by Alexa Reign
But dreams come slow and they go so fast.
You see her when you close your eyes,
Maybe one day you'll understand why,
Everything you touch surely dies...”
I threw the football in the air and caught it over my chest repeatedly, staring up at the ceiling. The shadows of the tree branches looked like a witch's gnarled fingers. Every few minutes or so, a gust of wind swept past, and the branches tapped on my window, like the tree wanted to be let in.
“What – what time is it?”
Next to me, Victoria sat up drowsily, pushing her hair out of her face.
“It's almost 11.”
“11?” She gasped, peeling the hair off her mouth. “Already? So much for my 10 minute power nap. Why didn't you wake me?”
“You were snoring pretty loud, so I figured you were tired.”
“Oh.” She sat on her crossed legs and bit her lip, pink crawling across her cheeks. “Yeah, I am feeling pretty burnt out.”
“Why don't you close your eyes for another 15? I'll wake you.”
“No, I'm good – my body clock's already out of whack.”
Victoria scooched a little closer to me. The soft toes of her woolen socks tickled my elbow. As she peered out the window, pulling her long white cardigan close, I stopped fiddling with the ball and threw it aside.
“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you or Cailie involved in any of this.”
“I know.” Victoria grabbed a pillow from behind her, wrapping her arms around it. “Thank God for Mrs. Tuttle – if she hadn't called the cops when she heard those gunshots, I don't know what I'd have...”
Her voice tapered off.
“But Cailie's gonna be okay. And that's all that matters.”
“Yeah.” My gut cramped with another wave of guilt. “Again, uh, I'd be more than happy to pay for the damages –”
“There's no need. My grandparents have insurance up the ass.”
“Right. Okay. Well, uh, if they change their mind.”
“It was nice of you to stop by at the hospital to check in on Cailie. And it was really cool of you to get Flick of a Pitch to come by her room for a private show. You should've seen the look on her face. How'd you know that's her favorite acapella group of all time?”
“Don't know. You must've mentioned it in passing. It just stuck with me.”
“Huh.” Victoria nodded, swallowing her lips. “Well, thanks. That was really thoughtful.”
“Okay.”
There was another break of heavyhearted silence.
“How could I let myself fall for any of that shit?” I clasped my hands over my forehead, sliding them over my eyes. “I guess I've known it all along. I've seen the body. Saw them stick her 6 feet under. I shoveled the dirt over her casket. And I still tried to convince myself –”
I choked back the rest of my words.
“Anyone would have done the same.” Victoria wound her pinkie around mine, squeezing. “You can't keep blaming yourself for your feelings – especially what comes so natural –”
“Save the speech – I get it,” I muttered, staring at the spasms of light behind my eyelids. “It's the 21st century, men can be sensitive, whatever.”
“Yeah, and men don't need to be assholes, either,” said Victoria darkly, her pinkie loosening around my finger.
“Sorry.” I lowered my arm and opened my eyes, sighing.
“Take it slow. It's okay not to have all the answers right now – maybe a reason, even.”
“Right.”
“I've been meaning to ask – why was Cailie, or I – targeted, anyway? What did I have to do with any of this?”
“Nol – I mean – Terrence, was doing his research this one time we hung out. Asked if I was seeing anyone and I said no, but he kept hassling me, asking if there was someone special, and your name might've come up –”
“You what?”
“Yeah. Again, I'm sorry –”
Victoria leaned over and kissed me gingerly, her silky dark waves falling against the sides of my face. I closed my eyes. Her plump lips felt so supple and moist against my mouth. But as I stayed still, just soaking in the warmth of her mouth, she pulled away from me. Our lips disconnected with a soft pop.
She snapped upright and started to stumble over an apology. But as she turned away from me, I sat up and pulled her right back to me. I kissed her hungrily, slipping my tongue into her hot mouth and running my hands through her hair.
The breaths of her sultry moans brushed against my ear, making me harden. She grinded her crotch against my knee, nibbling my teeth between sucks as she pulled my shirt over my head. I could feel the toasty warmth radiating from her cunt through my jeans. My cock throbbed, aching for that warmth.
