Valentine Kisses: A Kiss to Last a Lifetime

by Abigail Drake

  “And you are Lola Flannigan, owner of this fine establishment?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  I wrapped him in a cape and led him over to the sink. He sank into the leather chair and leaned back, studying my face. I pumped shampoo onto my hands and began to wash his hair, letting my nails graze his scalp through my gloves and enjoying the warmth of his body as I pressed against his arm. His eyes closed and he let out a soft sigh. I may have washed his hair a few times more than necessary, and I did a very thorough conditioning treatment, too. By the time I was done, my apron was soaked, my cheeks flushed, and I had an almost uncontrollable urge to touch every single part of him the way I’d just touched his hair.

  I took off the wet apron before it could ruin my dress. When I saw the way his eyes widened at the sight of my body encased in the tight, blue sheath, I decided to forgo getting a new apron for the rest of this appointment.

  “A bit off the top, please,” he said, clearing his throat as I towel dried his hair and seated him. His cheeks were as flushed as mine, and his breathing uneven. I gave him a knowing smile.

  “That’s all you want, Mr. Slade? Are you sure about that?”

  He looked at me, and, it was like he really saw me. Not the blonde hair, and the big boobs, and the tight dress. He saw me. A strange sensation, and one I really liked. Maybe I wouldn’t be all alone this Valentine’s Day. Suddenly, things were looking up.

  The bell above the door rang, and a woman entered. She had short brown hair, sallow skin, and wore black, baggy clothes that did nothing for her figure. She would have looked much better with highlights and the right make-up, but she didn’t seem like the type who’d appreciate any helpful beauty advice.

  “May I help you?” I asked, sneaking a look at the clock. Five to eight. “We’ll be closing in a few minutes, but I could squeeze you in tomorrow.”

  As much as I hated to turn away a customer, I had ulterior motives. I was already hoping Morgan might ask me out for a drink or coffee or a wild sexual encounter once we finished up. A girl could dream, right?

  She gave me a hostile glare. “I am with him.”

  I snuck a glance at Morgan. No ring on his finger, and he didn’t seem married, but I hadn’t asked. His eyes met mine in the mirror.

  “Nadia is my…work colleague.”

  “Oh.” I gave him a smile, setting back to work, but when another man walked in, warning bells began buzzing in my head. He paused by the door, and although I couldn’t tell for sure, it looked like he was locking us inside the shop.

  “Hey. What are you doing?” I asked, panic rising in my chest.

  Morgan folded his hands on his lap, so calm he almost seemed bored. “That is Cliff. Also, a colleague of mine.”

  Cliff, dressed like Nadia, had dark straight hair, skin the color of café au lait, and a goatee. He didn’t even glance in my direction. He kept his gaze trained on the window of the shop, scanning the sidewalk and watching each passerby. I really hoped he wasn’t looking for a getaway car. Maria hadn’t taken our cash with her when she left. The fat bank deposit envelope sat on the counter, in clear sight of everyone in the shop. I swallowed hard. The sooner I finished with Morgan Slade, and his gang of not-so-merry associates, the better. I started to trim his hair again, this time with trembling hands.

  His attention went to the newspaper clipping mounted on the wall. “Struck by lightning over and over again, and not a single injury. How does that happen?”

  I was surprised he could read the article from the chair. I could barely see the words close up, but far too vain to put on reading glasses.

  “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Do you believe in coincidences?”

  I paused, my hands just above his head, my scissors gleaming in the bright lights of the shop. Suddenly, this moment, this answer, took on significant importance.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “Neither do I.” He gave me a long, steady look. “Miss Flannigan, could you please remove your shoes? I would very much like to see your feet.”

  I recoiled in shock. These guys hadn’t come here to rob me. Someone must have blabbed to them about my deformity, and now they wanted to see it, like I was some kind of circus freak.

  I put down my scissors and grabbed my phone, ready to call 911 if necessary. “Get out of my shop. Now.”

  “I am afraid I must insist on seeing your feet first.”

  “It’s not going to happen.”

