A Dream of Pale Blue EyesChris Evo phoenixandthepelican.blogspot.com part one of more then that“Beautiful.”“. . . hm?”“Your eyes. Every time I see them, wow. I get dizzy.”“Of course.” Her eyes really were beautiful. An incredibly dark brown, so much as toappear black, they were pools any man would get lost in without hesitation. Of course she didn't needhim to tell her this, but it was good to hear. At least the first time it was.“I need to figure out where these numbers are coming from if I'm going to keep making themoney here. Bradshaw's gonna have my head if I don't get this straightened out tonight.” Her tappingformed an oddly regular rhythm beneath the frown only the the most potent joke could hope to sculptinto what Diggery knew to be the most reassuring smile this world has ever known. He started to hum atune at the speed her typing kept, until a sharp glance turned his attention to the kitchen. She hunchedher slender, ravenesque frame into the computer with a dedication most programmers can barelymuster.“She never wants to laugh anymore. Why wouldn't someone want to be happy?” Hemuttered rhetorically as he deftly mixed two shots of vodka, an ounce of orange juice and a pinch of whatever the hell was on the edge of the spice rack for a hint of surprise.“That girl probably just has better things to do with her time!” He spun around in shock.“Wha- dammit!”Sprite was back. It had been almost a month this time. Almost enough tosettle into a normal life again.“Oh come on Diggery, we both know what's going on here. You put up with her for her sexy, sexy body and she puts up with you for your sexy, sexy . . .” Thin nearly to a point of beingunhealthy, far younger and much shorter then the great stoic at the computer, Sprite managed to crossthe sterile kitchen quickly. Diggery took the opportunity to down his concoction. She had a playfulswagger about her, but faltered in confusion here. “You know, I don't know why she puts up with you.You've got a nice bum but it's hardly worth paying for all the booze.”“It can't be that I'm a talented artist.” He dejectedly tried to swirl his empty glass, pleadingwith the last beads of liquid for something to make Sprite leave early for once.“Oh come on, I love your work. Your guitar's getting better, and that short story about thedog, the one in a hospital, was SPOT. ON.” The guest hoisted herself onto the counter beside him andstretched a leg out to play with his arm. He noticed the unusually small shorts as her bare foot movedhis shoulder in something which transitioned seamlessly between a playful kick and a massage. Shegenerally stuck to jeans or other gender-neutral clothing, saying looking like a girl made her feel like anidiot. Makeup, skirts, bikinis- especially bikinis- all as bad as corsets in her eyes.“What you think doesn't matter. It's what paying customers, real people think.” He pickedup a letter from his editor. “And real people are all either bored or pissed.”“I'm real enough for you, aren't I Diggy? Diggerydoo? Put down that glass, or at least fillup a new one.” She took it out of his hand and it seemed to disappear. He knew it would turn upsomewhere, the stuff she picked up always did. It had alarmed him at first, finding his combs and loosechange in weird places, but he was used to it by now. His favorite was when she had pushed adecorative sword off of his wall and he'd pulled it out of an old ladies' coin purse he found in the park

two weeks later.“I need to get something from the living room.” He rushed right through the door, carefulnot to look at Sprite again. He didn't want her to have the satisfaction of being seen.“Poo.”“I'm going to the store, need anything babe?” Laranna turned briefly to stare right throughhim, crossing off a mental checklist of hundreds of superfluous items.“Nothing major. Try to be safer.” The rhythm was going again before she stopped talking.He absently wondered if it was about that pay cut she was trying to force on the board. She'd have to be pretty damn convincing; no one ever voted to give themselves less money, especially in a goodeconomy. Laranna's typing was relentless through his panicked flight from the flat. He was unsurprisedto see Sprite waiting patiently in the elevator despite his weak lie and resigned himself to a very longnight.“Stop pretending Laranna loves you.”“You can't have me. You- are you even capable of having anyone?” She turned to him andfailed to look anywhere nearly as fierce as a wet cat.“Well if you keep insisting I'm imaginary then I can't very well have anyone else can I?Besides, I'm fun and young and not against occasionally flashing people, so I can have anything I want.So there.” She stuck out her tongue at him.“Ara has a gentle side too, you know.”“And I have a fierce side. GRR!” She assumed a tiger pose with an appropriately massivegrin and began to tickle him ineffectively.“So what do you want me to do this time?”“I want you to be happy. That's all I've ever asked.”“What about all those assignments? The time you told me to spend an entire day standingon a street corner.”She rounded on him indignantly. “I just wanted you to sulk outside for once, get a littlefresh air and some new story ideas.”“How did you know that car was going to get hit by the bus?”“I didn't. I told you it was just luck you could save that guy.” The elevator dinged as thedoors opened. It was a nice apartment building full of wealthy fools, but at this hour the only people inthe lobby were the attendant around the corner playing with his pen behind a high desk and somenameless suit playing with a teenager as he walked out the door. “But if you need some sort of mightyquest you can go to the grocery store and buy some vegetables. I noticed you're out of stuff that doesn'tkill ya.” Sprite kissed him quickly on the cheek and skipped through an Employees Only side door before the corner of the night attendant's desk.“Hey Jimmy, you know where the nearest all-night grocery store is?” The attendant blinkedand looked up at Diggery, smiling at this break from his routine of not quite sleeping for eight hours.Diggery was always interesting.“Sorry sir. I personally live off of fast food. Pizza and stuff.”“Isn't Pizza Hut a grocery store? I mean, they technically sell bread, tomato, lots of cheeses,meat, pineapple, olive, and several vegetables. Oh! And there's a salad bar too! It's better then PriceChopper!” Diggery tried to smile but couldn't hold his head high enough to convince anyone.“Great point sir. I think there's a big gas station on 45

