“Angela?” he said. “Please tell me you’ve made progress.”
“I have,” she said. “As of a few minutes ago, Fatima’s drawing again. Pretty soon, she should be painting, too. The rest is out of my hands.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news!” he said. “I might not have to file these bankruptcy papers after all.”
“It looks that way,” Angela said. “She’s going to have her work cut out for her meeting your deadline, but I’m sure you’ll at least have something to show this weekend.”
“I can work with that,” he replied. “Thank you so much. I admit I had my doubts, but you really came through.”
“I’m just happy I could help,” Angela said.
“And now I should go finish preparations for the show,” he said. “I put everything on hold while I was waiting to hear from you. Stop by the gallery sometime and we can discuss payment for your services.”
“I will,” she said. “Talk to you later.”
“Bye,” he said, and hung up.
Angela took flight, heading back toward the Champion Hotel. She floated there, just above the roof, wondering if she should let Tony know that his antidote worked, but in the end she decided to leave him hanging a while longer. It was what he would’ve done in her position, after all.
Angela took out her phone and texted Genesis.
“Job’s done. Whenever you’re ready, I’m all yours.”
Genesis replied, “Babe, I’m always ready.”
Angela stared up at her own face, mounted on the wall of the art gallery, and stifled a groan. The painting was titled “Persistence”. She wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or insulted.
“Everybody’s looking at you,” Genesis said, slipping her arm around Angela’s waist.
“Ugh,” Angela said. “I need a new face.”
She summoned up her shapeshifting and changed into a random woman she’d sold a video game to earlier that day.
“Look at the bright side,” Genesis said. “At least it’s not your ass up there.”