  He reached for me. I jumped backward and right into Nadia. She grabbed me by the upper arms and held me tight. Morgan snatched my phone and pocketed it. Cliff stayed by the door. He looked upset.

  “You need to hurry, sir,” he said.

  “I realize that, Cliff.” There was an edge of desperation to Morgan’s voice. He put his hand on my shoulder. “I will not harm you. I promise.”

  Clearly he didn’t expect an argument. Morgan Slade seemed like the kind of man used to giving commands and expecting them to be followed. He was in for a surprise.

  “No. I’ve dealt with you fetish guys before. It didn’t end well.”

  I tried to twist out of Nadia’s grip, but that wench was strong. She pulled me into the chair Morgan had just vacated and held me there. He tried to grab my foot, but I kicked out, narrowly missing his shin.

  “This would be much easier if you just cooperated.”

  I tried to kick him again. “Sorry to make things difficult for you, but you should get out of here before I hurt you. For real.”

  He tilted his head to one side. “How do you intend to hurt me? Do you have a rather shocking secret, Lola?”

  I gasped as he reached for my hand. With his eyes locked on mine, he slowly removed my glove. I waited for the inevitable crackling noise and screams of pain, but nothing happened. I looked up at him in surprise, and he lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing the back. Very European of him, but his manners did little to impress me at the moment. He smiled, and pulled off the other glove as well.

  “You cannot hurt me, Lola. I am immune.”

  Distracted, I didn’t even notice that he’d grabbed my foot again until he began sliding off my satin Christian Louboutin shoe. The heels were four inches high and a gorgeous electric blue. I’d saved for months to buy them. Although my deformity kept me from wearing anything with an open toe, an absolute tragedy, my feet were still small and narrow enough that I could fit into a normal shoe. Something to be grateful for, I guess, but the last thing I wanted was for my secret to be exposed in a room full of strangers.

  I screamed when I realized what Morgan was doing, and tried to pull away, but he held me firmly by the ankle and tugged my shoe off. Nadia stared down at my foot, pure joy lighting up her plain features.

  “It is her,” she said.

  Morgan shook his head in disbelief. “I cannot believe it.”

  I tried to hide my foot behind my other leg, but it was useless. They’d already seen it.

  “It’s not very nice to come in here and make fun of a person’s birth defect,” I said, humiliation staining my cheeks.

  Morgan slid his hand down my leg and removed the other shoe. “Birth defect? Is that what you think this is?” He should his head sadly. “This doesn’t make you less, Lola. It makes you more. It makes you…special.”

  I looked down at my feet, wrinkling my nose in disgust. It didn’t make me feel special. It made me feel awful. I turned my face away, very close to tears and unable to look at their ugliness another minute.

  “Can I get up please?” I sniffed for dramatic effect, wanting to make them think they’d defeated me.

  Morgan hesitated only for a second before nodding to Nadia. “Release her,” he said.

  As soon as she let go of me, I turned and grabbed her with my bare hands. I never gave up, and wasn’t above fighting dirty. Morgan might have been immune to the almighty power of my hands, but Nadia was not. She shrieked and her body jerked in an involuntary spasm before falling to the floor. I jumped over her in my bare
feet and ran fast as I could toward the back exit of the shop.

  Fast, but not fast enough. Morgan’s strong arm encircled me from behind as he lifted me off my feet.

  “Stop it,” he said, his mouth close to my ear. “We are not here to hurt you. I told you that already.”

  I fought and pushed against him, but he held me tight. “Why are you doing this?”

  The sound of glass breaking in the front of my shop caused me to jerk in surprise, and Morgan to loosen his grip. Cliff ran toward us, a gun in his hand.

  “They found us,” he said, glancing over his shoulder. “We have to go. Now.”

  “Who found us? What are you talking about?” I asked as Cliff helped Nadia to her feet. Morgan had my shoes in one hand and my arm in the other.

  “You are in great danger, Lola. Is there a back exit?”

