by Ryan Schow
“I spent years of my life being in love with you,” Sebastian said to Corrine. “You were beautiful and fun, and we got a long so well that sometimes I can’t remember being in love with anything as much as I was in love with you.”
He looked at Elizabeth then, leaving Corrine standing there, blushing, her eyes moist with emotion, some of that emotion arguable guilt.
“And you,” he said to Elizabeth. “My God, where do I start?”
“With you approaching me,” she said.
“My heart stopped when I saw you. I saw you and knew I needed you.”
“Even though you had me?” Corrine asked, discretely wiping her eyes. Elizabeth’s heart was hurting for the girl. Still, she wanted to tell her not to interrupt. Choosing her battles, not trying to be cruel, Elizabeth decidedly kept her mouth shut.
“Someone else had you by then,” he admitted. “That destroyed me.” Looking back to Elizabeth, he said, “I knew there was something special about you the moment I saw you, and now that I’ve spent some time with you, I have to say I’m terrified to be with you.”
“Why?”
“You are everything I want, everything I can’t ever be. You’re twice the success story a beach rat like me will ever be. Two times,” he said, holding up two fingers. One for Raven, the other for Elizabeth.
“I get it.”
“You’ll never measure up to her,” Corrine said, crossing her arms again.
He turned to her and said, “No, Corrine, you’ll never measure up to her. You’re good, but she’s better, nicer, more…exciting. Plus she’s better in bed.”
“Sebastian,” Elizabeth said, “don’t be cruel.”
“She won’t ever stop,” he said, looking at Elizabeth. “That’s her thing. The charm will cripple me, us. I want to be with you, but she has her hooks in me and I need them out.”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” she said.
“And if she feels like she has one finger on me,” he continued, unabated, “just one tiny connection, she will not stop until she gets what she wants.”
“You’re making me look like a monster,” Corrine said, her eyes flooding uncontrollably now with the pain of their break up.
To Corrine, he said, “But I don’t want that anymore. I want you to take Elizabeth up on her promise. I want you to let her find you someone else.”
Wiping her eyes, she turned to Elizabeth and said, “And how do you think you’ll do that?”
“If you can believe it,” Elizabeth said, “I want to get to know you. Find out what you like in a boy, what you want in a man. And then, when I understand that, I’ll introduce you to someone right for you. From there it’s up to you to be his smoking hot everything.”
Wiping her eyes again, she looked at Sebastian for a long time. Then she walked up to him, pulled him into a hug and kissed him fiercely on his neck. When she let him go, she headed straight for Elizabeth.
“Alright,” she said, looking sideways at Elizabeth as she walked by. “You win.”
With that, Corrine left Sebastian and Elizabeth standing there alone in the shop. She looked at him and he looked at her, and then he said, “It is Elizabeth, right?”
“We’re all the same person at different points in our life, which means there’s only one me. It wouldn’t matter if I was Elizabeth, Raven or Savannah. We’re all just us.
“Savannah?”
Shit.
“Yeah,” she said sheepishly, “Savannah is the most current version of me.”
“Did I meet her?”
“Yeah, when she was Raven.”
“But you’re not Raven or Savannah?”
“I’m both, but I’m not. Just call me Elizabeth because that name is as real as Raven’s, and Savannah was my birth name, but not Savannah Swann.”
He pulled her into a hug and kissed her on the mouth, slow, tender, not like someone intensely in need of human affection. More like someone who has fallen in love and knows it, but wants to walk lightly so as not to ruin it all if it’s just a dream.
“It’s not a dream,” she said when he pulled away.
“It feels like it,” he said. “I’m hungry, but not for food.”
“Are you talking about sex?” she said with a grin.
“You know I am.”
“How old are you at this point in time?” he asked.
“Do you really want to know?”
“I do.”
“A touch older than you,” she teased.
“How much of a touch?” he pushed.
“This much of a touch,” she said, trailing a finger down his chest, over his abs. Then: “This much of a touch, too.” She ran her finger over his business, eliciting a grin from him. She turned and with her mind, she flipped the sign from OPEN to CLOSED and pulled the drapes. She did a quick scan of the building with her mind and found it empty, as she suspected.
“Um, how…”
“With age comes experience,” Elizabeth said as she undid his belt. He was wondering if this was all still a dream, so she said, “Still not a dream.”
And then she pulled down his boxers and right there in the middle of his surf shop, she showed him the value of an experienced woman without telling him she was nearly ninety years old.
When she finished showing Sebastian why she had been the right choice of women for him, when she watched him fix himself while thoroughly satiated at the same time, she said, “You go finish whatever you were doing when I came and interrupted, and I’ll go and grab us some sandwiches.”
“If I told you I loved you right now,” he said, red cheeked and out of breath, “would you think it improper?”
“If you said it,” she replied, giddy and pleased, “I’d believe it.”
“I love you.”
“You love what I can do for you,” she said, twisting a lock of her hair.
“I do,” he said, blushing.
She pulled a pack of gum from her purse, offered him a piece, which he took, then put one in her mouth and said, “If that truly is the case, then you’re going to love me even more tonight.”