I snaked a hand into the waistband of her tights and cupped my hand around her cunt. Gasping, Victoria grabbed onto my shoulders for support. The sides of her cardigan drooped over her shoulders, revealing her skintight gray top and the sliver of sweat hiking up her cleavage. I rubbed up and down her leg, examining her. Like I'd suspected, my palm glided easily over the filmy crotch of her panties.
As the playlist switched to the next track, I found the nubbin through the wet fabric of her panties and started rubbing. She squeezed my shoulders, the line of sweat on her jiggling cleavage gradually expanding. I could almost hear the juices leaking out of her.
“Have you got color in your cheeks?
Do you ever get that fear that you can't
Shift the type that sticks around like summat in your teeth.
Are there some aces up your sleeve?
Have you no idea that you're in deep?”
I pushed her panties aside and ran my finger up and down her hot, sticky lips. Her nails scraped against my back. She arched back her head and pushed herself onto my fingers. I barely had to do any work as she rode my fingers, all the while pulling her top over her head and unhooking her bra.
Her round, glistening tits sprang into view. I pulled my fingers out of her slowly, watching as she furrowed her brows and parted her lips. But the disappointment unfurling across her face didn't last long. I stripped off my jeans and kicked them aside. I caught her eyeing my unearthed cock, her eyes narrowed lustfully and her breaths growing jagged with desire. Even in the dark of the room, I could see her small rose-pink nipples swelling, longing to be touched.
I swabbed my tongue against my musky fingers. She had this distinctive taste to her, a blend of salt and some kind of tangy sweetness. Fuck, I needed more. I dipped my finger into her tight slit once more and rewarded myself, sucking my finger and savoring every drop.
“Ever since that night at Oneiro, you have no fucking idea...”
Victoria cocked her head to one side and latched onto my cock, handling me with both hands. I groaned, my jaw clenching as she toyed with me. It felt so good, and for a second, self-reproach washed over me. These weren't Brooklyn's hands, but as unnatural as they felt, I didn't want her to stop.
“How long I've wanted you...”
I stretched my arms out behind me. She climbed on top of me, wrapping her legs delicately around my waist. As she moved on top of me, her soft tits grazed my face, her nipple tracing down the tip of my nose. I stuck out my tongue, flicking it against her nipple. And when I saw the racy little smile playing on her lips, I knew it was intentional.
“How long I've wanted you to touch me...”
Still hovering over me, she took my hands and guided them over her tits. I gazed into the deep greens of her eyes, massaging the handfuls of her tits in slow, sensual circles. As her pert nipples grew even stiffer against my palm, she sighed softly, the point of her tongue slipping out from the side of her mouth. I leaned in and caught her tongue between my lips, gently squeezing her nipples in the spaces of my fingers.
“How long I've wanted you to fuck me...”
With her arms around my neck and her sweet lips still pressed up against mine, she slid down on my cock. I slid my arms around her waist and f
astened my legs around her to keep her from sliding off me. I rocked my hips against her, my shaft pulsing inside of her.
She was so fucking tight. I could feel myself squeezing in and out of her cunt, practically tearing her apart, but she loved every second of it. She grabbed the sides of my face with both hands and kissed me, easing herself up and down on me.
It wasn't long before she had to break away from me. Her head rolled back and her eyes fluttered shut, the erotic music of her ecstasy pouring out of her slacked lips. She continued to ride me, her soft, sticky tits bouncing rhythmically against my sweaty chest. I could feel myself slowly building up as she grinded against me. As she leaned forward, smothering her moans on my neck, I felt her sliding her palm under my balls. Her warm fingertips found the skin between my balls and asshole, slowly kneading the spot.
“Ah, fuck – I'm gonna –”
I slid out of her and reached out to grab a towel, but she reeled me back in. She propped herself up on all fours and wrapped her lips around my cock. My shoulders hunched as I palmed the back of her head instinctively, emptying my hot load into her mouth.