  I was about to respond when the door to the shop burst open and a three armed men walked inside. Dressed completely in black, they had masks covering their faces. I caught a glimpse of them in the mirror by the entrance. They couldn’t see us yet, but I could see them. When one of them turned his head, his eyes flashed, bright red and glowing.

  Guns and freaky red eyes? I made my decision in an instant.

  “Follow me.”

  As I opened the door to the back hallway, gunfire rang out behind us. Cliff screamed as blood spurted from a leg wound. Nadia, still woozy from the zapping I’d given her, tried to drag him to safety. Morgan pushed me toward the door, covering my head.

  “They aren’t going to make it,” I said.

  “Get outside,” he shouted.

  I ran for the door, but on the way saw the breaker box. I didn’t hesitate. I reached up and touched it, sending out a surge which shut off all the electricity in the shop. Probably the rest of the block as well.

  Morgan grinned, his white teeth gleaming in the dark interior of the narrow hallway as he hauled Cliff behind him. Nadia followed with her gun drawn.

  “Clever girl.”

  We snuck out to the parking lot. Cliff, his face pale and drawn, leaned heavily on Nadia. I closed the door and pulled a dumpster over to block it. Morgan joined me and together we slid it in front of the exit. Just as we got it in place, we heard pounding and muffled voices.

  “We need to split up. Nadia, take Cliff and get him help. Lola, come with me.”

  I didn’t argue. Morgan seemed the safest bet at the moment, and at least he wasn’t shooting at me. I slipped into my heels and Morgan grabbed my hand.

  “Can you run in those?”

  “I can manage.”

  I was being humble. I could have out-jogged just about anyone in heels. Had it been an Olympic sport, I would have been a gold medalist. Morgan didn’t realize he stood in the presence of greatness.

  “Let’s go.”

  We snuck through alleys and back streets as the city grew dark. Once Morgan thought he heard someone approaching. He pushed me against a wall, protectively pressing my body with his.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked. A logical question. It was a cold night in February and I had on nothing but a tiny, strapless dress. A normal girl would have been freezing, but I’d never been normal.

  “I’m fine. Who were those men?” I asked softly, trying to catch my breath.

  Morgan wiped a smudge of dirt off my cheek. “They were looking for you. I am very glad we got there first.”

  “Their eyes were red.”

  “Yes.”

  “Can you explain, please?”

  He looked up and down the dark alley, making sure the coast was clear. “Later,” he said, grabbing my hand.

  He led me straight to the warehouse district. It had to be close to midnight and the streets were deserted. We’d been walking for hours.

  Morgan took out of strip of cloth. “I have to cover your eyes.”

  I waved my hands at him. “Fine. Blindfold me. Tie me up. Drug me. Whatever. I really need to sit down.”

  Morgan covered my eyes with the cloth, tying it carefully. Then he lifted me into his arms and carried me the rest of the way. I yawned and leaned my cheek against his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  “Maria was wrong.”

  “About what?”

  “My judgment. It isn’t so bad after all.”

  He grunted. I tried to stay awake, but my eyes felt like lead. Morgan hadn’t needed the blindfold. I’d fallen fast asleep long before we even reached our destination.

  #

  I woke up on a narrow cot covered in an itchy wool blanket. A dull headache had taken root, making me feel fuzzy and strange. In the dim light, I could just make out my pretty blue shoes on the floor next to me, dirty and scuffed.

  Poor shoes. They hadn’t deserved the treatment I’d given them last night. It made me want to cry.

  I sensed someone nearby and realized I wasn’t alone. Morgan sat in a chair, watching me, a tray of food by his side. I stared at him in the semi-darkness. I had a lot of questions to ask him, but started with the one that bothered me most.

  “Why did you want to see my feet?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned forward and began unlacing his shoes. When he pulled off his socks, he wiggled his toes. All twelve of them.

  I let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a gasp, as my head continued to pound. “You’re deformed, too.”

  “It is not a deformity, Lola,” he said, in a gentle and reassuring tone. “Where we come from, it’s perfectly normal.”

  “I’m from Pittsburgh.”

