by Anna Ferrara
There was no trace of any ‘X’ on either palm. Nor did my arms look like they had ever been broken.
What if all that I had seen before had never even happened? I was so sure I had seen Arden Villeneuve orgasming so many times before yet, apparently, I never had? Something was very wrong with me. My memories and reality were not in sync.
Arden Villeneuve returned in a fluster and told me she had to go. She mumbled something about her manager having messed up the dates of an important interview or something. I didn’t care. I was more than delighted to see her go, even though I was polite enough not to let it show.
“It was nice meeting you, anyhow,” she said before she left. She was charming and gorgeous, as always, but oddly distant. “Feel free to stay and order whatever you like. Marco will put it on my tab.”
I realised she hadn’t even touched the food on the sculpture between us. Probably because she wasn’t in the least interested in sharing bodily fluids with me. Unlike what I thought. “No, thanks. I need to go too,” I said and remained seated because I saw the trace of alarm in her eyes right after I said those words. “It was very nice meeting you too though.”
She smiled when she saw me not getting up, wished me a nice day then turned and walked away. Out of my life forever, I figured.
I counted to fifty very slowly after she had gone. When I hit fifty, I took one last glance at the sculpture before me, picked up my belongings and walked away without bothering to taste the rest of those very expensive award-winning sensations.
On the way out, while standing amidst headache-inducing shocks of pop colour, I stopped by Marco to ask if he had received roses from Arden Villeneuve earlier in the year, in May.
He said he had. He found them leaning against the door of his apartment when he got home at night.
I asked him for the date today.
He said it was ‘23 June’.
When I asked for the year, he told me ‘2030’ and gave me a smile that wasn’t exactly as warm or genuine as the ones he had been giving me before.
I walked right out of Madame Pokerface without even pretending to smile in return.
Chapter 15
23 June 2033?
Paul ordered room service for dinner that night—dry-aged beef burgers with a side of truffle fries for the both of us because I simply shrugged when she asked me what I wanted. We ate by the tin can table next to Room 103’s big industrial window in complete silence. My plate remained untouched even when hers got all cleared out.
“You’re missing out,” she said when she leaned back into her leather chair to watch me while wiping her mouth on a napkin.
I pushed my plate over to her side with the hand not holding a cigarette, without looking at her. “Have more.”
She sighed like an elderly survivor of multiple wars. “How can I help?”
I kept my eyes down and dragged at my cigarette. “Could you tell me what really happened between me and Arden Villeneuve? If you can see her in my thoughts, that would mean our year-long affair really happened, right?”
Paul sighed again. “Unfortunately... wrong. I can’t tell the difference between a person’s thoughts and a person’s memories. I did see her in your mind, yes... in all sorts of compromising positions... but I can’t tell if it’s something you imagined or if, you know, it all really happened.”
Arden Villeneuve looking right into my eyes while half-naked on a massage table... imagined? Arden Villeneuve’s toes curling each time I ran my hands along the insides of her thighs... imagined?
But it all looked so real in my head! I sighed. “So you’re saying I could be crazy?”
“A lot of people are. Nothing to be ashamed of.”
“Why don’t I just go see a doctor tomorrow? Maybe what I need is medication. Real medication.”
“You can’t, Lane. They’ll expect some form of ID and you’re legally dead, remember?”
“Right. Legally dead. Wow.”
“Maybe the best thing to do now is to just... let it go? You haven’t imagined anything crazy the whole time I’ve been out with you so maybe it was just a passing phase? Why don’t we go do things again tomorrow? Go back to enjoying ourselves? I found out about a secret apartment at the library you were at. On the fourth floor. We could go check that out? It’s funny how I got to know about it. One of the interns found it but didn’t dare tell anyone because it was behind a door with a ‘no entry’ sign and she was afraid they’d punish her for disobeying the rules. I mean how stupid is that? She found a piece of history yet all she cared about was—”
“Paul, stop. I can’t enjoy anything if I can’t even be sure the things I enjoyed before were real. I need to know what really happened. I can’t just let this go. What if Arden Villeneuve was just lying? Maybe she just didn’t trust Blaine with the truth? She never wanted anyone to know about us anyway. Maybe she was just…” My heart fell. “Ashamed of what she did with me? Regardless, I need to know for sure. I need to know if... I’m really crazy.”
