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The Beautiful Ones	By : TaimaMarie Category: Individual Celebrities > Criss Angel Views: 1682 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the celebrity I am writing about. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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“Great,” Cassandra sighed as she turned off the car. She leaned her forehead against the steering wheel, ignoring the sting of her sunburn on her cheeks. She’d been driving for hours and hours, not knowing where she was going.

There hadn’t been a ton of money in her bank account to begin with, and now she was down to her last twenty dollars. The gauge needle was trembling slightly above ‘E’, and she’d left her cell phone at home.

At least this parking lot was free. Cassandra reached for her purse and pulled out her battered wallet, holding the two wrinkled tens in her palm. It was enough for a hotel room, it wasn’t enough for a bus ticket, and it wasn’t enough money to get her home.

She was stuck here, that was for sure.

Cassandra leaned her head against the sticky headrest and closed her eyes.

**

The whole town seemed to be asleep as she drove through the ATM, taking ever last penny she could. Money she had saved for college, for her wedding dress, for all the millions of things she didn’t think she wanted anymore.

In the backseat was a cardboard box stuff to the gills with clean underwear, a couple changes of clothes, and all the things she couldn’t bear to leave behind. Of course, Stanley the Bunny was peeking up over the edge at her, his round plastic eyes full of worry and disapproval.

“I don’t know what else to do!” she had told him, before focusing her attention back on the road.

Her next stop had been Michael’s house. She’d put the ring in an envelope, slipped the envelope into the mail box, climbed back into her car and left. She had never felt as free as she had in the next fifteen minutes of driving.

Things went pear shaped sometime around dawn, when she was nibbling on a stale gas station doughnut and drinking some toxic, oily coffee in an effort to stay awake. Her cell phone jangled next to her on the passenger seat.

The ring tone set her nerves on edge. Of course it was Michael.

Without another thought, Cassandra rolled down her window and chucked it out the window.

And nothing felt better for the next five minutes when she remembered that she didn’t have anyone’s phone number and couldn’t really call home.

**

How she had ended up in Vegas, Cassandra wasn’t sure. Honestly, it was someplace she had always wanted to go, but she never expected to end up there like this. Now she didn’t even have enough money to gas herself up and drive into the next town.

“Okay, you can figure this out.” She drummed her fingers against the steering wheel.
“I guess the first thing to do would be to find a job.”

Easier said than done. She should probably buy a newspaper and check the want ads. People used to do that back in the days before Craigslist and monster.com. Slowly, anxiously, she slid out of her car, careful to lock the door behind her.

The Nevada sun was bright and hot, and instantly her hair began to frizz and curl around her face. With a frustrated sigh, Cassandra brushed it back.

There, hanging halfway out of a public garbage can was a newspaper. Walking slower and squinting, it was for that day. Blushing, Cassandra eased it out from under empty Big Gulp cups and McDonald’s wrappers.

“The things you have to do to survive.” She sighed.

Across the street, there was a park bench partially shaded by a palm tree. She made her way over, aware that she looked grimy and exhausted. Sinking down onto the metal, she opened the paper to the back page.

Teacher, janitor, stuffing envelopes. Nothing seemed like a good option. She blew out a thin stream of air and was about to crumple up the paper and start hitting the pavement when a small ad at the bottom corner caught her eye.

Wanted: One personal assistant. Must be brave and willing to travel. (Well, she had just driven across the country by herself in that junk bucket of a car.) Flexible hours, filing skills a must. (She’d been the secretary of the Student Council.) Interested? Call C.Angel.

There was a number printed below. Quickly, Cassandra tore out the ad and stuck it in her pocket.

Now to go and find some change and a pay phone.
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The Beautiful Ones