Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  “No light. Bad air. Bugs,” Sabrina complained to herself. “How do you do it, Lonzo? I mean, yuck. How do you breathe in there when it’s shut?”

  “I don’t.”

  Eyes on a Rubbermaid tote that had “clothes” scribbled on its side, she snarkily responded, “Smart move.”

  “No one—anyone—one—anyone…no one has ever called me smart.”

  Sabrina opened the tote and found it filled with shirts from when she was a teenager, all were vacuum-sealed in clear bags. The top shirt was for her favorite boy band then: One Direction.

  “Oh God.” Sabrina groaned with the influx of memories. “Story of my life…”

  She tore the bag open, and to her surprise the shirt smelled fresh and felt only slightly stiff.

  “If I remember right, this shirt was always a little big on me.” She carefully withdrew her wings into her back and pulled the shirt over her head. “Let’s hope it fits…”

  As hard as she tried—pulling and stretching at the shirt—there was just no way it was going to fit over her breasts, which both frustrated and in an odd way encouraged her.

  “Funny. When I last wore this shirt, I’d wished I had bigger boobs. Now I wish my boobs were smaller so it would still fit.” Sabrina pulled the shirt back over her head and tossed it into the depths of the storage unit.

  “I—I was always an—an ass man,” Lonzo said with another long series of violent coughs. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize. A lot people think my backside is my better asset.”

  Sabrina spotted another tote atop a pile that said “clothes.” This one also had a date scrawled on it: 2016. Maybe I’ll fit in those. Sabrina recalled the angst that came with that age. Sixteen. How can those wounds feel so fresh and so long ago at the same time? Fucking sixteen.

  She tossed the tote out of the storage unit and then grabbed another one that was beneath it and threw that one out the door too.

  “You okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Sabrina leapt out of the unit, back into the fresh air. She had begun to sweat.

  “You really are missing the show here, Lonzo.” Sabrina fanned her chest with her hand. “If you actually are blind, I feel really bad for you. I mean, it’s not every day a nude girl is jumping around outside your home is it?”

  She heard something rattle around in the storage unit across from hers and wondered if her boldness had upset Lonzo.

  “Lonzo?” she called out as she opened the first of the totes. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so rude. I’m just frustrated.”

  Without any answer, Sabrina started to feel concerned. She looked off to the office building and then up to the sky. Being alone with this mystery man was beginning to make her heart race. Weston, where are you?

  “Hey, Lonzo,” she called out as she rifled through her tote. “Once I get my stuff, is there anything I could get you?”

  “I’m thirsty,” he answered quickly.

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Do you have water? Pop maybe?” Lonzo asked. “I would love some P-P-Pepsi-Coke.”

  “No soda in here, but I did see a machine across the street when I flew—” Sabrina stopped. “When I ran in.”

  “Been forever since I had a good drink.”

  I know I owned at least one hoodie, she thought as she held up another shirt with a boy band on it. Yuck. Was this all I wore back then, cheesy baby tees? “Yeah, I’m starting to think I could use a drink too, Lonzo.”

  “What do fairies like to drink?”

  Sabrina thought she misheard him. “Excuse me?”

  “What do—do—do—you like to drink?”

  She squeezed into the a faded shirt; it was ridiculously tight. Lucky for her, it was packed with a tiny pair of stretch nylon shorts that matched it.

  “No, what did you call me?” Sabrina asked as she pulled up the tight-fitting shorts.

  “Fairy.”

  She knew she’d sensed an otherworldly nearby, but she figured it was the one who managed the place. Now she wasn’t sure.

  “Weston?” Sabrina called out lightly, so as not to alert Lonzo to her panic.

  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Yeah, you’d be the first then.” Sabrina sealed the tote in front of her firmly.

  “Are you the r-r-reason for all this r-rumbling?” he asked. “Not safe here. Not safe for any of us.”

  “Us?” Sabrina had had enough guessing. “Who and what are you, Lonzo?”