“Why’s that?” he asked.
“Because tonight I’m going to give you your first heart attack,” she said, moving in on him. Hand on his abs, fingertips pressed lightly against him, she took his ear into her mouth and said, “I’m going to fuck you out of this life and into the next.”
Breaking into gooseflesh, he turned and kissed her, and then—nearly breathless—he said, “If I wasn’t so scared of what you could do, I’d think that was the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
“It is the sexiest thing anyone’s ever said to you. And you are scared. But by night’s end, that little morsel of love in your heart—that unexpected yet delightful protestation of love you mentioned a moment ago—oh, baby…tonight you’re going to explode into a shimmering bliss the likes of which a mortal like you could never fathom.”
In his mind, he was exhilarated, thrilled beyond measure. All he could think was omigod, omigod, OMIGOD over and over again.
She gave his ear a nibble, finished with a nip, then said, “Now that I’ve got you ready again, I’m heading out for real this time.”
“Yeah,” he said, clearly rattled, but in a good way.
“Drink with your sandwich?”
“Large Pepsi, please.”
With some extra bounce in her step, she headed up the beach, grabbed their favorite sandwiches, but on her way back she saw her standing there: Corrine. The young bombshell seemed surprised to see Elizabeth, but that surprise fell into a frown that quickly bounced back up to a flat slash that was as neutral as it was emotionless.
Elizabeth stopped as Corrine walked over to her. Corrine came face to face with Elizabeth and said, “Did he mean it? What he said earlier?”
“Mean what?”
Elizabeth saw the pain etched into her features. “Did you guys…did you have sex already?”
“Of course, we did,” she said, concealing
nothing.
This revelation hit Corrine hard; her eyes began tearing up again. After a moment, she composed herself and said, “He used to love sex with me.”
“I bet when you put your heart into it,” she said, “you’d be a great lay.”
Corrine blinked quickly, then stuttered a bit. “For a guy you mean?”
“You think a girl like me sticks to guys only?”
“You’ve been with girls?”
“Just one.”
“And?”
“She was like no one I’ve ever experienced before,” she said, holding Corrine’s judgmental eye without flinching. “It’s girls like her that keep the idea of girl crushes alive.”
“So you’re bisexual?”
“If you’re only playing half the field, you’re only getting half the action,” Elizabeth said.
“What does that mean?” she asked, clearly not getting it.
Elizabeth changed tact.
“Why does everyone feel the need to label everything? The second you slam down a judgement or a name or a label, you stop considering the fact that there’s more to an experience than what I could tell you about in seven words or less. I’m not bisexual. I love. And sometimes I like. Then there are those times when I make no judgments at all. I just go with it. Follow that unconventional path to wherever it leads.”
Looking away, she said, “Well I couldn’t do that.”
“It wasn’t the flesh that was so intoxicating,” Elizabeth heard herself saying, “it was the way she wanted me so badly, the way she looked at me, how she touched me. A guy could never do for you what a woman could. Men don’t exude that kind of sensuality. I swear, if you close your eyes and let your inhibitions fall away, sex with the right girl is the best drug you’ll ever take.”
“What if I want the D?”
“Your generation is too uptight,” she says.
“I just don’t eat pussy,” she told Elizabeth, almost like it was a slant.
Elizabeth laughed at the girl, who was now swimming in insecurity. “You really don’t get it, Corrine.”
“Maybe you could explain it to me,” she challenged.
Standing there, new memories unfolding in her head, it was almost as if the memory she had of her girl sex was new, even though it was in the past. Slowly the details of that night became clear. But then she thought of Sebastian. How the first time he’d peeled off his clothes and took to her, she’d been overwhelmed with need, intoxicated by lust. She’d smiled at the scents of sand and sunscreen, at the taste of his breath, how his hands were nearly impatient as he explored her for the first time.
Her eyes cleared, her body warmed by the memories.
“Some desserts you just have to eat for yourself,” Elizabeth finally said. “Do you want half my sandwich?”
She looked at Elizabeth and said, “What kind?”
“Vegetarian.”
“Okay, I guess,” she said. “I’m starving.”
“Let’s go grab a seat and eat together. I can eat with Sebastian later. Besides, he’s got more work to do, and I want to get to know you.”
As they sat on the beach shoulder to shoulder with their pants cuffed up over their ankles, their toes dug in the sand talking and eating, Elizabeth found she was starting to like the girl. There was something about her that was pretentious, but only because she was lost and didn’t want to show how vulnerable she was.
Corrine knew she made a mistake cheating on Sebastian. She knew she’d lost him after that. She was also a bit star struck being out here with her favorite author, even though for a moment or two as they were talking, Corrine also found herself getting pissed off that Elizabeth had not only stolen her man, she’d outdone her in bed.
When they were done eating, Corrine and said, “I appreciate you trying to hook me up with someone new, but I can get my own guy.”
“I know you can.”
“I just wish I wouldn’t have done what I did.”
Looking at her, feeling Corrine’s emotions like they were her own, Elizabeth felt an incredible sadness. For a second there she almost felt bad for taking Sebastian. But then she remembered that Corrine brought this on herself.
