I coughed and turned away from him, letting even more spill out of me relentlessly, sending spasms through my spine that were frightening me. I couldn’t breathe . . .
“Dessa,” he pleaded when I finally closed my eyes and fell back against the cold pavement. I let the concrete caress my cheek as I lie there motionless, my breathing shallow and still. “Dessa, please answer me . . .”
I made no move. My body wouldn’t respond . . .
I yelled at my arms, my hands, my fingers to twitch even the slightest bit, to let him know I was okay . . .
Was I okay?
“Dessa, look at me!”
He was angry . . .
I silently shouted a protest at my eyelids, and they obeyed me instantaneously, fluttering profusely as they tried to hold on to the light.
“Thank God,” he sighed in relief, touching the back of his hand to my cheek. “What the hell happened?”
I looked at him, and I remembered it all.
“You didn’t see?” I countered back.
“See? See what?” He looked completely beyond surprised, his eyes widening in horror at the unseen danger that had caused this to happen to me.
“The reflection of us . . . We had devilish eyes, the whites were black, you were smiling evilly and I was beside you, my eyes the same as yours. . . .”
I was babbling ceaselessly when he put a finger to my lips. “Just rest for a minute, okay?” his voice cracked when he spoke. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry,” I mumbled, letting my eyes close as he pulled me against his chest.
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said calmly, stroking my hair as I lie motionless in his arms. “Let me take you home.”
“Okay,” I agreed weakly, praying that I would regain my strength soon enough. My dinner date with Pa and the infamous Skylar Cormac Buchanan was shortly approaching, and I was so not going to miss it because I got stomach sick.
Pa needed me, and I wasn’t about to desert her now when she needed me to help her through her problems.
Chris carried me in his arms while he levitated on the water board, his balance incredibly stable despite my body weight.
I noticed that we were moving quite slowly, because the wind brushing against my face was rather gentle. For a second I thought I heard Pa whispering to me, her voice carrying itself with the wind.
“It’s okay if you can’t come,” she was whispering as the wind touched my cheek. “I understand.”
“No,” I said aloud. Chris looked at me, puzzled, but shrugged and continued concentrating on the path of the board. “I want to come with you. I don’t want to leave you alone with him.”
Chris looked at me again. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I answered as the wind and soft rain mixed together to form a lovely calming sensation. “I can feel the others. Like they’re right here beside me helping to guide us home.”
He smiled.
I nodded, smiling weakly. I was still uber exhausted. After seeing what I’d seen, who wouldn’t be at the very least freaking out of their mind?
Chris landed the board slowly and gently, and he whistled for it to follow him as he carried me into my house. He put me on the couch, laying my head against my favorite purple squishy pillow. I closed my eyes as his fingers traced the lines of my face, taking away the moisture that was permeating there. His touch was cool and blissful, calming every sore muscle in my body.
“Will you be okay if I leave you here?” he asked concerned. “Or would you prefer that I stayed here with you?”
The last thing I wanted was to be a pussy, but I wanted Chris to stay. I needed to look at him, needed to feel him next to me, but he needed to leave. He probably had some things to take care of. And I had to get ready for my impending dinner date.
“You can go,” I said, my voice a little shaky. “Just open that window for me, please.” He obeyed with a solemn expression, opening the living room window. The sunlight filtered in onto the couch where I was resting, immersing me in the warmth of the light. The cool wind blew in freely, and the cool raindrops tried to find their way to my face to cool the fever rushing through me.
“Thank you,” I told him. He bent over and kissed my forehead, closing his eyes and sighing as he pulled away.
“Take care of yourself,” he said sternly, yet gently. “I don’t want anything more to happen to you.”
“I will,” I promised. “I’m gonna try to rest for a bit in the light. Maybe it will energize me just as the water does to you.”
“I’m sure it will,” he said with a smile. “Take care. You know how to call me if you need me.”
I smiled. “Thank you for everything.”
