The Scene (Dylan Hart Odyssey of the Occult Series)

by Gilmore, R. M.

  Model. I knew she had to be something like that.

  “Cyrus, my darling, where have you been?” said the girl in blue who had a very thick accent; if I had to guess, it sounded Russian. That may explain the cobalt blue eyes and coffee-black hair.

  “Business as usual, as you know, Dominika. I hear Malcolm has you 'featured' here and there, as well.” Cyrus sounded as though he was a bit intimidated by the girl in the blue dress.

  I was able to get a much better look at her face now that she was so easily distracted by Cyrus.

  It’s okay honey, he distracts me too.

  Her features were striking to say the least. Dark shadowy powder covered the lids of eyes that were surrounded by fans of thick black lashes. Not the natural look by any means. With heavy, dark eyeliner and deep blue and black shadow placed perfectly on the lid and around the eye, the colors became a part of her. The look made those startling eyes scream from beneath her heavy-lidded bedroom eyes. Her sweetly pouted lips were painted in a simple glossy-pink. Which, honesty, made them look more sensual than any macabre crimson lipstick could ever have done for them. Her dark hair, pulled tightly back away from her face, made her already sharp chin and high cheek bones even more predominant, yet still quite feminine. Her dark hair was pulled back tight into a twist with the ends all spiked out in a big fan - very trendy. I happened to notice, whilst staring intently at her, memorizing every detail, the way she was looking at Cyrus. The look was all about sex, nothing more. She wasn't in love with him, hell, she probably didn't even care for him that much. Everything she wanted lay nice and cozy in his designer jockeys. Maybe she'd already been there, done that, and was itching for some more; who knows. I realized at that moment, I had been so focused on Cyrus that I had kind of forgotten the goal of the evening.

  Snap out of it Dylan, come on now.

  “...and your escorts for the evening?” She motioned to Tatum and then me.

  Okay I think I missed something, I'll have to ask Tatum later.

  “Oh, my manners I'm sorry. This is Tatum Price.” I wasn’t aware we were on a last name basis, but he did ‘The Vanna’ for Tatum; she loved it and didn’t seem to notice his psychic slip. Dominika turned to Tatum then and gave Tatum the same between-the-sheets look she had given Cyrus.

  Damn, is this chick just down to fuck, or what?

  Dominika moved slowly toward Tatum, brought her hand up to touch Tatum's face, and gave it a soft caress. With her hand still touching one side of Tatum's face, she leaned in and kissed her on the other side. Normally it would have looked strange, but she pulled it off with supreme class and a splash of sexual heat.

  The girl in blue pulled back to stare Tatum in the face and without missing a beat Tatum said, “What? No tongue?”

  Dominika flashed a snide smirk in response and leaned in to give Tatum just what she asked for.

  The girl grabbed Tatum by the back of her head and planted one on her. It took Tatum by such surprise it made her arms kind of flail about trying to grab for help, I think. Dominika, however, was very soft and sensual with the whole thing. After a second or so, Tatum gave over to Dominika, and let the kiss just happen. I think she even kind of got into it. I just stood there with the look of pure shock plastered on my face. Cyrus was laughing; it sounded like it may have been his nervous laugh though. Many moments later, Dominika pulled back from Tatum's lipstick smudged lips. Once again, she gave that snide smirk but this time she added a light brow raise. She knew she was hot and she used it to her advantage. Tatum just stood there looking like she was coming out of a drug induced haze.

  “And this Rubenesque beauty?” Dominika turned then to me and spoke through her smirk. Her eyes shimmered in the light flashing a lime green when she turned to look at me instead of the blue they’d been.

  That’s a horse of a different color!

  “This is Dylan Hart.” Cyrus put his arm around my shoulder for a second, before letting his hand slowly glide down my back to rest in the crook just above my butt. But that didn't matter I was nothing but focused. R-i-i-ight.

  Dominika moved toward me as she had Tatum. But I, unlike my poor Tatum, had the heads-up to these shenanigans. So I did what I'm best at, I was blunt.

  “Sorry, I don't kiss on the first date,” I said as I stuck my hand out to shake.