Paul frowned then sighed for the umpteenth time that evening. “Well, I do know of someone who would be able to help, but…”
“But what?”
“She’s locked up at Wonderdrug. We’ll need to break her out if you want her to read your past.”
My heart fell a second time. Read my past? For real? And what, were we going to jump out of that tenth floor window again? This time with two women in my arms? God. I thought Paul sounded crazy and yet... she was all I had. I bit my lip and stared right at her. “Why don’t you do it? You have amazing powers too, right? You could meet Arden, read her mind, find out what’s really going on.” I thought it was worth the gamble. Why not?
Paul’s frown deepened at once. “Meet Arden again? You promised you’d see her only once!”
I reached over and took her by the hands. “Just one last time. Please?”
Paul stared at my hands on hers for a good few seconds then wrenched her hands out of my grasp. “No. It’s too risky. Why don’t you just take it that she was ashamed of you and we’ll just wait and see? I’ll watch you. If you develop new hallucinations then we’ll find a way to get you to a doctor, how ‘bout that?”
I considered it for a second but my heart eventually got the better of me. “No. I need to know what’s going on. Now.”
“But I don’t want to do it!”
“Hey, I helped you get out of Wonderdrug so you owe me.”
“Hey! I helped YOU get out of Wonderdrug too so we’re even.”
“No, I never wanted to get out, remember? I was happy there. I had a good opinion of myself there. And now I’ve discovered I’m either batshit crazy or a loser my former lover doesn’t want to associate with and it’s all thanks to you, so you still owe me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means if you don’t come with me to meet Arden Villeneuve, I’m going to confront her outright, tell her who I am and find the truth out for myself.”
Paul snorted. “Sure, go ahead. See if she believes you. Make a din and get yourself noticed by CRO. See if I care.”
“Fine. It wasn’t like I had to deal with any of this shit when I was at Wonderdrug anyway! I don’t mind going back!” I kicked back my leather chair, stormed towards the front door and put my hand on the handle.
Paul appeared between me and the front door even before I could begin to push down the handle. She slammed her palm across the door and stared at me with her pupils wide open, her brows furrowed and her breath quick and short. It looked as if she was reading me, trying to see into my soul, trying to see if there was anything I wasn’t telling her.
I wasn’t not telling her anything. My mind was made up. I simply had to find out what was really going on, no matter what. And I made sure she saw that in my unwavering return stare.
She did, I think. The fierce look she had on her face faltered and she sighed. Again. “Fine,” she said in a low voice. “I’ll help y
ou. Once. After that, we’re never doing anything like it ever again, do you hear?”
I nodded quickly. “Okay.”
“If she declines your invitation to meet, which is likely, given her reaction to you earlier, we’ll stick with my plan. Wait and see and never contact her again. Are we clear?”
I didn’t like her plan but I nodded anyway.
It was, after all, better than doing nothing at all, right?
Chapter 16
24 June 2033?
Arden Villeneuve did agree to meet again, to my relief. She didn’t sound entirely enthusiastic at first but did say yes once I told her I was leaving the country for good the day after and never coming back. Paul wasn’t thrilled—she stormed out of the convenience store we borrowed the phone from—but she did perk up when I told her all about the restaurant Arden Villeneuve wanted to meet us at.
Top’s was the sort of restaurant Paul and I would never have been able to get a table at, not even if we had all the cash in the world. You needed a reputation to be able to place a reservation, which was why we got stared at a lot while waiting in line to go in. Everyone—famous YouTubers, CEOs, F1 racers, passersby on the street—seemed to be trying to figure out who we were. They gave us curious smiles with sparkling, friendly eyes, and shamelessly checked us out from head to toe.
