Thanks for fixing my car.
Don’t even think about it. It was your cut. Wanna go out for coffee?
Not the one downtown.
Okay. Want me to pick u up?
I’m at the diner.
Cool. I’m at The Grind. Be there in 5.
I sit and wait, scared of the dark and pissed I didn’t bring a change of clothes. Sigh.
✽✽✽
“I hate this place. There are so many sluts in here it’s not even funny,” Persephone complains for the millionth time since we got to the clinic an hour ago.
I roll my eyes for the 999,999th time. I zone out on the little TV in the corner, thinking about coffee with Ares. He looked all disheveled and soft and haggard. He scarfed down coffee shop food and coffee like he’d been lost in the woods for a week. His hands and arms were stained and splotched with paint and I got fluttery butterflies flip-flopping in my belly seeing paint under his fingernails. I kept thinking how amazing it is I’m having a clandestine affair with an artist who paints me naked.
Persephone made an appointment for me too because she didn’t want to look like the only whore in the office and I’m nervous. I don’t really feel like getting poked and prodded and naked in front of strangers right now. And I have this feeling in the back of my mind that everything, my whole life, is about to fall apart.
“Persephone?” the person calls from the doorway.
“Pray for me,” Persephone whispers as she goes.
I smile after her and say a quick prayer for her because I do know God is out there and does want to help.
“Annika?”
I look up, my stomach dropping with unease as I get up and follow the nurse.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Nikki
“What does their mother do, anyway?”
My mother has been mad-dogging Persephone and her mom the whole time we’ve been here. They’re sitting a couple of sections over. “She’s a photographer.” I clench my jaw a little tighter and adjust for the millionth time. We’re sitting on bleachers and I haven’t left her out of my sights for a second so my butt is completely numb and I have to pee.
“What, does she take pictures of cave drawings?”
I glare. “Mostly horses.”
I take a breath as the first group of dancers comes out and they’re babies, like three to six year olds with their black hair and dark eyes, filled with pride and importance. My eyes sting with tears as the drums start and they begin their dance. I hold my scarf up to my mouth so I can take a sob quietly without anyone seeing. There are older kids standing around the edges in what Ares told me they call regalia, not costumes, guiding the babies back when they need it. I try to blink the tears away but it’s so beautiful it stabs my heart.
“I should adopt an Indian baby and teach it to be Russian. What do you think, myshka?”
I shake my head.
I hate her.
“What’s wrong with you? Why are you crying?” She laughs. “Because of the children?”
I look away and wipe my eyes. I didn’t wear makeup. I probably look like shit. I’ve been so sick but I couldn’t stay away.
She looks at me. “Why?”
I shake my head, close to despair. I just want to immerse myself in this and cry at the beauty. I don’t want to think. I just want to listen to the music and watch and cry my heart out.
“Tell me why, Annika.” She pinches me hard in the ribs and I try to move away. “Tell me.”
“Leave me alone.”
“Their own mothers don’t even cry from looking at them. What’s the matter? You want one and the boy won’t give it to you? Or did he already give you one and he doesn’t want you?” She laughs at me and starts talking about Natalie again.
I fight tears and nausea during the whole performance and the next and the next, and bitter jealousy at the beautiful women that dance with their braids and their colorful scarves and shawls. Everything hurts; my hair to my fingers and toes. I’m jealous of their happiness and their bodies and their culture and their men and babies.
And now the men come out one by one.
This is Ares’ first year in the man group and he made all of his own stuff. When he invited me and my mom I was surprised. In all my years of knowing them they never invited me and I’ve never seen him dance even though I know he takes pride in it and has won a lot of the competitions.
I hear the crowd murmur and I see girls blush and giggle with their friends as Ares comes out. I’m crying again. I have to hold my breath and swallow my sobs because he doesn’t even look like himself. He looks like a bodice ripper romance novel cover except more authentic because he’s real.
“Look at all these women fawning over him. He has plenty to choose from. Why would he ever choose you? His mother wouldn’t let you have babies with him. She’ll let you have it and then take it from you and tell everyone you’re unfit to care for it.”
His body is beautiful and I can feel the drums in the core of my being and I want him, just like he is right now.
And it sucks he doesn’t want my babies, even though I never really thought about wanting them either.
“I’m going to tell his mother she should stop trying to get another child and worry about her own litter. All she’s doing is teasing you with her son.” She stands to go over there and I force her toward the exit, a scene being made around us. She insults me the whole way home and calls me a prostitute in Russian and Ukrainian and French and talks about my body and everything that’s wrong with me and what I deserve to have done to me at the hands of the men I couldn’t even satisfy as a whore.
I’m exhausted.
Ares texts me: Persephone’s going to invite you out to dinner with us and to stay over. Say no so I can get you.
Persephone texts me at the same time.
I’m hungry and I want to be safe and sound in their house away from my mother and what she can have done to me while I’m vulnerable.
Cool. I text back to Persephone.
Really? Ares texts and I ignore him. Whatever. He can be pissed.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Ares
“Ares!” My mom barges in and I sit, closing the drawer I was trying to get my weed out of and pull a pillow into my lap. She looks at me suspiciously. “What are you doing?”
