"Yes!" Taylor yells from the back.

Gabriella clarifies, "Taylor thinks so, I don't."

As opposed to responding, Teresa patiently lets her green eyes to scan over Gabriella, waiting for her to continue.

"I mean," Gabriella proceeds, "Troy's super kind and approachable." Her eyes hover above Teresa's head while she thinks of him and a soft, yet completely visible smirk finds its way onto her face. "I love talking with him, which is odd because I'm usually so reserved." As the smirk begins to fade, her normal, kind expression takes its usual spot, "He bought one of my art pieces for an absurd amount of money." She explains, "It all went to charity, but I saw the check of course. I'm not really sure of what to think of that, honestly."

"Oh honey," Teresa shakes her head warningly, "stay away from those types."

"Why?" Gabriella asks curiously.

"Men who believe they can buy your attention are bad news. He's more interested in getting your attention than you as a person."

"I don't think it's like that at all." Gabriella states unconfidently with a strong air of hesitation, as though she's trying to convince herself of it, too. After what Taylor said to her in the car about Troy's gesture, Gabriella has become increasingly more suspicious about Troy and his interest in her.

Teresa taps her lower lip with a long fingernail in consideration before saying, "I could be wrong. It wouldn't be the first time, dear." After a short chuckle, she warns Gabriella, "Just don't be surprised if you someday find out his intentions are superficial, or strictly for his own benefit."

"I don't know what he'd have to take advantage of in me." Gabriella states casually, "I don't really have anything he can take advantage of."

After dramatically rolling her bright emerald eyes, Teresa impatiently and almost angrily suggests, "Why don't you get a real perspective of yourself, Gabriella?"

"I have one!" Gabriella states defensively, "I know who I am."

"Obviously you don't if you really think you have nothing someone else would want for themselves. From what I've seen in these short minutes talking to you, you have just as much as anyone else and not a bit less. You're beautiful, kind, intelligent, and apparently an absurdly impressive artist. That's a lot of social currency for a man like Troy to get ahold of."

"Thanks," Gabriella smiles warmly at Teresa's compliments. "But I'd rather have faith in people that they wouldn't use me for my positive attributes."

"You can have faith, but don't confuse it with being plain naïve."

Taylor apologizes while approaching the two again, "Sorry about that! What did I miss?"

...

"That Teresa is one wickedly smart woman." Gabriella states admiringly as the line slowly progresses forward towards the front counter inside the deliciously smelling Qdoba.

"Yeah, most of the people there are obviously materially poor, but they are wealthy in life experience. We're supposed to teach them about budgeting and job searching, but they end up teaching us incredibly more important things, really."

A deep voice says from behind them, "Gabriella?"

"Chad!" Gabriella greets him warmly with a hug.

"Hey! What's going on?"

"Oh, we're just grabbing some lunch after some volunteering."

"Volunteering?" Chad asks in surprise, "Wow, that's great of you to do!"

"Thanks, but I'm only there because of her. She's the real volunteer. This is my roommate and best friend, Taylor McKessie."

"Taylor, nice to meet you." Chad offers out a hand to Taylor.

"Nice to meet you too, Chad." Taylor shakes his hand while never breaking her eyes away from his welcoming, light brown eyes.

"So, you volunteer?"

"Yep! Every Saturday."

"I wish I had time to do it, but I'm kind of a workaholic." Chad admits from behind a small smile.

"We create our own schedules." Taylor informs him kindly, "I'm very busy too, being a nurse. So usually I make food for them in my house then bring it to them because then I'm doing it around my busy schedule."

"You cook, too? Man, you're just the whole package, aren't you?" Chad nudges Taylor on the elbow.

After a cute giggle, Taylor quietly responds, "I wouldn't know about that," and attempts to hide a massive smile on her face in vain.

Gabriella watches the two interact with an enormous excitement bursting about inside of her. Typically, Taylor writes all men off and acts very standoffish. However, Chad seems to have broken down her wall in just a few moments. It's probably too soon to tell, but something about the way the two are acting now tells Gabriella that there is some serious potential between them.