“I understand I’m the last person you’d ever want to be friends with, or confide in, or even hang out with,” Elizabeth said, “but if you ever feel like you want to not be enemies, maybe we could hang out. Girls only, no boy talk—that sort of thing.”
Corrine turned and looked at her a long time, and then she looked away. She started nodding slowly, like she was trying on the idea and not hating the absolute shit out of it just yet. When she laid her eyes back on Elizabeth, there was a surrender in Corrine’s expression, a non-verbal proclamation, the look that said she knew she’d been beaten, that she knew she couldn’t win this war.
It doesn’t have to be a war…
“I don’t need your pity,” Corrine said, “but I also know I brought this on myself. I’m going to be the big girl here and apologize for being rude to you.”
“You broke his heart, Corrine.”
She looked down, ashamed. Elizabeth sensed her pulling away, so she leaned against her shoulder, slid an arm around her and pulled her close. A tear dripped from her eye. She wiped it, but it was too late. They’d already started up again. Within seconds, she began to fall apart under the weight of her sadness.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Elizabeth said softly.
“I still love him,” she said, wiping her eyes. She reached up, took Elizabeth’s hand and said, “but I suppose that doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Honey, I’m the queen of having to live with bad, painful decisions.”
Looking up, her eyes wet, red and desperate, she said, “Does it ever get any easier?”
“For me, no I’m afraid not. But for you? I’d say yes.”
Elizabeth reached out and wiped a tear from her cheek and said, “You really are so beautiful. Be kind to yourself. It’ll be okay.”
“Even though I hate you,” she said, “I’m glad we did this.”
“Enough to do it again?” she asked.
“Probably not,” she admitted. And then she finished her chips, letting her eyes dry as she stared out to sea and contemplated the next moves in her life.
Chapter Ten
The flight from Texas back to California is largely uneventful. The Sprite is fresh though, the toffee peanuts not so bad, my seat mate completely into his own digital world. I want to go home and crawl into my own bed more than I want my next breath, but I have things to do. There’s an immortal sadist to confront, a psycho child to keep calm and a miracle infant to kidnap.
The drive to Holland’s San Francisco apartment comes quick. The last time I ran a kidnapping mission in San Francisco, it didn’t go so well. Rather it had a bumpy start, a violent middle and a happy ending. Rebecca is now my sister. A part of my family.
But would there be a happy ending this time? As I pull up to his place, find a parking spot and then head inside his building and upstairs, I’m praying for the best.
I knock and Alice Jr. opens the door.
“What?” she says.
“Move,” I say, breezing past her.
“You can’t just come inside,” Alice says, catching up with me.
“Where’s Holland?”
“Bathroom.”
I pick up Skye and say, “Where’s her diaper bag and formula?”
Alice points to the kitchen table. I head over there, gather it up in my arms and say, “Do you have a diaper bag?”
Alice just looks at me, her black hair hanging over an eye, her white dress dirty, the toenails on her little feet unclipped for far too long.
“You forget how to speak?” I ask.
“What are you doing?” Veneshia asks. She’s Holland’s African American assistant, a girl who works with Holland, but works under Quentin Russell, formerly Tate Russell of Monarch Enterprises—a man who ordered a hit on me when I was Savannah version 2.0.
“I
’m taking her to her mother,” I say.
“Best hurry while Holland’s…indisposed,” she says quietly, like she’s all for the idea.
“I need a diaper bag, or something to carry all this crap.”
She hurries in the kitchen, grabs a few paper grocery bags and starts stuffing everything in there. Meanwhile I’m ordering up an Uber, hoping my ride will get here soon enough but not too soon.
“What the hell are you doing?” Holland’s voice booms.
“Taking Skye to Rebecca,” I answer, looking up.
“The hell you are,” he says, moving fast toward me. Instinctively my shields arise making an invisible wall between us. He hits the wall like he’s slamming into a glass door. “Are you kidding me?!” he asks, looking up and down to try to figure out what he just ran in to.
“She’s not your baby. Heim is gone and you aren’t running a baby factory where deliveries come at fast food speed.”
“You are a peasant trying to tell a king his place,” Holland roars.
“Really?” I ask, my temper taking hold. I drop the wall between us and walk toward him with Skye like I’m going to eat his heart.
He steps back, startled.
“You are NOT a king anymore, Holland! You’re the help.”
I feel my guts starting to heat and I look at Alice Jr. Her hands—held low with her palms out and clawed with heat—she sees my eyes zeroed in on the eye not hidden behind her hair and her hands relax.
“Good dog,” I say.
She frowns.
How the hell will we ever become civil if the future is still a mystery I have not solved?
“I’m taking Skye because she’s critical to our future. She can’t be here, being raised by people who view her more as an experiment than a child.”
“You’re taking away a livelihood that will support millions,” Holland growls.
“Oh are you an employer now?” I ask.
“YOU ARE OVERSIGHT!” he all but screams, his face red, his chest puffed up, his hands made into fists at his side.
“I’m oversight on your life in case you haven’t figured it out,” I say, calm as a Hindu cow.