street. It has a bit more then milk.”“What I need is a few vegetables. I haven't had a good salad for years and I found a recipein an old cookbook in my closet.”“Your talents never cease to amaze me, sir. I think they do have a few green things in there,and if not they might have a better idea of where to look. Good luck.”Diggery walked out onto the street trying to plot the most efficient route to 45

street. Itwas only about a mile, so he decided not to call a cab this time. The city seemed to be busy no matter

what time it was, but at two in the morning he could leave a comfortable distance between himself andthe next pedestrians for most of his walk. Sadly, not everyone could be ignored so easily.“Hi Diggy!” Sprite emerged from an alleyway holding a package wrapped clumsily in brown paper beneath one arm. There was no way to know where she had been, but it seemed that thoselight blue eyes never left him in the few minutes of peace he enjoyed when they were out of sight. Neon figures cemented to the entrance of a closed bar mocked him as her innocent smile tried vainlyto ease his discomfort.“Where did you go back there?” He got an answer almost every time he asked, but it rarelymade sense.“I had to pick up a gift I got for you! Here, open it.” He stopped walking as the ten inchcube was shoved into his face. This was new. Sprite delighted in messing with his head, keeping himguessing at whether she was real or imaginary or something from another dimension, but she never,ever gave him anything material.“What is it?” He hesitated to take it, but knew from experience that Sprite couldn't evenhurt inanimate objects without protest. He fought back a smile remembering the time she leapt fromsome bushes in the park to tackle him so he didn't step on a caterpillar.“Open it, silly!”“Alright, but it better match the style of my flat! I don't want any clashing.”“You don't even know what clashing means, and that nasty shirt and ratty old jacket provesit.”“Right, sorry.” He removed the paper to find a pile of drawing materials -pens, markers,and numerous pencils as well as a fancy wooden paintbrush- on top of a sketch of a small Asian town ateither dawn or dusk. Nothing in the picture was colored except a thin random stretch of sky showinglight pink and yellow and a pale young boy sitting morosely in the shadow of a house. The town hid inthe middle of some jungle, a traditional temple surrounded by shacks, with a handful of fearful peopleducking in or out of it's various shoddy structures. On closer inspection he realized it was the first pageof an otherwise blank sketch book.“This is very nice, but what am I supposed to do with it?” He looked up at her, but foundhimself again alone on the busy street.Diggery tried hard to ignore the silence of the man across the table. Felix's power over himwas too great to work through. They'd been sitting in the back of the bar staring at each other for tenminutes, and neither one had said more then ten words.“So, how's that Ara been doing lately?” Felix deemed the silence long enough.“She's got it pretty rough, I think. All this work on the merger's been screwing up themanagement on both sides. Shareholders love her, but the rest of them. . . I don't know. I've never beena good business man.”“Which is exactly why I called you here today to talk. You don't know business.”“You're my agent. You're entire job is to know enough about business that I don't have tocare.” Felix laughed, bright green eyes taking in more light then seemed natural.“Right you are, Doug. Right you are. Now I'm going to use my supreme business expertiseto pass on an important trade secret to you. Are you ready for this?” He leaned over the table.“Yeah.”“Are you sure?” He leaned further in.“Yeah.” Diggery, not sure what was happening, leaned in a little.Felix was most of the way on to the table, speaking in a barely discernible whisper belowthe hum of the bar crowd. “Really sure?”“Yeah, of course.”Felix cleared his throat. “Editors don't like missed deadlines.” Diggery flounced back into