  “I—I once was a va—va—va—vampire.”

  “Fucking vampires!” She grunted in response and nearly released her wings in anger. “What the fuck! Come out. Come out now!”

  “The slumber was called. I resisted.”

  “Weston,” Sabrina called out louder, no longer concerned that Lonzo would hear her.

  There was more banging around in Lonzo’s storage unit, after which an old folding beach chair was kicked out into view.

  “Why does the management allow you to live here?” Sabrina asked.

  “Golems don’t care. They don’t judge. They only do as their m-masters command.”

  “Golems run this place?” She looked towards the office again. “I thought it was run by a brood of pixies?”

  “No. I—I…”

  The wind kicked up suddenly; her bodyguard had arrived.

  “Weston, I…” Sabrina paused when she realized he was vibrating as he formed up beside her.

  “Hold on.”

  Suddenly, another Weston formed up to her left. Which was which? she wondered, until she saw that the one of the left was carrying her Victoria’s Secret Pink leather backpack.

  He handed her the pack, and the two Westons stepped closer to each other, their vibrations crackling, igniting a spark the moment they made contact with one another.

  “Sorry. Much better.”

  Sabrina was unsure how to describe all that she had just seen. “What was that?”

  “Nice booty shorts.”

  “Was that static? Did you just spark?”

  Weston did not answer her question. “What’s happening here?”

  More movement could be heard from within the shadows of Lonzo’s storage unit. Sabrina could almost identify the man now, as he shuffled forward to the folding chair that was only slightly out past the door.

  “Name yourself!” Weston howled.

  “Lonzo—”

  “You’re kind, Lonzo,” Weston ordered. “What are you?”

  Staggered against the breeze Weston created, Lonzo had still yet to step fully into view.

  “Was a vampire.”

  “Sabrina, do you have what you came for?” Weston asked her.

  Sabrina gazed back into her storage unit. It was filled with memories, many she wished to forget. She was sure there was more clothes in there, outfits, and dresses; things that would have fit her better, but she was done searching.

  “More or less.”

  “Then we should go.”

  “Please, so thirsty,” Lonzo begged.

  “You’re lucky I don’t destroy you, vampire,” Weston bit out. “I’ll die before your kind takes another sip of Sabrina’s blood.”

  “Not blood—”

  “He wants a soda,” She alluded as she twisted her bangle over her wrist.

  “Soda?” Weston sounded confused.

  “Pepsi, I think.”

  Lonzo stepped closer to the threshold of the storage unit, avoiding the sun. He may have kept to the shadows, but those shadows were not dark enough to hide him from Sabrina’s curious eyes.

  “What the fuck…” she gasped. “What are you?”

  “Vampire—”

  “No,” she interrupted. “You are definitely not a vampire. I know vampires.”

  “I once was a vampire.”

  “He’s a ghoul.”

  Sabrina turned to Weston. “A what?”

  “Damn, it’s true. Huh?” Weston sounded surprised. “It’s long been rumored tha
t ghouls are just vampires that did not go to ground with the others, ones that are no longer part of their clan. I guess, like, homeless vampires.”

  Sabrina pointed. “He’s…decomposing.”

  “Apparently that’s what happens to vampires if they don’t go to ground when they should.”

  “No it doesn’t,” Sabrina sneered and shook her head. “Stop teasing. That’s a zombie, right? He’s a zombie, isn’t he?”

  “Sabrina,” Weston laughed. “Zombies don’t have intelligent conversations, and I’m pretty sure they don’t want to drink soda.”

  She folded her arms. “How do you know all this? Cade never said anything about vampires getting sick and decaying.”

  “It’s my job to know all there is about all the otherworldly races. Especially the dangerous ones.”

  Lonzo stepped out into the sun, and when he did, Sabrina cringed. He looked ill; his dark skin was splotchy, covered in sores, and sloughing. Dressed in rags, he looked no different than the destitute men on the streets.

  “He’s r—right.”