  Her signature smirk faded as she stopped in front of me. I don't think she knew how to play this game. I had a feeling she was accustomed to folks simply fawning all over her because she is beautiful. I’m too much of an asshole to give in that easily to a pretty face. So I'm inconsistent. Sue me.

  “Well Cyrus, looks like you will be missing out tonight.” Dominika was snickering, and I think it was at me.

  Bitch. “I make few exceptions...but I do make them.” It was my turn to smirk, but mine was directed mostly at Cyrus. I said I would focus for the night. All bets were off once we were outside those double doors.

  Cyrus tightened his grip around my waist and got very still. I think he got the hint; he was even kind of blushing. How fucking adorable.

  Fuck! Focus Dylan...later...guys come later.

  The Russian bitch reached out and grabbed Cyrus' free arm. “Sit with me, darling.” She had her best come hither look on at that point.

  You want him you can have him slut. I am a woman on a mission. He has fulfilled his duties for the evening. He got us into this mad house, and he’s of no use to me anymore.

  “Actually, we have some work to do, Dominika. Maybe next time.” Cyrus pulled his arm away from her.

  That's right bitch!!

  Damn, was I glad he did that. I don't know how much longer I could have kept up that charade. If I am being honest, I was a little worried when Cyrus was going to realize I wasn’t a size two blonde bombshell. I feared that at some point, everyone was going to point and laugh at me. I had a horrible feeling that I was going to be made to feel like a complete idiot by Cyrus. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  A look shot across Dominika’s face. It was a flash, and if you weren't looking, you would've missed it. It was the look of betrayal. There was something in her eyes for that split second that scared me. I don't even know what it was, but I was instantly terrified. I wanted to get away from her. Far, far away.

  Thankfully, Cyrus moved past her with Tatum and me in tow. We left Dominika behind. The beautiful girl stood there all alone with only her self-worth to keep her company.

  The three of us quickly fell into step with one another. Our movement made a soft sound. We mimicked the music, a slow, steady, rhythmic, cadence. We moved as one solid unit. If one were to listen to all our hearts at once, they would have been beating in unison. Before I realized it, we had stopped. We were standing in front of the bar. I must have been zoned out by the music, or us. I'm not sure which.

  I was suddenly aware of my surroundings. The music thumped in my head. My eyes had adjusted to the light, causing the room to look much different than when I had first seen it. I saw more people, I felt them, and I smelled them. There were many more bodies here than I had originally assumed. Maybe three or four times more.

  Little Miss Observation is lagging tonight.

  One thing hadn't changed from the moment I stepped through those double doors, the smell. It had only become stronger, more pungent.

  Tatum shoved a drink in my face and said, “Drink up bitch! I'm sobering!”

  “How does you sobering mean I have to drink?” I should have known the answer before I even asked it.

  “Drinking alone makes you an alcoholic...you know that.” She flipped her head back and let the warm liquid slide down her throat. All three of us finished our shots and slammed our glasses down the on bar in unison.

  “Whoo, that's my girl!” Tatum said planting a quick smooch on my cheek.

  My stomach burned a little and my cheeks felt warm as the alcohol settled in. I smiled at Tatum, before turning to gaze at Cyrus. I turned my head too fast and a wave of nausea swept over me. I felt dizzy and a little
disoriented. Everything began to look slightly askew.

  I was almost sober when I walked and one shot wasn't going to get me drunk enough to puke, or even feel dizzy for that matter. What the fuck is my problem.

  I looked up at Cyrus, damn he's tall; I felt like he was towering over me. His eyes were almost glowing green in this light. They smoldered behind his beautiful fanned eyelashes, like two glowing orbs. He smiled then and his stark white teeth glimmered a bit. They were all shiny and white and a little menacing. Maybe it was just the way he was looking at me, maybe he was drunk. Maybe I was drunk.

