Two Polluted Black-Heart Romances

by Kevin James Breaux

  Cade. Sabrina sneered. Cade Robert Lawton. He’s to blame.

  “The last couple days here have been nice, Jackson. Really nice. No drama. I was really starting to feel…” Sabrina chuckled sarcastically. “I was beginning to feel human.”

  “You? Sabrina London?” he said in a way that was clearly meant to tease.

  “Yeah me.”

  Sabrina aimed a bottle of body soap and was about to throw it at Jackson when there was a knock on the door.

  “Sabrina?” Peter called out. “May I enter?”

  “Please do.”

  Sabrina stepped closer to the shower glass and watched Peter enter the spacious bathroom. She wondered how he would react to Jackson being there too.

  “Oh, I did not realize you had company.”

  “Jackson and I are just talking. I didn’t want to be alone. You can imagine why.”

  “I guess I can,” Peter replied, then looked at his watch. “Well, I wanted to see if I can offer you anything to help calm your nerves.”

  “Maybe. I’m not sure right now.” Sabrina lathered up her stomach and chest again, still unable to feel clean.

  “To be honest, I had no clue we had such large bats here in California. And near the water. It’s odd. Maybe there are some caves nearby? None of my neighbors have ever mentioned such horrible things. If I’d known—”

  “It’s not your fault, Peter.”

  “Yes, but I find the idea of you being attacked, and on my property, very distasteful.” Peter groaned. “It’s a right bloody travesty.”

  Sabrina heard Jackson chuckle softly.

  “It’s okay, Peter. I’m fine.”

  “Your friend, Moselle, she said you’ll be departing with her tonight. I was”—Peter stepped closer to the glass and lowered his voice—“I was really hoping you’d stay. We still have much to talk about and…and…”

  Sabrina moved closer to the glass again, she knew she was clearly visible to both Peter and Jackson now, but she did not care. “You don’t want me to go?”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why don’t you come in here, right now. Show me how much you don’t want me to go,” she dared, then pressed her lips to the glass—a kiss mark formed perfectly in the fogged area.

  “Sabrina…” Peter frowned. “I couldn’t.”

  She caught Peter’s glance back at Jackson; it sparked a thought in her head. Is Peter gay? Bisexual? Is that what’s holding him back?

  “I should go.” Jackson stood up.

  “No. No. No. It is I who should go.” Peter gave him one of his charming smiles. “You came to visit your friend and here I am rudely interrupting your conversation. I have some business to attend to, but please, love, take my request into consideration. Don’t leave. Not tonight.”

  `Sabrina drew a heart on the steamed up glass, smiled, and pointed at Peter. “Don’t you worry, Peter. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good.” Peter smiled back.

  She watched him leave. When he shut the door behind him, she wiped the heart clear and drew a new picture: a yuck face with an arrow through its head.

  “I just don’t get him.”

  “What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, now back at the sinks.

  Sabrina reached for the shampoo as she considered her answer. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Just when I thought I was safe…I still need a bodyguard. I can’t believe I still need a bodyguard, Jackson. Damn it! What I need is Mira.” She sighed and then paused a moment. “How long have I been in here?”

  “Not sure. Fifteen minutes? Maybe twenty?”

  “Right now, I should be calling my father. I should be calling the Otherworldly Assembly. I should be seeking answers, but all I really want to do right now is to fucking forget this all happened. All I seriously want to do is avoid all this otherworldly shit. All of it.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Jackson said soothingly.

  “Yeah? Okay. Well, what about this? After all that’s just fucking happened, I’m standing here obsessing over why Peter hasn’t tried to fuck me?”

  “Ah—”

  “Exactly,” she mumbled and then fumed. “What’s wrong with me? I’ve made it clear that I’m ready and willing. I mean, he’s fucking seen me naked. Twice now. What the hell! What the hell is wrong with me?”

  “Maybe he’s gay.”

  “Are you gay?” Sabrina snapped.