“Nuhthin’. What’s up?” I ask, skin crawling with irritation.
“You’re looking suspicious.”
I stare at her. “Do you really want to know or are you just trying to make conversation?”
“Don’t be a smartass to me. What’s wrong with you?” She’s surprised.
My balls hurt, my heart hurts and my mother is not the person I want to see right now, that’s what’s wrong. I look into her eyes. “Do you need something?”
She frowns. “Would you pick Dexter up from school?”
“Yeah. Give me a minute and I’ll go.”
I can’t live at home anymore.
I need my own place.
I always feel so high and pure after dancing and I wanted to share that with Nikki. I’ve never shared it with anyone. I wanted to spend the night in the woods with her and surround myself with her and my world, to put my stick on her shoulder and take her into my tent. I know she’ll never just run away to Vegas with me but I wanted to at least marry her in spirit. I was raised with morality and I know sex without commitment is wrong and I don’t want to be wrong. And not having a place of my own fucked that up for me and now I’m pissed at everyone.
She walks away. “Marcus! You need to talk to your boy! He’s getting out of hand!” she calls through the house.
I open the drawer and look. I don’t even feel like smoking it anymore.
Ever.
I just want to go and do this thing in New York and then figure out everything else I need to do.
I pull a shirt and shoes on. I grab my keys and my old flannel jacket, slamming the door on the way out. The icy cold hits my hot face and I take a huge bre
ath of freezing air as my boots crunch through the slush. I sit behind the wheel and take another deep breath.
I pull out my phone and send Nikki a text.
What’s going on? Did I do something wrong? Do you hate me?
I drive to the school and park in the huge crowd of parents to wait. I hate schools and their stupid crowds and yuppy parents in their SUVs and Minivans.
I look at the phone and open her text.
What are you talking about? You’re the one who’s been pissed at me! Aren’t you the one not talking to me cuz I spent the night instead of going out with you?
I frown. Are you mad I got mad?
Hurt, maybe, because I’m doing the best I can with juggling everything.
I look across the kids coming out of the school. I can understand that. Do you have any ideas on how we can see each other?
I wait for Dexter and her text with my eyes closed, breathing in the frigid air.
I don’t know. I work all week. I can’t take any more days off. My boss threatened to give my hours to someone else. I want to see you though. It’s too cold to sleep in the woods and I want serious time together, not quick time in a car.
My body relaxes and my face feels better. I miss you.
Dexter jumps into the car. “Drive. There’s a girl trying to kiss me. Go!”
I grin. “Which one?”
“That one!” He points at a cute little girl with dark wavy hair.
“She’s cute. You don’t want her to kiss you?” I tease him, pulling away and driving.
“Yeah, but then she’ll be my girlfriend and I’ll have to buy her stuff.”
Hmm. “Is that what you have to do?”
“Yeah,” he says. He sits quietly for a second and now looks at me. “Have you ever had a girlfriend?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Nope.”
He frowns thoughtfully. “Do you like Nikki?”
I frown too. “Hmm.” What should I say? “Well, I shouldn’t like anybody because I’m going to be leaving soon and I don’t know if I’ll come back,” I explain, evading.
He nods. “I hope you come back. It feels like we’re all a family; you and Persephone and Nikki, and Natalie and Marc, and now me. I like it. It’s not going to be the same when you’re not here.”
I sigh. Way to make me feel like shit. I pull his head to me and hug him. “Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s gonna be weird for me too. I’ve never been away so long. I’ve never been away from my sister so long. It’s pretty scary.”
“Do you think I’ll be able to stay with Natalie and Marc forever?” he asks.
“Would you like to?”
“Yes. I never want to go back home. And I wish Nikki could stay with them forever too,” he says, staring at his hands. “My mom says mean things to her,” he whispers. “She doesn’t think I hear, but I do.” Dex peers out the window. “Mom stabbed Nikki with a huge knife the last time she did this. If I was Nikki, I’d run away.”
I was with Marc on a build out of state when that happened. I didn’t know about it until I came home after I fell off a beam and broke my collar bone. Persephone told me about it but I didn’t believe her. It sounded too crazy. “What do you think we should do to help her?” I ask, hoping the little kid has some insight or wisdom.
“I don’t know. It’s my fault. She has to keep me safe. Once I’m safe she’ll be free.”
I look at the little boy’s honest and open face. “We’ll figure it out,” I promise. “Don’t worry about it. Nikki’s going to get on her feet and she’ll be okay, especially since she doesn’t have to worry about you so much.” I pull his hair. “I won’t let anything bad happen to either of you, even if I’m not here, I promise. Okay?”
He nods, not looking entirely convinced.
“Hey,” I bark, “I mean it. I never break my word. You’re going to live through this and so is she. Do you trust me?”
He nods again, uncertainty changing into determination on his face.
“Good.” Determination is a good sign. I punch his leg and laugh as he cusses at me, rubbing the Charlie horse.
I drive the rest of the way home with a walking on sunshine smile. She said she misses me. She wants to see me. Fuck yes.
