A Need So Beautiful

by Suzanne Young

  She shrugs. “If you weren’t blond, it probably wouldn’t be so noticable. But because you are, it looks a bit tragic. Ready?”

  “Can I shower first?”

  Sarah groans. “Fine, but hurry up. My driver’s waiting outside and he’s a total bastard when I take too long.” She reaches over to grab the greasy Frankie’s bag off my bed and brushes the crumbs into it. And again, I resent the Need. I resent how it controls who I can help. But no matter what it makes me do, this is my life. And I want to get back to living it.

  I stand naked and stare into the full-length mirror in my bathroom, horror on my face. All of the skin on my shoulder is gone. There’s no blood. No scab. Just . . . gold. A golden glow from the spot where Harlin used to kiss me. Massage me.

  I fight back the tears but they leak out anyway. I don’t want to believe in the Forgotten, but this, whatever it is, isn’t right. It’s not . . . human. I cover my mouth with my palm, trying to quiet the sobs.

  This can be fixed. I’ll go to Monroe and I’ll demand that he fix it. He’s a doctor. He won’t let this happen to me. Not if I beg. I close my eyes, letting a tiny bit of calm stretch over me.

  There’s a knock at the door and I jump.

  “Hurry up,” Sarah calls. “Alex just got home from school and he’s starting to piss me off out here.”

  “One sec,” I answer automatically. When Sarah’s here, I have to forget about this. I have to cover it up. I’m still Charlotte Cassidy. I’m still me.

  I turn on the hot water. I can’t wash where my stitches are, and I’m scared to get water on my . . . shoulder. So I reach my hand in and grab the washcloth, wetting it and then running it under my arms. I wash myself like this and then use my fingers to comb my hair, trying to work out the dried blood. When I’m finished, I turn off the water. It’s not great, but it’s better.

  I finish up with brushing my teeth and then gather the top of my hair into a barrette to cover the stitches. Lip gloss. Earrings. I look almost normal as I slide my arms into my fleece robe, because I certainly can’t walk out in a towel. Not when part of me is missing.

  Quietly, I creak open the bathroom door and peer out. Down the hall I can see Sarah’s school uniform, the skirt too short, as she leans against the kitchen counter, bitching at Alex. They’re arguing about whether or not her bag is a knockoff. It’s definitely not. Alex just likes to irritate her.

  I tiptoe out and then bolt for my room, closing the door and locking it so I can get dressed. I tear through my closet, needing something thick enough to hide the light. I find a gray wool sweater and slip it over my head. Then I grab some jeans and pull them on before stuffing my feet into a pair of boots. A little overdressed for a semi-warm fall day, but it’ll do.

  One more glance in the mirror, and then I make my way to the kitchen. Sarah turns and sees me.

  “Jesus, Charlotte. Going hiking on Mount Hood?”

  Alex leans over the counter and laughs at Sarah’s joke as I step out of the hallway.

  “Oh, shut up,” I say, and grab a piece of toast from Alex’s plate.

  “You’re cranky,” he says. “And after I let you sleep in all day. Not very nice. Besides, why were you sneaking out barefoot this morning?”

  “What?” Sarah asks, glaring at me.

  I stiffen. So he did notice. Well, nice job, Alex. “I think I was still half-asleep,” I say. “I came back and crashed.”

  “So mysterious,” Sarah mutters, and straightens up. “By the way, Harlin called me while you were in the shower. Wants to come meet us. But I told him we’d be at my house and he could pick you up later.”

  “Harlin?” I suddenly realize that I miss him. Like, ache-in-my-chest miss him.

  “Uh, yeah. Harlin. You know, that guy you hook up with all the time? The misunderstood bad-boy type?” She laughs.

  Alex joins in the pretend explanation. “He’s hot, sort of moody. Always wears a motorcycle jacket. Any of this ringing a bell?”

  I smile. “Sounds vaguely familiar.” I toss the half-eaten toast down on Alex’s plate as he scoffs. “Now, if you two comedians are done?”

  “Great, let’s go.” Sarah takes me by the arm as I wave good-bye to Alex. When we’re out in the hallway, Sarah turns to me. “I need your help,” she says.