  I looked over to Tatum, turning as slowly as I could, so as to not get dizzy again. The look on her face surprised me. She looked as though she might vomit, or fall over, maybe both. She wasn't looking at me, just kind of zoned out, face turned toward the dance floor. As I stood there, staring at my best friend wondering if she was as fucked as I was, a strange sensation washed over me. I felt euphoric; suddenly everything was okay. I had no feelings. No regrets, no remorse. Not sad, or angry. Not even scared; though I probably should have been. I just felt free. Tatum looked up at me then and smiled. It wasn't her normal smile, not the smile I had seen thousands of times before. This smile was pure, this smile was unrestricted. I think I smiled back at her, but I’m still not one hundred percent on all the details.

  From what I can remember, we all stood there very still just staring at each other. Yeah...okay looking back now it does seem kind of weird, but at that moment it felt perfect. The next thing I knew we were moving like a wave with the crowd on the dance floor. I could feel every beat of the music like a heartbeat in my soul. Back, and forth, we all swayed. My entire body felt boneless. I remember looking around intently, seeing the entire space for the first time. When we had first entered, I hadn't been paying as much attention as I had thought. I had missed so much in my first observation. I had missed the beautiful chenille clad dancing girls up on the stage. They moved like felines with the music.

  Walls that were painted in a swirl of red and black shades were adorned with deep antique gold sconces. Each assisting in filling the room with flickering candle light. My eyes wandered over the faces in the crowd, still moving in unison with the wave like motion. As I met their eyes, I noticed the light gave their eyes that green glow as Cyrus' eyes had held before. I also noticed that everyone I could see was breathtakingly beautiful. Each one of them had those perfect pouty lips and black fan eyelashes. They all moved as Dominika had, as though they had muscles most people don't.

  I could feel hands on me, on my shoulders, in my hair, pulling around my waist. I was moving with the heartbeat of music pulsing through my body. All of my senses were heightened. I could hear every note of music. I smelled sweat, booze, and blood. I could see everything I couldn't see before. My body turned with the pulsating crowd and I saw something else I hadn't seen before. I saw the mirrors. I couldn't make my eyes focus or my mind wrap around what I was seeing. I tried to stay as still as I could and force myself to understand what I was looking at. There, in the mirror, I saw myself, I saw Tatum. I saw two more women, and a handful of men, all pulsing and moving with the music. I did not see the hands I could feel on my skin. I did not see the bodies I could feel moving around me. I watched in the mirror as Tatum danced with an invisible man to my left. I searched the mirror for Cyrus; he had just been right next to me. The curiosity in me wanted to know why and how it could be. My terrified logic told me to scream, to run like hell away from the dangerous unknown. I spun around frantically to grab Tatum and run. Instead, I slammed right into Cyrus.

  Had he been standing behind me the entire time?

  I tried to turn back to see the mirrors again, but Cyrus held me in place. I looked up at him and attempted to struggle free from his grip. He merely smirked at me, then leaned down and whispered something into my ear. I closed my eyes and tried to hear him speak over the pounding music. I could feel his breath, surprisingly cool on my ear.

  And then…nothing.

  CHAPTER 7

  I blinked my crusty, hung-over eyes over and over again. I rolled my head from side to side and looked around the room in an attempt to figure out where the fuck I was. My eyes were blurry. I couldn't see shit. My mouth tasted like someone had pissed in it. My head felt as if it might have been trapped under the ass of a four-hundred pound woman all night long. Not that I'd know what that feels like.

  I drank waaaay too much last night.

  I rolled over onto my side, only to discover I had been lying on a very thin couch. Thus, crashing to the floor with a very audible thud. I heard a familiar laugh from right in front of me. I opened my eyes, which had been squinted in pain, to find Tatum, looking half asleep and quite hung-over, but still beautiful, on the ground next to the couch I had been lying on. Her face was only inches from mine causing her laugh to shriek in my ears like glass shattering into my brain.

  “Bad pair of skates?” It was Tatum's favorite phrase when someone ate shit. Seeing as though I’m about as graceful as a baby calf, she was able to use it on me almost daily.

  “Fuckin' hilarious, Tatum. Where the hell are we?” I was so irritated by that point I could've punched her.

  “I have no clue, dude. We’re upstairs. That, I can tell you for sure,” she said dispassionately.