  “No.” Jackson stood up straighter. “Why would you—”

  “Well, I’ve given you a few signals too, champ,” she openly admitted as she rinsed her hair.

  “I—”

  “See? Something’s wrong with me. I’m that thing people want, but when they get it, they don’t want it anymore. I’m damaged goods. My fucking parents don’t even want me.”

  “Sabrina,” he interrupted. “You’re not damaged goods. That’s silly.”

  “Then stop looking away from me, come over here, and look at me. Really look at me.”

  It took a moment, but Jackson walked across the room and stared through the glass.

  “Do you see me?” Sabrina asked.

  “I do.”

  “Do you?” she asked again more seriously.

  “Yes.”

  “This is me. All of me.” She turned around and around. “This is Sabrina London: naked, no make-up, wings hidden, no defenses. This is Sabrina London tucked safely behind glass, on display just like she has always been.”

  “You look beautiful. I’m sure Peter—”

  Sabrina raised her voice over Jackson’s. “Come see Sabrina London, the object of man’s desire—of unattainable desire. Come stare at her all you want; you’re perfectly safe. She can’t hurt you behind this glass. Come find her flaws. Come exploit her weaknesses. Come destroy her dreams.”

  “Sabrina—”

  “Look but never touch.” Sabrina lifted her hand and pressed it to the glass in front of her.

  “Sabrina—”

  “So close and so far. Right, Jackson? On the other side of this glass case. Just out of reach…” She inched closer to the glass. “What do you do?”

  “Sabrina, I—”

  “Oh, you can stare at me all you want. People love to stare at me. I’m like an exotic animal at a zoo.”

  “You’re not—”

  “Here, look at my tits.” Sabrina pressed them to the glass. “You like them? You like my tits, Jackson? Or is it my ass?” She asked as she turned fully around. “My face, my lips, my hair? What do you like? What do you want?”

  “Sabrina, please, calm down.”

  “Fuck that!” She shook her head. “You all say you want this so much, but what do you do when you’re given the chance to take it?”

  He stared silently.

  “Want is a strange thing, Jackson.” Sabrina smiled. “There are things I’ve wanted for ten years or more and have never got. There are things I’ve wanted for ten minutes and then got two of. What I wanted yesterday,” she huffed, “I may not want anymore today. And the thing I most wanted hours ago, hell, I may be too tired, too freaking shy to even ask for it right now.”

  “You need to rest, Sabrina. What can I do to help?”

  “What do you want, Jackson?” She pointed and then tapped on the glass with her fingernail. “What do you fucking want?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You could’ve stayed downstairs with Moselle, but you came up here to my room. You knew I was in the shower and you walked right in and knocked on my bathroom door. I’m asking you why, Jackson. Why? What did you want? Did you get it? Did you change your mind when you got it? Or do you still want it?”

  “Seriously, Sabrina, you’re worrying me.”

  “Oh, I see. You’ve read the sign above my cage.” She pointed up. “My father put it there long—long ago. Sabrina London. Look but never touch.”

  The room grew silent in the absence of her rants. She focused on his breathing.

&nb
sp; “Well?” she asked. “Look or touch?”

  “You know what I want. I want you. I want to touch. I want to come in there and hold you.”

  “So why don’t you?”

  “Because things are complicated…because, I’m with Moselle.”

  “Yeah, how’s that working for you?”

  “Look, I just want to make sure you’re okay, Sabrina. The most important thing to me is that you’re okay.”

  “Another bodyguard, huh?” Sabrina shut off the water. “Guards. More guards. I ask for love and all I get is protection.”

  “Sabrina—”

  “I—I think maybe you should leave now, Jackson.”

  Dinner

  When Jackson rejoined Moselle in Peter’s foyer, his head was full of weird thoughts. Sabrina had deeply mind-fucked him.

  Was she coming on to me? Or was she just so pissed off at this guy Peter that she wanted to fuck me just to punish him? Maybe it’s her wings. Maybe she’s going to shed…

  “Jackson.”