  “With?”

  “I want you to go through my closet with me. I’m looking for the perfect screw-you dress to wear to this weekend’s charity ball.”

  “Charity ball? Glad you’re going for the right reasons.”

  She flashes a devilish smile. “What better reason than revenge?”

  Chapter 10

  Sarah lives on the twenty-first floor of a high-rise condo next to the river. It’s posh and overpriced, but then again, it’s also part of her father’s multimillion-dollar real estate enterprise. The minute we walk in, she drags me to her room. I asked to borrow her phone so that I could call Harlin, but Sarah said I’d have to wait until after we played dress-up. She didn’t want my hormones interfering with my train of thought.

  “Okay,” I say, lying across the red chaise at the end of her bed. “Let’s get this over with.” Sarah goes into her closet—which is as big as my entire bedroom—and pulls out an armful of dresses. I groan. “Can I call Harlin now?”

  “No.” She puts little effort into sympathizing with me missing my boyfriend. “This?” She puts a short yellow dress against her.

  “Not unless you’re trying to be Big Bird.”

  “Hate you.” She throws the yellow dress back toward her closet and starts fingering through the other garments in her arms. When I see she’s properly distracted by her friends Chanel, Dior, and Dolce & Gabbana, I reach over and grab the phone off her dresser. It’s already ringing by the time she looks over.

  Sorry, I mouth, and then smile as I hold the phone to my ear. She sighs loudly and tosses the pile of dresses on me before going back into her closet. I laugh and lay them out on her bed.

  “So you’re alive?” Harlin’s voice is low and very controlled. It reminds me of the way he talks to his mother. I don’t like it.

  “I meant to call, but—”

  “I talked to Alex a hundred times this morning, but you couldn’t call me back? I was worried. I thought you’d slipped into a coma or something.”

  “Comforting thought.”

  “It’s not funny. You got hit by a car last night.”

  “Is that what happened? I couldn’t remember. Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re lucky I’m not. I’d freaking spank you in front of your friends.”

  “Mmm . . .”

  Harlin laughs. “Knock it off, smartass. Now where are you?”

  I relax back onto the chaise, happy to hear Harlin again, the way he is with me. Sweet. Tender. “I’m at Sarah’s. She’s shopping in her closet for a charity dress.”

  “Ah. Doing her part for mankind wouldn’t mean nearly as much without a fancy dress.”

  “Shut up, Harlin,” Sarah calls from inside her closet even though she can’t hear him.

  “She’s such a sweet girl.” Harlin laughs. “Amazing manners!”

  “No work today?” I ask.

  “Called in. Thought I should be around to take care of you. Obviously you don’t need me, though.”

  “Maybe I do,” I say, dropping my voice. I want to see him, be near him. I feel the craving for him grow inside me. “What are you doing right now?”

  “You sound really curious, Charlotte,” he says, picking up on my tone. “You sure you don’t want to avoid me a little longer? They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.”

  My lips pull into a pout. “Are you going to be mean?” I know that things must be tough for Harlin lately. I have yet to come up with a good excuse for my Needs, and I know it’s making him crazy, but what can I do? I don’t want to lose him. And after hearing about the Forgotten, I know I can’t tell him. Not until I figure out a way to deal with it.

  He exhales. “No, baby. I’m sorry for being an idiot.
Yes. I’d love to see you. Can I come pick you up?” The familiar warmth in his voice sends tingles down my spine.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

  I hang up, and just then Sarah walks out of her closet with a delicious knee-length white dress. The kind of dress that turns heads. She presses it against her. “What do you think of this one?”

  “Sinful.”

  “Perfect!”

  I wait, my head against the back of the chaise, as Sarah tries it on and pairs it with earrings and a clutch.

  “Mr. Wonderful coming to pick you up?” she asks, glancing over her shoulder as she poses in front of her full-length mirror. When I smile, she rolls her eyes. “I’d disapprove of you two spending so much time together,” she says, turning back to examine her reflection. “But I know he’s good in bed.” She grins deviously and meets my eyes in the mirror. “He is, right?”

  “So not going there.” I stand up and stretch my arms over my head, my body still sore from the accident.

