PREY

I was waiting for that bitch to go to sleep. I gaze behind me at her worthless husband, he's out cold. And they call that sex? For crying out loud the dude's lacking where most angels are packing and to top it off he's uncircumcised, you do the math! I edge out of the bed and slip into the restroom where I take a quick cold shower. After about ten minutes of soaking and scrubbing I step out the tub, wrap a towel around my body and go out into the room to get dressed. I open the top drawer of a raggedy wooden dresser to fetch some panties and a bra. I dry off and slip into them. I toss the towel to the stained green carpet. I get on my knees and pull out a brown box with some clothes in there for me. I refuse to wear Piper's clothes, she has no color in her wardrobe, lacks style and creativity, and if she would've let me shop for her in high school we could've won Best Dressed instead of that snob, Joanne. I take my outfit out of the box then kick it back underneath the bed.

Oh I guess you're curious to who the hell I am, right? I'm Prey, Piper's other half and it's not what you think I'm no dark, evil spirit possessing her, I'm like her inner child—for lack of a better phrase—I emerge to have a little fun, keep Piper alive, she's one of those people who are existing instead of living and there's definitely a difference, but enough about me for now, you have an idea who I am, I'm dressed and as Pink said, let's get this party started. I walk over to check myself out in the oval mirror on the back of the front door.

I'm in a lavender butterfly-sleeved shirt with a dark purple "P" logo embroidered at the front left chest whereas the center have a cute tie front peek-a-boo keyhole—slightly exposing my dark purple bra—which is neatly tucked into a pair of figure-flaunting denim low-risers with paint-like lavender stains throughout the jeans. And to top it off, I accessorized with a dark purple stud belt and too cute dark purple terry cloth four-inch-high heeled wedged thong, now tell me I ain't hot! See, unlike Piper I have too much confidence. I run my hands across my sleek tresses, tug on the deep-purple ponytail to make sure it's still tight and spin around to admire my beauty one more time. "Damn, I'm fine!" I grab the room key and walk out the door.

I lift my head up, roll my shoulders back, bring my but in, stick my chest out and pretend I'm on a runway. My heels click across the littered floor as I strut—one leg in front of the other—slow and sexy, you know, how Beyonce does it! Did I mention that the glamour spell faded? And you think that's gonna stop me, hell, I'm on my way to the club and besides I don't care who sees me because in a few hours it'll be Piper's problem, not mine. I stand out on the sidewalk and flag a taxi down, get in and tell him to take me downtown. It's early Saturday morning and this is San Francisco, I know a club has to be open.

After about thirty minutes of silently riding, we stop in front of a jam-packed club, where the line is about a mile long and the driver turns around and announces the price. He's a short and stocky Hispanic guy with a heavy Spanish accent. "Wait a minute, aren't you one of those witches?" I could barely make out what he said. I roll my pretty brown eyes and open the door, he repeats the price. I ignore him, get out and slam the door shut. He jumps out, runs around the front of the car and stands in front of me reiterating the amount.

"Um," I lean back; his coffee breath doesn't smell too sweet, "can you back up a bit?"

"I'm not afraid of you or your dark magic," he growls," now pay me my money."

Should I blow him up? I guess I won't kill him, but freezing him won't do me any good because sooner or later it'll wear off and my problem still won't be solved. It's not like I'm just being nasty, hell, I don't have any money to give his ass, I should've thought about that before getting in the cab, huh? A gentle breeze blow my ponytail as I back away from him gesturing at him trying to freeze him, it's not working. I keep at it, I'm doing it precisely the way Piper do it both hands up facing each other but he won't freeze. I'm getting frustrated, he reaches at me, I raise my hands up and finally he freezes! Now a quick rhyme and I'm good to go.

"Uh," I think for a sec, "Cabby's being a thorn in my side."

"Cause I played him for a ride

But since he just won't let it slide

I wish him to be crucified."

Globes of white light swirl around him and he disappears. Spells aren't my forte but it got the job done. I turn and head for the club and all the teenagers in line are staring in shock, most of them on their cellular phones, some taking pictures with them. I don't know if they're in awe because they just saw a guy vanish or because they realize I'm the chic that's been posted on the front cover of every magazine this past week. I love the attention; I sashay up the concrete path past all of the flabbergasted witnesses, freeze the bouncer and enter the hot club. The sun's just now rising and it feels like it's been up for hours in here. Britney Spears Toxic is blaring from the speakers. Cigarette smoke has the joint foggy and alcohol has the floor slippery, I guess.

All eyes are on me, literally, while I saunter towards the bar. I see a cutie on a stool. He's about my age, dark, spiky hair, with thick, dark eyebrows and movie star-white smile. I approach him, introduce myself, we talk for about ten, maybe fifteen minutes about silly stuff and before you know it he follows me into an alley behind the club.

I'm pinned up against a dirty, brick wall and we're kissing, hard. His breath reeks of liquor but I don't care, I don't know him and that's what makes this exciting! I peel off the black leather jacket he's sporting.

"Solomon!" A high-pitched, female voice yells!

The guy stops kissing me. "Ashley, what are you doing?"

"No, what are you doing?" she demands inching closer. Her blue eyes flash in the morning sun.

"Your name's Solomon?" I ask. He nods. "Eww."

"What are you doing with my boyfriend?"

"I'm taking him to meet the President," I'm sarcastic, "what does it look like I'm doing?"

"Wait a minute," she narrows her eyes, "aren't you that witch, who owns that club on the other side of town, I thought you were dead!"

Solomon takes a step back to look at me, "It is her!"

Ashley charges at me slamming me into the wall, and then she smacks me. I grunt reaching for her throat, I squeeze her hard, I'm talking a vise-grip and I spin around and shove her into the wall. "Don't ever try that again, you understand?" Her face is beet-red. I turn to make sure Solomon's not doing anything sneaky. He's not, just watching like any guy would. I release my grip and before I know what's happening, the bitch stabs me in the thigh.

"Don't you ever try that again," she tosses the pocket-knife, "I hope you burn in hell where you belong, freakin' witch."

I kneel a little, it hurts, and it burns. "I guess I'll be seeing you there." I channel all of my frustration to my fists and with a swift gesture I release my fists and she explodes immediately. Solomon runs out the alley like he's never seen a cool catfight before as I hobble to the taxi car, I think I've had enough fun for one night.