by Sarah Grimm
I have hair!
Everywhere!
Eyebrow hair I refuse to wax.
Pubic hair I refuse to trim.
Pale blonde – paler than before chemotherapy – hair on my head.
I really don’t want to lose any of it, but it’s all one length and stands straight out from my scalp in all directions. I have hair like a helmet! Isn’t that wonderful?
I cried in the salon chair, too. It was mortifying. I didn’t cry when the stylist cut my hair off before beginning chemo, but I do when she trims my new growth? She patted my shoulder, which somehow made it worse. Thankfully, Alison was there to tell me what a silly bitch I was being.
After the salon, we hit the stores, searching for the perfect outfit to wear to the concert. I found it, but I wasn’t nearly as excited by the clothes as I was by the necklace I stumbled upon on the way back to the car: a silver key on a delicate silver chain. I trembled as I held that key in my hand, even more as I attempted to secure it around my neck. I’d found it – the key from my dream.
What could it possibly mean?
Number of days since I decided to live: 35
Number of days until Blind Man’s Alibi concert: 7
Current level of panic: 7/10
FOUR
April 7
Three days after Joe Campbell and Blind Man’s Alibi pulled out of town, Emma sat in her favorite spot—the all glass room of her condo overlooking the city—and watched Alison flutter about in the kitchen. She’d been doing a lot of that today, fussing like a mama hen. Not that Emma was complaining since the fussing was accompanied by baking.
Emma loved desserts.
Especially Alison’s.
The most delicious scents wafted out of the kitchen, making her stomach grumble. Tempted to go see what Alison had in store for her today. She rose to her feet, picked up her nearly empty glass—which she had every intention of using as an excuse to disturb the master at work—and made it exactly two feet before Al returned from the kitchen.
Dark hair knotted at the back of her head, wearing a white chef coat over black slacks, she shot Emma a look. “I thought you were staying out of the kitchen.”
“I am.”
“Yeah?” Al cocked her head. “Is that why you’re standing there with your glass in your hand?”
“I was having a difficult time hearing you.”
“You were following the conversation just fine. You just wanted to snoop. You know I prefer to present the finished product. That way you get the full effect.”
When Emma frowned, Alison smiled. “You are so impatient! Now have a seat or you won’t get any and, let me tell you, these Crème Brûlée cupcakes are a personal best, if I do say so myself.”
She had the audacity to hold the plate of sweets high and to the right, effectively keeping Emma from getting a good look at them. But she could smell them, and they smelled heavenly.
Emma dropped into her chair.
Alison laughed softly. Then she placed her newest temptation in the center of the table and took her own seat, picking up the conversation where they’d left off. “I can’t believe he gave you the shirt off his back.”
Four giant cupcakes filled the plate, each piled high with what looked like vanilla frosting and caramel candy. Emma would have responded, but she was too busy salivating. She grabbed one off the plate, peeled away the fancy paper and took a bite, moaning softly as creamy custard sent her taste buds soaring.
“He really did that? You’re not pulling my leg?”
“Mmmm.” She nodded, then swiped her finger through the frosting and popped it in her mouth. “I think he expected me to return the favor.”
Alison choked on her cupcake. “You didn’t.”
Emma laughed at the shock on her friend’s face. She ate another bite before commenting. “What exactly is this deliciousness?”
“Crème Brûlée cake with vanilla bean cream cheese frosting, filled with vanilla custard and topped with caramelized candy. It’s good isn’t it?”
“Good?” She popped the last bite into her mouth and moaned aloud. “It’s better than sex.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“Because you’re getting it! It’s been so long, I can’t be certain, but I’m thinking these are better than the last sex I had.”
Alison laughed aloud. She slid Emma a long look. “Is it better than kissing Joe Campbell?”
“How do you know I kissed Joe Campbell?”
“You told me, silly. Something about how good he smelled and how his kisses made you want to take off all of your… Oh my God! You did, didn’t you? You returned the favor!”
“You’re not supposed to use what I say while under the influence of pain meds against me,” Emma said on a whisper of a laugh. “I didn’t return the favor. You saw me when I came home with my shirt still on my person.”
“And kissing Joe Campbell is…?”
“Way, way better than this cupcake.”
“That particular cupcake? Or the one you already ate?”
“Good question. Let me give this one a taste and I’ll let you know.”
Alison rolled her eyes as Emma pinched off a chunk and popped it in her mouth. “If you were any more addicted to sweets, I just might wonder if that was better than a kiss, but I’m certain it’s not.”
“It’s pretty close,” Emma argued, then chased the cupcake with chocolate milk.
“Sure it is. All kidding aside, what did you do when he took his shirt off?”
“I gave him my autograph. I put it on the back of his shoulder, right above my phone number.”