I park and the kid gets out of the car and runs into the house. I get out slower, pulling out my phone to read her text, walking slowly to the house.
I get off at 11:30 tonight. Maybe you can buy me a decaf.
I grin. Sounds good. I’ll see you then.
I hold myself back from doing cartwheels walking into the kitchen. Marc is standing there with an ever-present cup of coffee in his hand, watching me as I put my head in the freezer, grinning my fucking face off.
“For God’s sake, get a hold of yourself. You’re going to get everything in there pregnant with that face,” Marc tells me, feigning disgust. “You’re easier to read than a book on tape.”
I chuckle, my head in the freezer. It’s so hot in the house all the time. My mom and Persephone are always cold. I hate it. It’s stifling.
Ooh, a container of leftover lasagna.
I pull it out and put it in the microwave. Marc sits at the bar, drinking his coffee and looking at plans for what looks like an office building. I look at it from where I am.
“Remember that asshole contractor who got the bid on the Powell building?” he asks me, not looking up from the drawings.
Yes, I do.
“Well, he got another one of my buildings and is giving me a shit time.” He shakes his head. “I’m about to fire his ass and not let him put any more bids in for my work. He changes everything and doesn’t care how cutting corners affects the aesthetic design.” He blows out air and takes a sip of coffee, looking over his plans. Most everything is done on computer but when something is bothering him he takes a hard copy of the plan home.
It sucks I’ll be away and waste six months not working on my architecture degree and license. I can’t help doing art, but I want to be an architect.
“You know, Washington State has a good architecture program,” he comments, reading my thoughts. “But I guess Cornell is number one in the country. And Columbia is second,” he says, sounding downhearted.
I get my lasagna out and a fork and sit next to him. This whole thing sucks.
“Don’t get sauce on my prints.” He moves them closer to me so I can see, pointing out what’s troubling him.
✽✽✽
I just finished my last day of work. I’m all dressed and ready to get Nikki. It’s 10:55. I listen to the quiet noises the house makes. My sister’s TV is on in the next room which probably means she’s not here. My parents are in their room.
Dexter crashed out on my sofa watching TV. It’s nice seeing a kid passed out like that. I don’t know what to do with him though. Will he freak out if he wakes up alone?
I stand and text Nikki. What should I do with your brother? He fell asleep on my sofa.
I sit to wait for her reply, itching to leave.
Just leave the TV on and he’ll be out all night, she texts back.
I make my escape. I call on all my training to walk stealthily through the house and exit the kitchen door, locking it quietly behind me.
Chapter Thirty
Nikki
I was sitting on the trunk of my car when he pulled up and now I’m smiling and getting in. I’m so attracted to him. It’s like he’s putting off the right kind of pheromones.
“I’ve been seeing you dance over and over in my mind late at night,” I tell him. I’ve been dreaming of being with him for real, with no one else and nothing in my way from just giving in to the whole experience of love and being loved. Letting go of that tightness that takes over whenever I feel too much.
“In my mind, I’ve been dancing with you.”
When I came home from Persephone’s my room was torn apart. I locked my door and spent the rest of my day in there while my mom verbally assaulted me and broke things on the other side. It shouldn’t bother me.
I wish it didn’t.
I settle in to the car and start unbuttoning my uniform, taking it off to my lacy black bra.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what are you trying to do, make me wreck?” he asks, looking from the windshield to my boobs.
I grin and roll my eyes. “I hate wearing my uniform out. And I love seeing you all wigged out.” I laugh and pull out the shirt I brought.
“Don’t put your shirt on if I’m just going to take it off again,” he says, parking in a dark corner in the coffee shop parking lot. He pulls me to him and it’s like our bodies melt together. He pulls me onto his lap and I go weak from his lips on my lips and my cheeks and my neck, and his fingers, searching my body and tugging at my clothes. “Where the hell are the hooks?” he murmurs.
“It’s a frontsy,” I explain, breathless.
He undoes it, looking at me proudly and puts his warm hands on my breasts, closing his eyes and kissing his way down. He squirms in his seat, not knowing what to do with himself first.
I love it when he goes from sexy to squirmy. I’m so used to him being the cool kid. I unbutton and unzip him, smiling, and run my fingers over him. I love this. I love the sound of his breath in the quiet of the car. I love how our individual scents mingle and make a unique, intoxicating smell.
He pulls me closer. My undies rub against him and his eyes close again as he nuzzles my breasts.
This is exactly what I want. My body moves to him, trying to climax from his mouth on me.
He has such a sweet face, filled with reverence, as he pushes the crotch of my undies aside and pushes his fingers into me, moving in and out. His fingers brush my sensitive skin as I melt, moving to bite his ear and his throat while I grind on him as hard as I can. He moves and replaces his fingers with his dick and runs his hands up and down my back, down to my ass. I grip his hair and grind until I have my first non-manual orgasm and it feels like thunder and it burns my entire body from the center to the extremities and back while he comes too.
Oh my God.
I want to stay like this forever, warm in the wetness between us.
Chasing Stars Page 14