“It’s my pleasure,” he answered as he turned away, closing the door quietly behind him. It was quiet for a while after he had gone, with only the singing of the birds, the soft patter of rain, and the gentle breeze blowing through the window toward me as my company. I basked in the sunlight as it rested its warming rays upon me.
Suddenly I was feeling stronger, like I had seriously just chugged a 2-liter bottle of Mountain Dew, and my awareness was returning. I stood up slowly, expecting my legs to give out from beneath me, but I was perfectly stable.
I walked upstairs and got into the shower, letting the warm water rush over me. It reminded me of Chris, his hands touching my skin under the water just the day before.
I embraced that memory, held onto it, willing with all my heart that I could experience it again. Okay, yeah, it had hurt like hell, but it was amazing. It had felt so wonderful . . .
After I got out of the shower, I picked up my cell phone and dialed Pa’s number. She wasn’t working, so I automatically called her cell, assuming she wouldn’t be doing anything important.
She answered on the second ring.
“D? Are you all right? What happened?”
“Relax, Pa,” I said hastily as I heard the tone of her voice escalate toward panic. “I just saw something really weird that made me a little stomach sick. That’s all. No big deal. I think I just got so whacked out because I vomited everything I’ve eaten in the past week and a half.”
She chuckled, but still sounded worried. “D, are you sure? You don’t have to come tonight if you aren’t feeling well.”
“Dude, I’m A-Okay,” I pledged, taking a pack of yogurt out of the fridge. As I searched for a spoon, I added, “The minute the sun touched me, I felt okay again. And you know something else? I could hear you when I was semi-unconscious. I heard your voice through the wind.”
“I could hear you, too,” she replied. “That’s the perfect way to communicate if you ever need anything. Whisper to the wind, and I’ll answer you.”
“That’s good,” I said lamely, not knowing what else to say. “I just called so you knew I wasn’t ditching you. What time do you want me over?”
She paused for a moment, obviously contemplating my question. “Uh . . . I think around 4 or so. What time is it now?”
I took a second to peek at the clock above the oven.
“It’s 3:30 . . . Holy Jeez!” I exclaimed, half-jumping-slash-kicking my legs in frenzy. “3:30 . . . How long was I . . .? Oh wow . . .”
She laughed. “It’s okay, D. Just show up as soon as you can. I’m in no hurry to do this.” She paused again. “Yeah, I know I need to come clean with Skylar about this, but I just don’t want to deal with his attitude right now. Not after what just happened to you.”
“I’m completely fine,” I promised. “I’ll be there around four. Just give me a few minutes to get some clothes on and fix my hair. I’ll see you by 4:30 at the latest.”
“Okay!” she replied in her usually perky voice. “See you then! I’m glad you’re okay, D,” she added, relief flooding her voice.
“Yeah, girl,” I replied with a smile of my own. “Me, too. I’ll see you in an hour, okay?”
“All right, bye! Love you!”
“Love you, too, Pa,�
�� I replied. I heard the dial tone burst through the line and I hung up the phone, dropping it in my open purse. I threw away my now-empty yogurt and ran up the stairs, feeling strangely energized.
It took me forever—figuratively—to decide on what to wear to the dinner. I eventually decided on a cute little gray sweater dress. It hugged my figure all the way to my knees, and it was decorated with twirling abstract designs that originated at the neck line. I put on a pair of black stiletto heels and walked skillfully down the stairs to the front door, grabbing the car keys from their designated peg beside the door.
I locked up and got into the amazing Acura, listening to the computerized voice welcoming me. I tuned it out quickly, turning up the dial for the radio. I plugged in my phone and listened to my favorite album of Breaking Benjamin: We Are Not Alone.
I cruised through the streets with the windows partly down, letting Breaking Benjamin’s music carry me away. I felt weirdly at peace when I heard Ben Burnley’s voice singing to me, almost like I could trust him; like he knew what it felt like to go through terrible things, and he was trying to help me with mine.
It was around 4:05 when I pulled into Pa’s driveway. Her little green VW Bug was parked in her miniscule one car garage, the door of which was opened. On the street in front of her apartment was parked a red 2012 Ferrari convertible with black flames trailing the entire body.