As the last drop dribbled onto her tongue, I opened my eyes just in time to see the powdery white fluff falling from the coal-black sky.
Chapter Three: Victoria
“Knock, knock.”
I slipped into the private room, a basket of assorted muffins and treacle brownies hanging on my arm.
“Hey, Victoria!”
Cailie was resting against the elevated back of the hospital bed, her face brightening as I entered the room. She looked much too small for the frumpy cotton-blue hospital gown. I set the basket down on the overbed table and pecked her on the forehead.
“How are you feeling?”
“My wrist is still a little sore from landing on it at a weird angle, but other than that, I think I'm okay. Really.” Cailie wheeled the overbed table aside and kicked her legs out over the bed. “I'm not even supposed to be here – the doctors said there was nothing physically wrong with me, but Grandma and Grandpa made this huge fuss and insisted they keep me here over the weekend. The doctors did recommend that I undergo a couple of weeks of mandatory therapy to help with the emotional trauma, or whatever, though. And you know what? The more I think about it, the more I'm seriously looking forward to the therapy sessions, but not for the reasons they think.”
“What do you mean?” I sat down next to her and plucked a brownie from the basket. “Where is everyone?”
“Exactly.” She ripped off the saran wrap on the brownie and bit off a huge chunk, chewing vindictively. “Nurse Betty came in twice with the discharge papers, but Grandma and Grandpa are late, as usual. They're out having drinks with this journalist named Tom Bradford, who's trying to get an interview with me. Not that they've asked me if I was okay with it or anything, but what am I gonna do, right? But thanks for bringing me the treats. This brownie is bomb.”
“Send them a message and tell them to take their time. I'll sign the papers and give you a ride home.” My heart stung at the dismal look in her summery-blue eyes. “And hey. Maybe you and Grandma can come to a compromise – you'll do the interview, but on your terms. It's your platform, so you talk about whatever you wanna talk about, and if you're not completely comfortable, just pass on the question –”
“Ooh, I get it.” Cailie grinned, nodding excitedly. “Ruin the interview with a bunch of irrelevant nonsense so they can't use any of the material!”
“Um, those weren't my exact words, but –”
“You're a genius, Victoria!” said Cailie, shimmying her shoulders.
“Well, I'm not gonna argue with that.” I winked at her. “So, where's your sister?”
“Don't know, and don't care,” Cailie muttered bitterly. Her forehead puckered as she threw the balled up wrapper into the trash. She hopped off the bed and untied the back of her gown. “Didn't you see her at home?”
“I haven't been home all night. Did something –”
“Rosaline can be such a mega-bitch sometimes. I don't know what's up with her,” Cailie ranted, forcefully ramming her head through the turtleneck of her emerald sweater. “I didn't ask her to come see me, so I don't know why she did, anyway. As soon as she walked through those doors, she was just being so mean, like she was obligated to be here.”
“I wouldn't take it too personally. Maybe she was just having a bad –”
“I hadn't even had a chance to open my mouth and say 'hi' yet, but she was already bitching about her 'irreplaceable' torchère – I bet she's shed more tears for that stupid thing than she did for me. I mean – who does that?”
The hurt in Cailie's voice was palpable. She fumbled with the buttons of her shorts absentmindedly and turned away from me, but I caught the glister of the tear tracks running down her cheeks. A single tear drop stopped on the gold hoop between her nostrils, quivering with her nose. I folded my hands and laid them on my lap, my heart heavy with sympathy.
“Rosaline's always hated me.” She sniffed, wiping at her face angrily. “I don't know why, but spending time with me just seems to be so excruciatingly painful for her. I mean, I know I give her a hard time sometimes, like she does with me, but I thought that's what sisters do, you know? But lately, I've realized that she just flat-out hates everything about me –”
“Cailie, you know that's not true –”
“Yes it is.”
Cailie snatched up the goody basket and the suitcase Grandma's maids had packed for her. She was clearly done talking about it. Sighing, I stood up and took the suitcase from her.
“You ready to roll?”
“Yup.”