  Moselle waved to him as he descended the last few stairs. For some reason, when he looked at her here, she seemed drastically out of place.

  “These high ceilings make you look so small, Moselle.”

  She crossed her arms. “Is that so?”

  “Maybe it’s the modern design,” Jackson said. “All the square shapes, sharp angles, blocky-ness—it’s all the opposite of your house. Kinda reminds me of that one LEGO movie.”

  “Now is not the time for levity, my love.”

  “Maybe it is.” He gazed over his shoulder and then back. “I feel like my heart’s going to burst if I don’t sit down and take a break soon.”

  “Oh? Was it hard work?”

  “What?” he asked as he sat down on a stone bench near the front door.

  “Watching Sabrina bathe.”

  Jackson was shocked. “I wasn’t just watching. I mean, I went up there to check on her like you said. She’s exhausted, freaked out, and scared, Moss.”

  “Well”—Moselle’s tone quickly changed to one full of compassion—“That is unfortunate. She has suffered so much today.”

  He could sense the energy shift. He was sure, something bad was coming. “What happened?”

  “The news is more dire than I ever would have expected.”

  Jackson drew a deep breath and held it for a count of ten. He tried to slow his heart rate down but couldn’t. “Tell me.”

  “As you know, I spoke with my father. He shared with me some dreadful events that had only reached him hours ago.” Moselle stepped closer to him and bent at the waist so she could whisper. “There was an attack on the Otherworldly Assembly. More specifically, the Elemental Kingdom.”

  “Don’t tell me…” He struggled for breath. “Sabrina’s parents?”

  “Yes.” Moselle released a tiny shudder. “They’re dead, Jackson.”

  “Oh my God.” He looked back up the stairs in the direction of Sabrina’s room.

  “This news will devastate her.”

  “Moss, I think she already knows.”

  “How could she already know?” Moselle stood up straight and placed her hands on her hips. “Who would have told her?”

  “That slime monster.”

  “One of the Tainted.”

  “Yeah, well, it said something to her.” Jackson could not recall the exact words. “He-it—it alluded that something was wrong.”

  “My father said there was no clear suspect and that an investigation is—”

  “Jesus. She’s already freaking out up there, Moss. We can’t tell her this,” he explained. “You’re right, this will devastate her.”

  Moselle marched toward the front door and peered out. “Which is why we need to shelter and protect her.”

  Jackson understood what she hinted at, and it was the last thing he wanted to do. “You don’t mean take her back to your house, do you?”

  “I do. My father suggested—”

  “Moselle,” he said louder than he intended. Reining himself in, he continued in a quieter voice. “Those things said they infiltrated your home. There may be more of them there. There probably are more of them there.”

  “Yes, but I can—”

  “You?” he asked. “You were knocked right out of the fight the moment it started. Thrown clear across this rich dude’s backyard. Right into his damn pool.”

  “I was not prepared.” Moselle straightened her attire. She was still wet and obviously uncomfortable.

  “And what did Cade say?”

  “Cade claims he has encountered the thing that is responsible for most of the destruction in Los Angeles. He also claims to have wounded it and now has a plan to destroy it.”

  Jackson was relieved. Suddenly, he was glad the vampire and his friends were on their way. “Good. Great. Okay, what’s his plan?”

  “All he said was that it may take several days to put his plan into motion.”

  “Several days?” Jackson laughed sarcastically, stood up, paced a few steps away from Moselle, and then went back to the bench. “What are we supposed to do for several days, Moss? Did Cade say?”

  “We hide.”

  He wondered if maybe Moselle hadn’t been right when she’d said they should run off. But then a distant and somewhat unfamiliar memory flashed in his mind. I’ve fled before. I’ve fled from something so big that it felt like it could not be escaped.

  “Jackson?” Moselle called out.

  Startled, he responded gruffly. “What?”

  “Are you going to answer him?”

  He looked up. Peter Rubie stood nearly shoulder to shoulder with Moselle. What the hell? Jackson hadn’t heard the man’s approach or question.

  “Darling, it’s rude.”