That must have been Skylar’s car. I parked the shining white Acura behind the Ferrari and walked up to her doorstep.
She must have seen me pull up, because she was already at the door when I approached.
“D!” she exclaimed as she opened the screen door. She pulled me into a hug that felt so happy and light and I could swear I felt the breeze playing and picking up around us.
“Hey, Pa,” I said happily, pulling her gently away to arm’s length so I could get a good look at her. She was gorgeous.
Her skin was slightly tanned, a rich light brown tint, and her green eyes were glowing, shining in the light of the sunset. She was wearing a stunning green summer dress, her flowing black hair pulled back into a side ponytail. She, too, had decided to brave the stiletto heel. I chuckled.
“You, too?” I asked, holding up my foot gracefully.
“Ha, yeah,” she muttered in a joking voice. “If I don’t die, I’m going to have major blisters.”
I laughed. “So where’s . . . uh . . .?”
“Skylar’s inside,” she said, her voice automatically changing to a tone full of a weird fusion of anger and irritation. “He’s going to drive us in the convertible.”
“Lamo isn’t too happy I’m coming, is he?” I asked guiltily. “Figures. That’s how most guys with tons of money are.”
Pa shook her head, but smiled slightly. “No. He isn’t happy. But I don’t think you’re the main reason. I think he already knows.”
“About Ricky?” I whispered so quietly that Pa had to lean in and I had to repeat myself. “How could he? You didn’t say anything, did you?”
She looked at me guiltily. “He asked me where I ran off to last night, and I told him I went to your house. I guess he just assumed I was with your brother.”
“Well, you were, but he shouldn’t have had a way to find that out . . .” I trailed off, suddenly seeing a flash of blackened eyes staring at me. I blinked and they were gone, leaving me in front of Pa’s apartment standing there dumbfounded.
“I don’t know,” she answered. “Come on in,” she added nervously. “We won’t be leaving for about another ten minutes or so.”
“If that’s all right,” I added.
She nodded and smiled, closing her eyes a little. “You’re always welcome here, D.”
“Thanks, Pa,” I replied as I followed her into her house. It looked exactly the same as it had the last time I’d visited her a few months ago. Everything in the front room was green.
Skylar was the only thing in that entire front room besides me that wasn’t green.
“Hello,” he said sharply, extending his hand toward mine. I shook it, and found it extremely difficult to not pull away when he touched me. His hand was burning, surging with heat that was actually quite uncomfortable. I didn’t want to be rude by pulling away, but I didn’t want to hold on and have my skin burn off, either.
“My name’s Dessa,” I told him as he ran his strong hand through his spiked blond hair. He had the most striking eyes—a gorgeously frightening reddish orange, burning like the flames of his soul—that seemed to petrify me.
“Yes, Pa’s mentioned you quite a few times,” he answered, his voice sounding mildly amused as he wrapped his arm around Pa’s waist as she walked up next to him obediently. I could see the lost look in her eyes as he gazed down on her like she was his property and not his fiancé, and I felt the undying urge to punch him in the mouth.
“Has she?” I countered back just as sharply, measuring his reaction, “I trust she told you things to hold me in good favor.”
“She certainly tried,” he retorted, his voice soft and deadly. He dusted off the cuffs of his business jacket after I released his hand.
I scoffed. What a jerk.
“Shouldn’t we get going?” Pa asked nervously at Skylar’s side. He looked down at her and smiled slightly.
“Of course,” he said in a tone that was—I guess—supposed to be kind and endearing (it didn’t work at all). Pa unlatched her tiny body from Skylar’s, heading in front of him to stand next to me. She clutched my hand and looked at me.
The look in her eyes spelled “fear” and “anguish” like there was no tomorrow. I didn’t know what to do to calm her. There was nothing I could do except be there and stand beside her.
Skylar went out ahead of us to his Ferrari, while Pa and I stayed just inside the door, hidden perfectly in the shadows of the house.
“I’m a little nervous, D,” she confessed.
