Can't Fix Cupid

by Raven Kennedy

  I realize then that Trix didn’t tell her about my medical condition. She probably hasn’t told anyone my secret. I don’t know whether it’s because she’s trying to protect me or not, but regardless of her reasoning, I’m grateful.

  “I wish I hadn’t,” I confess. “If I could go back—”

  Blue cuts me off. “Spare me the line. Fuck going back. How about you man up and go fucking forward?” she demands. “That’s what she deserves. Nothing less.”

  “On that, we can agree.”

  She stares at me, her brown eyes filled with contempt as she takes my measure. She shakes her head, obviously finding me lacking. “You know, for a second there, I thought you were really good for her. And I know she was good for your stupid ass. But then you had to go and ruin it.”

  I say nothing. What’s the point? She’s right.

  “You fucked up this time, Knight. And you’re going to regret it. That’s the only reason I’m not kicking you in the balls right now. That regret is gonna hurt far worse than any hit I could deliver.”

  She turns and walks away, not sparing me a second glance. My eyes fall away from her retreating figure before I open my car door and slide inside. As soon as the door closes behind me, my driver takes off, and once more, I bring up my thumb to brush against my scar.

  Blue doesn’t have to worry about whether or not I’ll suffer with regret. I already do. And she’s right. It fucking hurts.

  Once I get home, I work for several more hours.

  Work, work, work.

  That’s what my life consists of. It’s a constant routine. One I can control. A needed distraction.

  By the time I look over at the clock, I see that it’s two o’clock in the morning, so I force myself to close my laptop. I rub my burning eyes before getting up and heading to the backyard for some fresh air. I walk past my pool and find myself going down the hill to the beach.

  I stand at the shoreline, hearing the echoes of her sobs in the wind. Envisioning how her tears glittered as they tracked down her cheeks. She looked distressed and somber, and so goddamn beautiful that all I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and soothe her back to smiles.

  I’ve come here and done this very same ritual every damn night. I don’t know why I continue to torture myself by replaying our fight. Maybe it’s because I know I deserve it. I deserve this awful feeling in my chest.

  My only hope is that she moves on. I hope she finds someone who will love and cherish her the way she deserves. And he damn well better appreciate the color she’ll bring to his life and adore her for who she is.

  By the time I drag my weary feet back up the steep steps of the hill, I’m so exhausted that dizziness spins my head. I really should’ve gone to sleep like Harvey suggested.

  It’s not until I feel my defibrillator kick in to correct my heart’s erratic beating that I realize I won’t be making it up the rest of the steps.

  A surprised puff of air leaves my lungs just as I fall hard to my knees and start rolling all the way back down the hill.

  My head smacks hard against a piece of driftwood as I land on the ground, and I stare up at the night sky unblinkingly, grimacing at the poetic justice of it all.

  It seems fitting that my heart would give out right here, in the spot where Trix tried to give me hers.

  The last thing I see in my mind is Trix’s face. The last thing I feel is pain stabbing into my chest. The last thing I hear is the waves rushing up the shore, like they want to wash me away. The last thing I say as my heart gives out is one final truth. “I love you too.”

  And then, there’s nothing.

  Chapter 33

  Trix

  I’m going to get popped like a damn pimple.

  I haven’t been able to use my powers for three weeks. Three godsdamned weeks of my cupidity totally shitting on me.

  Maybe it’s because my heart isn’t in it. I don’t know.

  Every time I try, I either get a putrid exhale that does fuck-all, or my Lust somehow turns to a serious dose of loathing instead.

  I’m pathetic.

  I’m heartbroken.

  And my time is running out.

  Warren won’t love me back, and my powers refuse to work. Maybe the Veil should take me out.

  What good am I? I can’t fulfill my purpose. The man I love doesn’t want me. So I’m not sure what the fricken point is anymore. Why did I go through all of this to just end up erased from existence?

  Fate is an even bigger bitch than those karma cunts.