  “I’m sorry, what did you say?” he asked Peter.

  “I said there’s still time to share a meal and several glasses of wine this evening. Better yet, I could have my men turn down a bed for you. You both could spend the night.”

  “I am hungry.” Jackson patted his stomach.

  “I’m afraid Cade will be waiting for us, my love.”

  “Cade?” Peter said, his mood no longer jovial. “Sabrina’s ex-boyfriend? The same?”

  “Yes.” Moselle nodded.

  “He’s the one responsible for much of Sabrina’s strife. Have you heard her lyrics?”

  Jackson shook his head. He didn’t have to hear the lyrics; he’d seen the couple interact. Their relationship was parasitic at best.

  “We have not,” Moselle answered.

  “Well, many of her songs are about him.” Peter scratched his chin. “Did you say he was coming to see her?”

  “He is.”

  “Well. That is a fascinating tidbit.”

  Jackson caught the man’s tone of voice change. “Moselle, this isn’t our business.”

  “Oh?”

  “No.” Jackson stood and addressed their host. “Peter, we would love to have dinner with you. But we might have to leave shortly afterward.”

  “Very well.” Peter smiled. “Dinner will be ready in less than an hour.”

  There was a knock on Sabrina’s door. She smiled. She knew he would come back; it was only a matter of time.

  Seated at the vanity, Sabrina was dressed in the red Calvin Klein mini dress she had wore right before her building collapsed. She had thrown it off the balcony and never expected to see it again—that was, until Jackson had brought it back to her. Weston must have saved it. Sabrina shook her head. She had always loved this dress.

  There was another knock. Sabrina tossed her hair and applied another layer of lipstick—a deep maroon that matched her dress.

  She was ready.

  “Coming,” she said.

  Sabrina felt something odd stir inside her. Her heart fluttered and her skin crawled; there was an otherworldly nearby and when Sabrina opened the door, she sighed loudly.

  “Moselle.”

  “Sabrina.”

  Sabrina couldn’t look past t
he horrible pantsuit Moselle wore; it was unlike anything she had ever seen her friend in.

  “What are you wearing, Hilary Clinton’s hand-me-downs?”

  “Peter said it belonged to his wife,” Moselle answered as she pulled at the collar.

  Sabrina shook her head. “How old was his wife? Seventy?”

  “It is dreadful. I can barely stand it.”

  “What do you want, Moselle?”

  Moselle looked surprised by Sabrina’s tone. “Such disappointment, Sabrina, it is palatable.”

  “Like you can taste anything.”

  “What is wrong, my friend? You have been heated since we arrived.”

  Sabrina tapped her foot and then gazed out past Moselle.

  “Nothing.”

  “I know you better than that.”

  “Fine,” she admitted. “I was hoping you were someone else.”

  Moselle crossed her arms. “You are mad at me. Jackson told me that our presence here has upset you deeply.”

  “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “We—”

  “You should’ve called me the moment you and Jackson left the hospital.” Sabrina pointed at Moselle’s chest. “I saw the smoke from my balcony. I watched the reports on the TV; they made me sick.”

  “I was—”

  “I thought you were dead, Moss!” Sabrina rose her voice. “I was sure of it.”

  “I was afraid.”

  “Don’t you understand? I was doing good, Moselle. I was doing really good. And then you messed it all up.” Sabrina explained. “You took Cade from me. Then you took yourself and Jackson. You left me with no one.”

  “I did not take anything from you.” Moselle backed away from Sabrina as she spoke.

  “Oh really?”

  “I did what I thought was right. I fled the hospital with Jackson. I expected the wraiths would kill us both before the night’s end. I was protecting you by not calling you—not involving you.”

  “But you called Cade. And he rushed to help you. He left me with no explanation, Moss. No explanation!”

  “You place improper blame on me for the misgivings in your relationship, Sabrina.”

  “Misgivings?”

  “If you loved Cade, then you would not be here with this man.”

  Sabrina wanted to slap her. “Fuck you, Moselle.”