I chuckled. “It’s kind of obvious, Pa,” I said back, trying to keep the smile off my face. “Just be yourself around him. Don’t submit to him; that’s what he wants. You need to be yourself. If he doesn’t love the real ‘you,’ then you need to steer clear of him.”
“I’m trying,” she literally begged. “D, I don’t know what else to do. The only thing I could think of was having you come with us so you could see what he’s like.”
“Well, what do you plan to say to him?” I asked, glancing furtively out the window. Skylar was now in the Ferrari, turning the key in the ignition.
“I’m gonna tell him that things aren’t working out for me. I’ll tell him how I feel about Ricky,”—her voice dropped to a whisper—“and about my relationship with Ricky, too.”
“Good,” I said supportively, gently patting her shoulder. “It’ll all be fine. I’ll even go to the bar for a few seconds if you guys wanna be alone when you talk.”
“Thanks, D,” she said gratefully, pulling me into a hug. A horn honked obnoxiously at us. “Coming!” Pa yelled out to the car.
“Wow. What a lame, egocentric piece of—” I muttered.
“D!” Pa shouted appraisingly.
“What? It’s true,” I replied. She laughed a little. “Come on, let’s go.”
“’Kay,” she murmured, walking out with me to the car. I purposefully walked slow, holding Pa back with my hand. Skylar glared at me through the window, his red eyes piercing my very soul as he stared at me.
I threw myself into the cramped back seat and Pa reluctantly took the front, her nervous green eyes gazing back at me.
Pa was a free spirit, and the fact that Skylar was reigning her in seemed almost like a crime against life itself.
The entire car ride to the restaurant was silence. Nothing. No sounds whatsoever. Not even the freaking radio was playing.
Skylar stared angrily out the windshield—I was surprised he didn’t just give in to his anger and send us plowing into a fricken tree—and continued to glance at me through the rearview mirror. Every time he looked I met his gaze evenly, trying to ignore
the strange effect his flaming eyes had on me.
Pa was fidgeting all over the place, her legs bouncing up and down in anxiety. Her fingers always found her hair somehow and she insisted on playing with it, twisting the strands this way and that to keep herself occupied.
I just sat there, completely and utterly irritated out of my mind. This was getting ridiculous. Just when I was about to shout at Skylar to go die in a corner, we pulled up to the restaurant.
It was a place called Ponderosa or something; some sort of steak house. I didn’t really know or care, but I think that’s what it was called. I didn’t eat anything anyway, so it didn’t matter where we went.
The waiter guy led us to a booth pretty far from the bar, which was good for me. I was away from hearing distance, so Skylar and Pa could have time to argue on their own without me up their asses about it.
Skylar and Pa sat on opposite sides of the booth, and I sat beside Pa, leaving Skylar by himself on the other side, scowling openly in my direction.
Our waiter came up to us, his clipboard in hand. He had this randomly big mustache that didn’t even make sense, and his brown eyes were really big and never left Skylar’s face, even when he was asking my and Pa’s order.
“Hello, everyone.”
I smiled. No wonder he kept staring at Skylar. The lisp and tone in his voice was enough; he was gay.
“Hi,” I said cheerily up at him. He beamed back at me, his hand on his hip.
“My name’s Adam and I’ll be your server for today,” he said in a very peppy and girly sounding voice. I loved how the huge mustache didn’t at all go with his sexual orientation—I found that funny, and I was sure Ricky would have laughed, too.
Pa was smiling at him as well, and Skylar looked oddly uncomfortable, which made me exceedingly anxious to see what Adam would say to him.
“What can I get you?” he asked me happily.
I smiled, handing the menu to him. “Just get me whatever you feel tastes the best around here.”
He beamed at me. “All right, so that makes one New York Strip. And for you, Miss?” he asked, motioning toward Pa.
Pa furrowed her eyebrows for a moment and then met Adam’s eyes. “I’ll have the Teriyaki Chicken, please,” she said, handing him the menu. Adam marked it on his tablet with a smile and turned to face Skylar, who was studiously ignoring all three of us.
Poison Page 11