Paul and I smiled back like proud members of the nouveau riche, confident in our new clothes and heavy makeup. We strutted to the front like we truly belonged, even when the hostess—a young black lady with a face and body like a movie star’s—eyed us with caution.
“Do you have a table, ladies?”
“Yes,” I said, fully confident. “Guests of Arden Villeneuve. Blaine Thompson and friend.”
The hostess’ face changed when she heard the words ‘Arden Villeneuve’ and the most pretty grin that hadn’t been there before appeared on it right away. “Ah, yes. We have you. Miss Thompson and friend, welcome to Top’s. Head on into the elevator please, it’ll take you right up to Miss Villeneuve.” She smiled as if she had known us forever now.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Have a lovely evening!”
The four ginormous bouncers with wrestler-sized biceps parted to the side to allow us entry into the plain metal elevator they had been standing in front of. They even smiled at us as we entered and made us both feel very much welcome.
There were no buttons within the elevator but the doors closed the moment we were both in and the elevator started moving up as if it just knew where we were supposed to go. Pressure built up in my ears and I just knew the world was falling behind even though there was no sound or indicator that confirmed that it was. I looked at Paul as I swallowed hard to rid my ears of the uncomfortable pressure in them and she smiled at me in response. She was enjoying the whole shebang too, I could tell.
We found ourselves face to face with a pleasant-looking male waiter the moment the elevator doors opened. He called me ‘Miss Thompson’ like the lady below had and instructed us to follow him. It wasn’t hard to guess where we were going to go. There was only one set of metallic double doors in the short purple-tinged corridor we crossed as far as I could see. Both metallic doors swung open the moment we got close. The waiter invited us inside—
—and we found ourselves outside, on a large platform that protruded out of the building towards a panoramic view of the city at night. It looked as if we were a hundred storeys above ground. There was no railing to save us from rolling over the edge even though huge gusts of wind ran into our hair at great speeds. I was, instinctively, a little nervous about safety but forgot all about it the moment I caught sight of Arden Villeneuve.
Goes without saying, she looked ravishing. She sat right in the middle of the platform, at a round table illuminated in the colour purple, with her hair—purplish in the light—pulled back in a neat twist-wrapped bun and her body covered in a red dinner dress from the chest down. She stood as we approached and gave us one of her charming smiles. “Nice to see you again, Blaine, and nice to meet you...?”
“Paula. My girlfriend,” I said on a whim. That familiar scent of champagne, vanilla and roses emanating from Arden Villeneuve’s neck made me awfully nervous all over again and since Paul looked great, all dressed up in that brand-new little black dinner dress of hers, I found myself hoping that an intimate association with her might improve Arden Villeneuve’s opinion of my social value.
Paul glanced at me with raised eyebrows before turning to Arden Villeneuve and smiling like the hostess below did before. “Hi, very nice to meet you.” She extended a hand to Arden Villeneuve like a decent member of society would and I was relieved to see that nothing in her behaviour suggested she ever lived in a mental institution.
My sense of relief turned into alarm when Arden Villeneuve met Paul’s eyes with interest and shook her hand for longer than perfect strangers should. Thankfully, the waiter invited us all to sit and their dangerous lingering handshake ended for good.
“May I serve your wine, ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you, Donovan,” Arden Villeneuve said. She seemed a great deal calmer than she had been at Madame Pokerface and no longer stared at me at all. “I got us a 2000 DRC. For us to remember Lane with.”
Because I was born in the year 2000. She knew? Donovan the waiter picked up the bottle in the bucket stand by the side of the table and poured white wine into the glasses in front of us.
“To Lane,” Arden Villeneuve said when her glass was half-full. She held her glass up and those dazzling sparkles on her fourth finger blinded my eyes all over again.