  I frowned at him and he laughed, a rich, deep sound that sent ripples of happiness all over my body. I’d never experienced anything like it. Although pleasurable, it worried me.

  “Pittsburgh? Not quite.”

  He gave me a wry smile, and something about his smile set me off. He seemed a bit too sure of himself. I sat up and attempted to straighten my hair and my clothing, suddenly in a bit of a snit.

  “You know nothing about me,” I huffed.

  He acted remarkably unconcerned, and just continued talking in the same calm, even voice. “On the contrary. I know more about you than you know about yourself.”

  My headache intensified, getting worse by the minute. “What do you mean?”

  “I shall explain that to you shortly.” He brought his chair closer and began to rub my temples. “But let’s start with this. Your head aches because you expended energy to short out that fuse box. Brilliant thinking, by the way. It gave us the time we needed to get out of there. We all could have been shot, if not for you.”

  I moaned softly, shutting my eyes and enjoying the magic touch of his fingertips. “Is Cliff okay?”

  “He’s fine. He’s resting in the infirmary.”

  “Infirmary? Where exactly are you from, Morgan?”

  “I shall explain it to you shortly. Feeling any better?” His fingers moved in tiny circles on my forehead, and my headache had nearly disappeared.

  “Yes. How did you know about the headaches?”

  “I know because you are exactly like your mother. You have a rare and special gift, Lola. We call it being a Channeller.”

  I snorted and pulled his hands away. “My mother, Muriel, a bar tending, chain smoking groupie, was always more interested in hooking up or getting high than in raising me. There’s nothing special about her, trust me, and we have nothing at all in common. I haven’t seen her in years.”

  “Your mother’s name was Callista. You were taken from her just a few months after you were born.”

  “Is this some kind of joke?”

  As a little girl, I’d always fantasized that there had been a cosmic mistake and Muriel wasn’t my mother. I think she’d always fantasized the same. Of course, Muriel also fantasized about having a threesome with two of the original members of Van Halen, so it wasn’t saying much.

  “No. Sadly, it is not.”

  “The fact that I’m not related to that woman is actually fantastic news,” I said. “But why would Murie
l steal me? She hated my guts.”

  “We have no idea. We only found you because we got lucky. We saw the newspaper article and knew it had to be you. It’s hard to believe you were living only a few miles away from us this whole time.”

  “Where is my mother?”

  Morgan’s face hardened. “She was killed a few months ago by the same men who tried to kill you.”

  “The ones with the freaky eyes?” I blew out a sigh, making my bangs flutter in the process. “I think you need to take a few giant steps back and start at the beginning, Mr. Slade.”

  “Perhaps it would be better to show you.”

  He led me out of the room, down a dimly lit hallway, and into a room the size of a concert hall. Open to the roof, it reminded me of one of those fancy hotels with the indoor courtyards, except there was nothing fancy about this place. They had turned the warehouse into six floors of what looked like icky little one room condos.

  People rushed back and forth, carrying things and working at computer stations. Everything had been painted greenish-grey, making people look jaundiced in the fluorescent lights. From a beautician’s standpoint, it was a coloring nightmare, but they didn’t seem bothered. They were building a large structure in the center of the room that looked like a gigantic, deformed, picture frame. It rose up at least twenty feet from the floor and tilted oddly on its side.

  Most wore jumpsuits in a bland shade of beige. A few sported dark shirts and pants like Nadia and Cliff. No one looked as polished as Morgan, and I stood out like a bright, electric blue beacon in my strapless dress.

  As soon as the people saw me, the room grew completely silent. It lasted only a few seconds, and then the cheering began. Everyone in the room acted like it was New Year’s Eve and the clock had just struck midnight. The only thing missing was champagne and a drunken man trying to grab my bum.

  “Bizarre,” I muttered to myself under my breath, but it was hard not to smile. Everyone seemed so genuinely happy.

  Morgan led me down the staircase, a triumphant grin on his face. I straightened my hair and checked to make sure my boobs were completely covered. I’d just woken up after experiencing the most traumatic event of my life and wasn’t quite prepared for a public appearance. The cheering and excitement confused me.