  “You don’t have to answer,” Sarah says, like it doesn’t matter. “I can tell by that stupid look on your face.”

  “You look really hot in that dress,” I say, both to change the subject and because it’s true.

  “I know, right?” She smiles and then strolls over to her dresser and opens the top drawer. She takes out a small shopping bag and then brings it over, holding it out to me. “For you. And don’t be all, ‘Oh, I can’t accept it.’ That pisses me off.”

  I feel awful. The only thing I can offer her as a friend is the Need, a way to help her. But instead it sent me to an abandoned warehouse. “I can’t accept it,” I repeat, mocking her voice.

  She groans and shoves it into my hands. “Take it! Did you just listen to me cry about giving a blow job?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  “Did you judge me and call me a slut?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Exactly.” She leaves the bag in my hands. “And there aren’t many friends who wouldn’t have at least thought it. You didn’t. That’s why I love your complicated ass. Now stop being modest and open it.”

  “If it’s a hat I’m beating you with it,” I murmur. But as I reach in my hand closes on something smaller. A box.

  I pull it out and stare at the jewelry box covered in maroon fabric. “Are you proposing?” I ask.

  “No. You’d leave me for Harlin.” She smiles. “Now shut up and look at it.”

  I flick open the box and my heart thumps loudly. “Earrings?” I ask when I see them. They are simple, glittering hoops, just like the ones she has on now. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

  “For the charity ball,” she says, like I already knew this. “You and Harlin are coming on Friday night. Did I forget to mention it?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Yes. Yes, you did.”

  “Sorry.” She shrugs. “Pick out a dress before Harlin gets here.” She motions toward her closet. “Something to go with the earrings. Oh, and PS, don’t wear anything trashy. Daddy hates that.”

  I start laughing. First, I’d never wear anything trashy. And second, because it’s hilarious when she calls her stiff, stuffed-suit father Daddy. “Deal.”

  Sarah grabs my arm and we rummage through her designer labels, my cheeks pink from embarrassment, but also gratitude. As soon as she starts holding dresses against me, I realize that there’s no way I can pull off a formal dress. Not with glowing skin. And what if the Need hits me when I’m there?

  Anxiety is just about to overtake me when Sarah holds up the perfect dress. “This is it.” The shimmery navy fabric is knee length and fitted without being too tight. It’s paired with a matching jacket that both tones it down and adds class. Not to mention it’ll cover my shoulder. I think I can actually get away with wearing it.

  “Well?” Sarah asks, pushing it toward me. “Try it on.”

  “Uh . . .” I glance back into her room. I can’t change here. I can’t let her see. “It’ll fit,” I say. “And I should go. Harlin’s probably waiting downstairs.” I chew on my lip. “He’s not happy with me right now.”

  “He’s fine.”

  I hope she’s right. “Are you sure I should borrow this?” I ask, touching the silky fabric. “Maybe I can borrow something from Mercy.”

  “Not that kind of event, Charlotte,” she sings, folding the dress over her arm. “I’ll have my driver drop it off at your place. I don’t want you taking it on a motorcycle. Now, run off and catch your Romeo. But please tell him that it’s black tie. And that means no leather.”

  I thank her profusely before backing away, thinking again how perfect the dress will be. But as I leave her place, I feel the questions building again. I’ve been putting them out of my mind, trying to be a friend. Trying to have a normal life.

  I’m about to burst into tears again when I get to the outer doors and see Harlin waiting at the curb on his motorcycle. He looks over just as I see him, a soft smile on his lips. He holds out his hand to me, and again, I feel like I can breathe. I rush out to meet him.

  “Not a chance,” Harlin laughs as we climb off his bike in front of his apartment. He looks tired from staying out late with me, or maybe it’s from worry. His dark hair is hanging near his eyes and his bristled chin has gotten scruffier. Which is actually a look that I like, so I don’t mind.

  “Please go with me?”

  “Charlotte,” he says. “Since when do you like Sarah’s high-society charity events? And since when do you think I do?” He’s smiling at me, his hazel eyes amused and curious.