  “How do you have any idea we're upstairs? There isn't even a window in here.” I looked then at my surroundings.

  The room we were in had no windows and two doors. I was guessing one door went to a bathroom or closet and the other, I assumed, was an exit of some sort.

  “Judging by the sound of your ass hitting the ground we have to be upstairs.” She said this completely dry, not even a smirk on her face.

  I looked at her, expressionless, for a few moments before I broke. I tried a laugh but that hurt, so I had to settle for a light chuckle. At that, the dry look she was giving me broke too. We have never gone longer than a minute with the stare-off; someone always breaks.

  “Okay, so we're upstairs. What the fuck does that tell us?” I said obviously irritated.

  “Do you remember anything?”

  I thought about it for a minute and tried to remember. I tried to piece together the remnants and fragments of the previous night. I remembered Philippe the vampire tool, and Cyrus, and the bouncer in the tiny shirt. I vaguely recalled pulsing music, candle light, and some slut in a blue dress.

  Fuck. I don't know.

  I couldn't distinguish fact from fiction. It all seemed like a dream. The only thing I could say for certain is that, whatever happened, I was too fucked up to remember it properly.

  My head spun at light speed toward Tatum who, coincidentally, was turning to look at me. My wide eyes met hers as I expressed my discovery.

  “That fuckin' drink!” I shouted. “What the fuck was that shit??” I asked Tatum, hoping she might remember what she had ordered.

  “I have no clue. I can't even remember what it tasted like. You don't know what you ordered?” She said with little thought.

  Huh?

  “I didn't order anything. You handed me a drink. I thought you ordered it...you didn't?”

  “No. I was handed a drink. I drank it. You know I don't question free drinks. If I didn’t buy our drinks, then who did?” She asked.

  “CYRUS!” I screamed this angrily. I hollered loud and angrily enough in fact to rouse the man in question. Two seconds later he came through the door.

  “Well speak of the devil and he appears.” Tatum can be such a snide bitch. I love it.

  “I've always wanted a girl to scream my name.” He smiled that perfect, model smile that makes girls swoon.

  What a dick!

  Tatum had had her fill of Mr. Cyrus Atossa. She jumped up in one fluid movement and was in his face before I could take a breath.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” She spoke through her teeth, so close to his nose she could have bitten it off. Cyrus looked at her like a scared child. I think he even flinched.

&nb
sp; That's my girl, instilling fear in the hearts of men since 1983.

  Cyrus looked down sheepishly, hands in his pockets. “You guys got a little drunk; I didn't know where you lived so I brought you back here,” he said, not meeting our eyes.

  Tatum bowed up, flared her nostrils, and squinted her eyes. If he didn't fess up soon, he was going to leave bloody.

  “Honest. No touchy.” He held his two fingers in the air.

  Scouts honor my ass.

  “Fuck honor, Cyrus. You know what I'm talking about. Why can't we remember anything?” she said, as she gave him a look of rage and fear.

  He hesitated for a second. It was time for bloodshed. Cyrus knew he'd better start talking before she ripped his heart out via his sternum.

  “Okay, okay. You were part of the experience,” he said finally.

  I sat there and watched the perfectly executed right hook make contact with his flawless face. Blood spewed from his mouth; I think a tooth even flew out. He never saw it coming. I instantly burst into uncontrollable laughter. I had seen Tatum knock a fucker out a handful of times throughout our friendship and it never gets old. This time though was a little disheartening, because she may have permanently scarred that beautiful face.

  What the general public doesn't know about Tatum Price is that she’s the daughter of Steven Price, martial artist and professional hit man, turned stunt coordinator for many motion pictures. He’d taught his daughter well before he died. Hell, you should see her handle a firearm. She stood there, face hard and callous, watching as he held his own face in pain.

  “When you’re able, I would like to know the full events of last night. In detail if you would.” She turned slowly and walked nonchalantly to the couch. She sat softly, crossed her legs, and folded her hands in her lap - very ladylike. You would have never guessed she had just nearly punched a man’s teeth in.