XXX
I hung up my purse on the back of the front door and unbuckled the T-straps of my leather flats.
“Rosaline, you ho –”
Before I could finish, I noticed the fugly ostrich-skin purse neglected in the middle of the living room floor.
Rosaline had left a literal trail of clues. A few feet away from her discarded purse were her matching ostrich boots, sitting in the path of the bedroom hallway. At the far end of the hall, the door to her bedroom was slightly open, filling the apartment with the stray beats of her kitschy K-pop music.
I stepped over the boots and headed straight to her room to give her a piece of my mind. But as soon as I got to the crack of her door, I skidded to a stop. I peered into Rosaline's room, my chest deflating.
Rosaline was curled up in a ball on the edge of her bed. She was facing away from me, but I could see her face on her vanity mirror, clear as day. Her ordinarily flawless makeup was a runny mess, blotched by the tears pouring down her face. In her arms, she clutched Cailie's giraffe plushie. She wept openly into the imperfect honeycombs of the giraffe's faded fur, her sobs lost in the blare of the music.
I stepped back and twisted the doorknob, closing the door slowly.
Chapter Four: Ace
I screwed the faucet shut and glanced up at my reflection. Water teemed down my face, collecting around the fuzz on my jawline. My eyes were dull and my face was starting to turn ashy-gray from the lack of sleep. I'd somehow missed the dark spot on my wrinkled collar and the 2 missing buttons on my dress shirt.
The longer I gazed back at my reflection on the mirror, I was overcome by a disconcerting case of déjà vu. My grip hardened around the edge of the counter. Just when everything was starting to play out, here I was again.
I'd staggered into work hungover and at least 40 minutes late every day last week. Victoria's routine morning calls weren't much help, either. I slept right through the 15 minutes she spent each morning blowing up my phone and banging on my door before she eventually gave up and rode off to work on her own.
Logically speaking, things were turning around. Buster had been arrested, with the prosecution looking to hit him with life without possibility of parole. Rumor has it that Dubois cut off his ties with his son and moved down to Colorado, shacking up in a secluded cabin by Lake Granby. He removed all his lawyers fro
m Xavier's appeals and assigned them to Terrence instead, where they were in the process of working out a plea deal for his cooperation. Last, and definitely least, Xavier's sentence had been extended to life and his ass thrown in solitary.
Granted, solitary confinement was way too good for what that son of a bitch deserved. And so, to remedy that injustice, I used what I would've coughed up to Buster to hire a couple of guards and shank-happy lifers to pay the motherfucker a quick visit in the shower. That wasn't particularly hard to accomplish, either – as expected, Xavier was as much a POS as he was outside of prison, attracting over a dozen inmates to the offer.
And even with all that, this hollow, gnawing feeling in my chest just kept eating at me.
I turned on the faucet again and leaned in, sticking my open mouth under the rush of water. As I gargled my cotton mouth, I looked up at the mirror, noticing one of the set designers behind me. He stood in front of the last urinal on the right, glancing over his shoulder over and over again.
“Yo – something I can help you with?”
“Nah, dude. Sorry.”
He shook himself off, zipped up, and scrambled out the door, his ratty ponytail swinging behind him.
Grunting, I dried my face off with some paper towels and trudged out the door, only to be ambushed by another crew member.
“Mr. Warner?”
“What?”
“HR wants to see you – Finley says it's urgent.”
“Right,” I mumbled, walking away from him. “Thanks.”
I dragged my feet all the way to the HR Department, knocking on the glass door warily.
“Come in.”
I entered Mrs. Finley's office. The owl-faced woman sat behind her buffed oak-wood table. She adjusted her thick red glasses on the bridge of her nose and flourished a hand at the armchair in front of her.
“Have a seat, Mr. Warner.”
“Alright.” I pulled up the chair. “What can I do for you today, Mrs. Finley?”
“A more appropriate question would be what we at ASBC can do for you.” Her bright red-orange lips spread into one of those curled-lip corporate smiles. “How are you doing, Mr. Warner?”