  I shrug. “I don’t. But she invited us and I’ll feel bad if we don’t go.” I squeeze his hand. “Besides, it might be cool to hang out together all dressed up.”

  “Will there be a band?”

  “Maybe.”

  His dimples deepen. “So you’ll save me a dance?”

  “Every one of them.” He watches me for a long moment before exhaling. “Okay, but I’m not shaving.”

  I grin. “I’m glad.”

  He leans forward to give me a quick kiss. “I know. By the way,” he says, reaching into his pocket to take something out. “I saw this and thought of you.”

  “A present?” I grin and snatch it out of his hand. He’s laughing, but when I look down, I gasp.

  “It’s pretty, right?” he asks, reaching over to brush a strand of my hair behind my ear.

  “Yeah,” I say without looking away. In my palm is a clear stone, and inside it is a small ivory statuette. A guardian angel.

  “Figured if you’re going to be out at night getting hit by cars, you might as well have some backup.”

  I look at him, feeling stunned. Like this is some sort of sign. But as I stare at Harlin, his mouth curved in a confident grin, I don’t care about signs. I get on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my mouth to his.

  We stand there, kissing in the middle of the sidewalk in front of his building. But I don’t notice anyone but him. I’m taken in by the feel of him, the smell, the beauty. Harlin is like my drug—my constant need.

  “I love you,” I murmur.

  His hands rest on my hips. “Show me,” he says with a soft smile, and then pulls me inside.

  Harlin’s brothers are gone and we’re in his room, backed against the door. He kisses at my neck as I pull at his shirt. I yank it over his head and then he’s against me again, kissing me hard.

  Harlin’s hand slides beneath my heavy sweater as I work on undoing his belt. When he pushes my bra strap off my shoulder, I freeze.

  What was I thinking? I’m missing a huge patch of skin and if Harlin sees—oh, God.

  I push his hand away and shake my head. “I can’t,” I say, trying to catch my breath.

  “What?” He doesn’t seem to understand and comes back toward my mouth, kissing me.

  “Stop,” I say softly.

  He does. Harlin’s eyes are glassy with desire as he moves back, his belt nearly undone and his shirt off. “
Charlotte,” he says, his voice raspy, “if you’re not in the mood, I understand. But if . . . things have changed.” He pulls his eyebrows together as he considers his words.

  Harlin is never one to be insecure, but the last few months, I’ve been gone a lot. I knew he’d start wondering sooner or later. This was what I was afraid of.

  “My feelings haven’t changed. It’s nothing like that.” I put my hands on his chest and then hug myself to him. “I . . . I . . .” I’m a freak? I’m not sure I’m human anymore? What can I say? “I have to go somewhere right now. Can we talk about this later?”

  I glance up to see him looking past me, at the door. “Sure,” he says with a nod. “Whenever you can pencil me in.” His jaw’s tight and the expression on his face is cold. But I can’t explain to him about my shoulder. I don’t even know what it is.

  “Harlin—”

  “Did you really get hit by a car?”

  My eyes snap to his, but he won’t look at me. “What?”

  “You’re so secretive. Did you really get hit by a car?”

  “Yes.”

  He swallows hard. Then he looks at me, his eyes troubled. “You’re lying to me about something, Charlotte. I know you are.”

  I can’t answer. I want to tell him everything. I’m thinking that maybe I should try. “It’s not what you think,” I start. “When I saw Monroe, he—”

  And it’s like I’m punched in the gut. A crushing pain fills my belly and I double over, falling to my knees on the floor. Harlin yells my name, but I can’t answer. The room is spinning. I feel like I’m dying.

  I collapse on my side, unable to get any air. I claw at my throat and feel Harlin next to me, trying to hold me. I don’t know what’s happening. This is new and I’m terrified.

  It’s not a Need.

  Harlin has to open a window, get more oxygen in the room. I’m suffocating. I turn over on my side and reach my hand out, stretching for the glass across the room.

  A scream gets caught in my throat. On the other side of Harlin’s window, crouched down on the fire escape with her hand on the glass, is Onika—the woman in black. Her coat and boots are slick as rain starts to pour down around her. She smiles at me as she traces her gloved finger down the window. And then my vision blurs and I go dark.