“To Lane,” Paul and I followed. We clinked our glasses and took our first sips, during which I thought I saw Arden Villeneuve peeping at me from behind her glass.
I can’t say if it really happened though because she looked away the moment she saw me looking back.
“Thank you,” I said when we all set our glasses down. “This means a lot to me.” Way more than you’ll ever know.
“It’s only right. Lane did a great deal for me when she was alive.”
Really? I looked into Arden Villeneuve’s now purple eyes and, for a brief second, felt that familiar, overpowering sense of connection send a jolt of electricity down my spine. Arden Villeneuve removed her eyes the moment that happened so I really can’t say if it made her feel the same.
“Lane’s massages were simply the best,” she added. “She had a gift.”
Oh. That sort of gift? Not the other sort? My skin curdled after she said those words so I made the decision to keep my eyes away from hers from that point on.
“Anyway,” I heard her say. “What have you girls been doing in New York? Did you collect Lane’s remains? I heard they were unclaimed a while back.”
I kept my mouth shut because I couldn’t think of anything logical to say. Fact was, ‘my remains’—whatever the hell those were—were, if they did actually exist, probably still unclaimed, lying in a ditch somewhere, rotting and forgotten, and I was not in the least proud of it.
“Yes, we have,” Paul said on my behalf. “But I think tonight should be about happier things. Like your wedding. To that multi-billionaire? Gosh, what does that feel like?”
I heard Arden Villeneuve giggle like a school girl right away. “Oh, it’s been wonderful. Like a dream I never expected could come true.” She sounded cheery; all that prior solemness in the wake of Lane’s death was totally gone.
I couldn’t resist the urge to look up to check if she meant what she was saying.
She looked like she did indeed. Her face was all crinkled with smiles. My heart fell and I turned my eyes to my wine right away.
“You look like you’re madly in love,” Paul said.
“I am. Yes. I just feel so lucky.”
“You’re not crazy,” I heard Paul suddenly say.
I looked up at her in horror but relaxed when I saw she had her mouth over her glass and seemed to be drinking wine.
“You did have a year-long affair with her,” Paul’s voice continued, in my head, even though her mouth never moved and her eyes never looked my way. “She just doesn’t want to admit it because it wasn’t love for her. Just... lust, I guess.”
I felt my heart plunge. “Lust?” I asked with my mind while pretending to be fully preoccupied with adjusting the napkin on my lap.
“Yes. She’s not the type of woman who would ever want to be with a person like you, Lane. Give it up.”
Paul put down her glass and smiled at Donovan the waiter who had reappeared by the side of our table with three large plates balanced along his arm. Meanwhile, a part of me just died inside.
“First course: Caviar tartare with filet mignon,” Donovan said as he set the plates down in front of us. All three plates contained a tiny round mass of compressed black and white dots in the middle. “Very fresh.”
I forced myself to smile back at him like a normal, happy person probably would, even though the sight of the dots together made my senses pickle and my stomach heat up with rage.
“This menu’s my favourite,” Arden Villeneuve told us. “It starts raw—raw fish and raw caviar—then you get a half-cooked pan-seared sea scallop and eventually a completely cooked baked lobster. It’s quite the experience, if you like unusual experiences, that is.” She grinned and Paul grinned back politely.
I didn’t. I kept my eyes on the plate in front of me and put fishy-smelling clumps of dots into my mouth without a word.
The waves soundtrack crashing gently in the background suddenly became especially loud. I glanced at the night sky ahead of us and noticed, at last, the almost invisible plate of glass between us and the deadly hundred-storey drop.
“Is it good?” I heard Arden Villeneuve say. She sounded as if she was looking in my direction.
“Not really,” I replied, even though the taste of whatever was in my mouth barely registered in my mind.
“But she will eat it all anyway,” Paul added with a huge smile. She looked at me and seemed to be trying to hint me to watch myself with the subtle twitches of her face.