  Lonzo took a seat in his beach chair, and Sabrina realized all the man’s fingers were nothing but stubs, all ending at the second knuckle.

  “Your hands…”

  “Rotting.”

  “Why is this happening to you?”

  Weston tugged on Sabrina’s arm. “We should go.”

  “I need to know.” Sabrina held up her hand in a gesture for Weston to stop. “What causes an undead vampire to rot?”

  “Your friend’s r—right,” Lonzo said with a wheeze. “In 1999, I should’ve buried myself deep in the sands of Pousada da Amendoeira.”

  “Brazil?”

  Weston was formed up enough for Sabrina to see that he turned his head to face her, and she’d guessed he was surprised by her answer.

  “Top marks, Sabrina,” he whispered.

  “You ever been t-there?” Lonzo asked.

  “I have. It’s beautiful.”

  “My clan sleeps there now. I should’ve gone, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to hunt and kill and drink. I wanted to continue being what I was. What I w—was—was.”

  “So you resisted the pull. And it made you into this?” Sabrina didn’t mean to sound rude, but she had to know.

  Lonzo stirred in his chair. He coughed and tried to get comfortable again.

  “I had a rare skin disease before I was turned,” Lonzo explained. “My sire cured me. I never should have d—disobeyed.”

  “Vampires don’t get diseases,” Sabrina said to Weston and then looked back at Lonzo. “Are you not feeding? Is that it?”

  “I haven’t needed to feed in a long time. Not on blood.”

  “Lonzo!” Sabrina’s curiosity butted with her frustration. “I’ll get you a soda from across the street. Two sodas. A Pepsi and a Coke, just tell me…what caused this?”

  “I did,” He answered. “I went against my nature as a vampire…and n—n—now…I’m not one.”

  “What happens to the single bird that does not follow the flock?” Weston asked. “He gets lost.”

  Lonzo nodded.

  “Sabrina”—Weston sounded excited, like he solved the riddle—“I think I understand now. Lonzo, are you dying?”

  “Yes.”

  “Vampire’s don’t die.” Sabrina shook her head.

  “Ghouls do,” Lonzo replied. “That’s pretty much all ghouls do.”

  “Lonzo, are you saying that being separated from your clan, from every other vampire around, that you basically lost all that defines you as one?” Weston asked.

  “Yes.”

  “So after all this,” Weston continued, “after resisting the slumber and rejecting the desires of their clan, a vampire will just return to the state he or she was in before being turned?”

  “Yes.”

  Weston moved suddenly to the side, and the gust nearly knocked her over. “Do you know what this means, Sabrina? It means whatever disease was killing Lonzo before he was turned is killing him again now. It means he’s becoming human again.”

  “Y-you-you are correct.”

  Sabrina took a long look at Lonzo and grew sadder by the second. “Then the same could happen to Cade…if he’s still out there…”

  Storage Unit

  Sabrina put her feet up on a stack of Rubbermaid totes that were filled with old stuffed animals and joined her hands behind her neck. This isn’t that bad, she thought, seated comfortably upon a black-and-white leather chair she had in her parent’s old apartment.

  The two-hundred-square-foot storage unit had plenty of empty space, and with Weston swirling the air around, it was comfortable inside, even with the door shut.

  Sabrina closed her eyes and settled further into the chair. She’d not thought about it until then, but this was the first moment she had been off her feet all day.

  “I think Lonzo is asleep.”

  “Hmm, a vampire that sleeps at night,” Sabrina said lazily.

  “Not a vampire anymore.”

  “I know.” She opened one eye and looked about for Weston. “A ghoul.”

  “And you actually bought him some soda.”

  She chuckled. “Did you see how happy he was?”

  “I did.”

  “Poor guy is blind and decaying. Today was probably the best day he’s had since…” Sabrina paused. “I don’t know when.”

  “And how about you?”

  Sabrina opened her eyes and took a drink from the open soda bottle that sat next to her. “What about me?”

  “How are you doing, Sabrina?”