  I’m lying in the nudist colony’s meditation retreat. It’s really just a fancy name for a repurposed garden shed. It’s only about four feet by four feet, but it’s set apart from the houses, near the colony’s vegetable garden, and it’s usually empty, so I’ve been coming in here to be alone.

  Funny how I keep seeking separation when all my heart wants is to be with someone. A very particular someone. A someone who doesn’t want to be with me.

  Fuck. Fate.

  I sigh, squirming on the pillows on the floor and breathing in the burning incense as I look up through the makeshift skylight. When I feel tears hitting my cheeks, I brush them away angrily. You’d think after three weeks, I’d be done crying, but apparently, this particularly physical gesture can linger forever.

  It comes on suddenly, too. One second I can be sitting there, and the next, I’ll see something that reminds me of Warren, and I’ll start bawling like a baby.

  Heartache fricken sucks.

  The door to the meditation retreat suddenly opens, causing my legs to fall down, since my feet were propped up on it.

  I look up at Hum Judy, and when her eyes land on me, her lips purse. She comes inside, knocking my legs aside so that she can tug the door closed behind her. Then she sits down across from me, spreading her legs out beside mine.

  “You have tissues stuffed up your nostrils,” she points out unhelpfully.

  “This is more efficient,” I say, pointing at my nose. “The tissues catch my snot every time I cry, so I don’t have to keep blowing it. My nose was getting chafed.”

  Hum Judy does not look impressed with my ingenuity. “You gonna wear that thing every day?”

  I look down at Warren’s suit jacket that’s wrapped around me. I know, I know. I’m pathetic. But it still smells like him, and I miss him, dammit.

  “I was thinking about it, yeah,” I answer honestly.

  She straightens her long skirt that she opted to wear today around her ankles before leveling me with a look. “Your aura is sick.”

  I blink at her and then tug out the tissues from my nose so that I can talk to her without it sounding like I’ve sucked on helium. “Why do you say that?” I ask.

  Hum Judy’s bright eyes travel over me. “When I first met you, it shone like a million prisms. So many colors. So much reach,” she says with a flourish, causing her bracelets to jingle on her wrist. “And you got brighter and brighter every day. Until…” she trails off at my flinch, and she gives me a look of understanding. “These past few weeks, you’ve been waning. I can barely see it anymore,” she finishes sadly.

  I swallow around a dry, rough tongue and pick at the fabric of my jeans. “Yeah. I’m kind of...broken. In more ways than one,” I confess quietly.

  Hum Judy shakes her head, causing her puffy gray hair to shake with it, the feathers and beads getting tangled in the strands. “You’re not broken, girl. You just lost your thrive.”

  I tilt my head and dry my eyes. “My thrive?”

  Hum Judy nods. “It happens. And it can be different for everyone. For me, my thrive is this place,” she confesses, waving a hand towards the door. “It’s Hale and Rob. It’s this community I live in. But for some people, it could be their children. Their pets. Their jobs. It could be something as simple as reading or singing or painting. It could be a person. A place. It could be a feeling. We all have a thrive. And when we have it...life is good. We shine. We feel full. But when we lose it…”

  Emotio
n coats my lashes. “We dim.”

  She nods slowly, her eyes never leaving my face. “Go find your thrive, girl.” I watch her as she stands up, her knees popping as she straightens. “These old bones aren’t what they used to be,” she says with a smile. “Life goes by too fast, you know?”

  Yeah. I know.

  After Hum Judy leaves me, I peel myself off the floor and go back to Blue and Bea’s house. I trudge inside the bathroom and shower, letting the cool water ease my puffy eyes. When I come back out, dressed in some jeans and a t-shirt, Bea and Blue peer over at me from the loft railing, looking surprised to see me showered.

  “How you doing, Trix?” Blue calls down.

  I feel guilty and embarrassed for making her worry about me lately, so I try to plaster on a smile. “I’m good. Great. Two thumbs up,” I lie, popping both thumbs up to help sell it.

  She just continues to look at me. Okay, so I guess I didn’t sell it.

  “I’m going to head out for a little while.”