  She could actually see Weston some, enough to know he stood a few feet in front of her. The light bulb Lonzo gave them had a horrible amber cast to it, but the way it altered the space within Weston’s frame to look almost green, made Sabrina think of a sunset she once saw on a hiking trip with her parents when they’d first came to America.

  “To be honest, I’m a little numb.”

  “From me?”

  “No!” Sabrina promptly gave him a startled look.

  “Oh. From all that’s happened today?”

  “From all this.” Sabrina waved her arms around. “It’s like a tsunami of long-forgotten memories. I’m literally living in the past right now. Sitting on my old chair, dressed in my old clothes, looking at my old bodyguard.”

  “Your old clothes don’t fit you. You look like a nineties roller derby girl in this those short shorts,” Weston joked.

  “Yeah, well these short shorts helped me get fifteen dollars in ones outside the drug store across the street.”

  “About that…I think that businessman recognized you but was afraid to say anything.”

  “Fuck if I care.” She grumbled. The last thing she was worried about was being recognized. “He’s fine. Seemed like a nice guy; did you see what was in his bag?”

  “Tampons.”

  “Tampons.” Sabrina smiled. “You can always trust a guy buying tampons. They’ll say and do whatever you ask.”

  “Oh yeah, why’s that?”

  “Because most guys hate buying tampons more than anything else, even more than condoms or laxatives. They get so embarrassed by it. It’s silly.” Sabrina drank the soda bottle empty before she finished her thoughts. “If another guy walks up to them, they are mortified. But at the same time they know, deep down, that maybe that other guy has also had to buy tampons for their girlfriend or wife too. So while looking away, they are also sharing some dumb male bonding moment.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah.” She nodded. “But when a girl walks up to them, they totally panic. They’ll do anything to get out of that uncomfortable situation.”

  “Like hand over fifteen bucks to some half-dressed blonde walking barefoot in the streets?”

  “That’s right.” Sabrina smiled.

  “You know, there was a moment I thought he was gonna hand you his whole wad of cash,” Weston said.

  “And I didn’t even have to take my top off. Suck it, Spea
rmint Rhino.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Sabrina grinned slyly. “Just saying that I rule.”

  “Well, the way I see it, you owe me at least two dollars of that fifteen.”

  “Oh? How?”

  “Well, that was me creating a breeze around you when you were approaching that guy and his bag of feminine hygiene products.”

  “So?”

  “So, why else do you think your nipples were so hard?”

  “Weston!” Sabrina threw her empty soda bottle at him, which he caught with ease.

  “Just saying that I rule too.”

  Sabrina sneered at him. This all feels so familiar. Which prompted her to say, “Too bad we don’t have a TV in here. We could watch some classic sci-fi shows.”

  “Just like the old days,” Weston said.

  “Just like the old days,” she repeated with a laugh, covering her stomach with her hand when it suddenly growled loudly.

  “You haven’t eaten all day.”

  “I would kill for some Chinese food right now.”

  Weston gusted around the small space a moment, then stopped and settled near her. “I might be able to find something here to wear, and then go out and get you some.”

  She looked at her cell phone, one of the few things Weston managed to save when her apartment collapsed. “I could order delivery.”

  “And have it delivered where? Here?”

  “No, the office.”

  “It’s almost 10 pm. I doubt—”

  “Lonzo said the office is run by a golem.”

  “A golem?” He sounded intrigued. “No shit.”

  Sabrina stood up and stretched her arms, what she really wanted was to release her wings and take a long hot bath. “When my father moved my stuff here…couple years ago…it was run by a family of pixies.”

  “Pixies don’t make golems.”

  “I know.”

  “Then I wonder who owns this place now.”

  “Does it really matter?” Sabrina crossed her arms.

  Weston was quiet a moment. “Place your order, don’t give them your name, have it sent to the office. I’ll snatch it when it gets here.”

  “We have to pay, Weston.”

  “Fine. Can your phone locate the nearest ATM?” he asked.