  Blue and Bea share a look. Probably speaking telepathically with their twin powers or something, because then they both look back at me at the same time and nod. “Okay. Be careful. Let us know if you need anything,” they say at the same time.

  Wow. Impressive.

  “Will do,” I wave.

  I carry Warren’s suit jacket with me as I head outdoors and down artist row. I spot just the man I’m looking for: Frank Sinatra.

  The sculpture made up of recycled goods is finally complete, looking debonair as hell. But when I slip Warren’s suit jacket over it, it looks—

  “Perfect!”

  I whirl around to see Hank—the artist—with his schlong swinging free and a wrench tucked behind his ear. “See? What’d I tell ya? Frank looks damn good in that jacket,” he says.

  I nod, forcing myself to let go and step away from it. “He does.”

  I walk away before I can give myself a chance to steal it back and sniff it again, because I refuse to be that pitiful.

  Hum Judy wants me to find my thrive, but I know exactly where it is. The problem is, one of my thrives doesn’t want me, and the other one just doesn’t fricken work. How’s that for luck?

  Defeated, I trudge down the pathway, spotting a group of nudies participating in a body painting activity. It must be Friday.

  I walk over to their spot on the tarp that they laid down over the sand. They’re not too far away from the music circle, so there’s a constant chorus of out-of-sync chanting and plucked guitar strings.

  The nudies are happily painting one another, covering their skin with bright colors. One dude’s dick is painted like a measuring tape. I’m no mathematician, but I’m certain those measurements are a tad over-generous.

  As I’m passing by them, I pretend to cough while pushing a little Lust out of me, just to see if it’ll work.

  Neon green grossness permeates the air. The power seriously backfired, so it’s like I just rained on their nudist paint parade, because they start moping around. One guy even starts crying, for cupid’s sake.

  “Worthless fucking thrives,” I mumble as I continue to walk. So much for being this community’s spirit love guide. Good thing I had casino money to donate to the communal funds.

  Stupid Warren Knight had to go and ruin everything. I’m so mad at him. I’m mad at his stupid heart. I’m mad at myself that I can’t do anything about it.

  No wonder he’s been such an asshole. Now all those botched dates make sense. He started giving up. He was just going through the motions.

  I veer off the path, deciding to shove out some of my frustrations with a rousing game of shuffleboard, but Blue comes running up behind me, grabbing me by the arm.

  One look at her face lets me know that something’s wrong. “What happened? Did Bea get burned in the house or something?” I quickly ask. “I told you, you guys shouldn’t be soldering naked in the loft.”

  Blue shakes her head, trying to calm her breathing since she must’ve run all the way over here. “Trix, Harvey just called.”

  My eyes run over her face pinched with concern. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Warren.”

  Her answer plays on repeat in my head.

  It’s Warren, it’s Warren, it’s Warren.

  “What happened?”

  Blue starts tugging me towards the parking lot, and I follow numbly. “He collapsed. Someone found him this morning. He’s in the hospital, but they don’t think…” Her voice veers off the trail and falls right over a cliff. And my heart goes right along with it.

  He’s dying. Warren Knight, my thrive, is dying. And there’s nothing I can do about it.

  Chapter 34

  Trix

  When we get to the hospital, I’m surprised to see reporters hanging around outside with a few security guards wearing their Knight Enterprises logo. The only way we make it past the reception area is because Harvey is there waiting for us, and he put our names on the approved visitors’ list.

  One of the reporters recognizes me from the CupidShuffle ads and tries to get my attention, but I ignore him as I walk with Blue and Harvey to the elevators.

  “How is he?” I ask nervously as Harvey pushes the button on the elevator and we head up to ICU.

  Harvey’s face looks grim and his eyes tired. “He collapsed and suffered a seizure. It’s… I won’t lie to you, Trix. It’s not good.”

  Fear and despair yank at me, pulling me tight.

  Blue whistles under her breath and shakes her head. “Damn. Now I feel bad for punching the jackass.”

  Startled, I look up at her. “You punched him?”

  Blue nods a little bit sheepishly. “Yeah. If I’d known he had a heart condition, I wouldn’t have hit him so hard.”

  Harvey looks at her incredulously. “But you still would’ve hit him?” he asks.

  She shrugs. “Well, yeah. He was a dick to Trix.”

  I nudge her arm as a little thanks, because when your friend will go out of her way to a punch a dude in the face for you, that’s next-level friendship stuff right there.

  When we make it up to ICU, one of the nurses informs us that only one of us can visit at a time, so Harvey and Blue stay back in the waiting room so I can go first.

  “Here’s his room, honey,” the nurse says as she leads me to his door before turning and bustling away.

  Hesitantly, I open the door and slip inside, letting it shut behind me. I look around, surprised. Leave it to Warren Knight to have a swanky hospital room.

  No standard hospital bed here. This thing looks like it’s from the Ritz. There are almost half a dozen flower arrangements scattered around the room, and a huge flat screen plays sports replays. There’s a sitting area for visitors, a mini fridge, and even a window seat that I suspect turns into a bed.

  But my eyes are riveted on Warren’s pale figure as he lies unconscious beneath white sheets.

  My feet are moving before my mind tells them to, and then I’m sitting on his bed beside him, studying his face.

  He looks…bad.

  Other than the times he’s been nude, Warren is either always in a suit or designer jeans. To see him wearing a hospital gown is just...wrong.

  He has a bandage wrapped around his head from where he must have fallen down, and his skin tone has taken on a sickly shade. His stubble is longer than he likes, and from beneath the bandage, I can see that his hair is slightly dirty and lacking its usual shine. Dark circles shade the skin beneath his eyes, and the monitor hooked up to him beeps erratically, setting my nerves on edge with every shrill pulse.

  Tentatively, I reach up and press my palm against his cheek. I let my thumb brush over his scratchy skin, the hairs scraping my fingertips.

  The last time I saw him, Warren had looked at me like he hated me. Like he regretted everything that had happened between us. Like he wanted to toss away my most cherished moments.

  “I’m so mad at you,” I whisper.

  He doesn’t move apart from breathing, a
nd even then he has oxygen tubes up his nose to help him.

  Speaking to him like this feels reminiscent of how I used to talk to him in the Veil. I used to confess all sorts of things to him back then. Every single day.

  I’d tell him about what I did or didn’t do that day. I’d tell him my worries, my hopes, my complaints and my joys. It’s like we’re already reverting to that old distance that used to be stuck between us, and I hate it.

  I want him to open his eyes and look at me with that softness that he reserved for just me. I want him to boss me around or surprise me by saying something sweet. I want him to wake up and for all of this to be a bad dream.

  I drag my hand down from his face to fidget with the fabric of his hospital gown. “You know, the first time I saw you, you had mustard on your collar.”

  I smile at the memory, despite the fact that tears keep filling my eyes.

  “There you were, in all your glory, walking towards your building. I didn’t know anything about you then, but I could tell you’d just come from a business lunch. Harvey was busy schmoozing your group of clients, while you just looked damn hot in your perfect suit with your perfect hair, glowering at everyone with your perfect face.”

  He’d stopped me right in my red-winged path that day. Warren always drew eyes no matter where he went, but it was beyond just his looks. He walked with dominating power. He had that magnetism about him that forced people to stop and pay attention.

  “I knew instantly that you were the type to always want things just so. And that damn mustard on your shirt? That was not acceptable to you. You kept touching it. Fidgeting over the spot where you knew it was. I could tell it was bugging the shit out of you,” I laugh lightly.

  I’d followed him into his office, all the way to the conference room where their group gathered, only to watch Warren excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

  “You stripped down and scrubbed that stain, cussing it out the entire time and just making it worse,” I say, my smile widening. “You were so adorably pissed. All over a tiny little spot. I knew right then that I wanted to bring you love. I wanted you to channel all that intensity and devotion into someone else, and in return, have her teach you that a mustard stain is no big deal. So really, all of this started because you just happened to be sloppy at lunchtime. Who knew a mustard stain could lead to all this?”