“You wrote on his skin?”
The shock on Alison’s face was priceless. “With a permanent marker.”
Shock gave way to laughter and suddenly they were both giggling like loons.
Alison sobered first. “Do you think he’ll call you?”
“No. No, I don’t think he will.”
“You’re so daring. I wish I had one tenth of your boldness.”
Emma sighed. “It wasn’t boldness it was…desperation.”
Al stared at her. “You didn’t want him to leave.”
“There’s just something about him. Not the fame or rock god thing… It’s something else.” The fact she’d gone all soft didn’t escape her. Emma shook it off. “Gah! Enough of this. He’s gone and I’m…” Being ridiculous. “Tell me about your weekend. How’s Kevin?”
All the color drained from Alison’s face right before Emma’s eyes. “Al, what is it? What’s the matter?”
“Kevin’s ah…he’s…”
“Did something happen?”
With tears in her eyes, she nodded. “You could say that.”
“What?”
Alison pulled something from her slacks pocket and set it on the table between them. A ring. A beautiful, antique diamond ring. “Kevin asked me to marry him.”
“That’s great! Oh my God, Alison, congratulations, I’m so happy for you!”
Al was definitely crying, she even wiped her white coat across the underside of her nose—so very out of character for her—leaving behind a swipe of flour.
Emma handed her a napkin. “Why isn’t the ring on your finger? Talk to me.”
“He wants to marry me.”
“You said yes, right? Alison?”
“He took me to The Detroit Shoreway, to a darling two story brick building. Well, it’s not darling yet, but it could be.” She stared down at the ring as silent tears continued down her face. “It’s for sale, Em. He got down on one knee right there on the sidewalk in front of it and proposed. Proposed we get married, and buy that damn building of all things. Move in upstairs and renovate the lower level for a pastry shop. Can you believe that?”
She could. Kevin was a great guy—smart, handsome, and completely devoted to Alison. After the hell Al had been through with her last boyfriend, she deserved that. Deserved to be happy. “That’s beautiful.”
“It’s horrible!”
<
br /> “Wait, what?”
“What is he thinking? We can’t afford that!”
“He’s a lawyer, Al. You’re a chef. You won’t struggle for long.”
“He’s a junior in his firm, just starting out. He’s got law school to pay off and me…I’m…” She was starting to hyperventilate. “I don’t know anything about running my own business. What if I screw it up? Then we’d have a building and a failing business and even more debt.”
Shit. Emma circled the table and pressed Alison’s head down toward her knees. “Breathe,” she coaxed. “Just breathe for a minute.”
Al grabbed a shuddering breath.
“Keep breathing.” Long calming strokes up and down her back seemed to help. Emma kept at it, even as Al’s breathing evened out. “You have a dream, Al. And you’re the best damn pastry chef in the city.”
“How would you know?
“I’m addicted to sweets, remember? And sometimes I have to feed that addiction when you’re not around.”
“You cheat on me with other bakers.”
Emma laughed aloud at the accusation in her friend’s voice. “I do. That’s how I know you’re the best. In fact, I believe in you so much, I’ll invest in your business. Hell, I’ll buy the damn building for you and—”
Alison straightened abruptly. “No.”
“You can live above it just like Kevin suggested and start your life together. The rest of your life without the—”
“No, Emma!”
She shook her head, not understanding Alison’s resistance. “Why not?”
Alison remained quiet, just looking at her with eyes rimmed in red and lightly swollen.
“Do you love him?”
“Of course I do!”
“You want to marry him?”
“Yes,” Alison replied softly.
“Then let me help you. You know I can afford it.” As a teenager Emma designed a ridiculous little app that became quite popular, earning her first million by sixteen. For some bizarre reason that was all it took to bring enough notoriety that her design work was highly sought after. With nothing but time on her hands while undergoing treatment, she was now a very wealthy woman. A fact she found both humorous and sad. “What am I going to do with all that money? It’s not like I can take it with me.”
Alison shook her head.
“Consider it a thank-you-for-always-being-there-for-me gift. You told him yes, right?”
“No.”
“You told him no?”
“You’re not buying me a building.”
“Alison, you’re all I have. You’re my family, my caretaker, my best friend.” Her cell phone chirped, indicating the battery was nearly dead but Emma ignored it. “I never would have made it this far without you. Everything you’ve done for me, all that you’ve promised to do for me, yet—”
“Please stop. I can’t… Not today.”
She covered Alison’s shaking hands with her own. “Let me do this one thing for you, please. You have a long life ahead of you. A beautiful man. Dreams, goals…a future.”
Alison surged to her feet. “I hate this!”
Emma didn’t need to ask what Alison hated. Hell, she wasn’t a big fan of life’s plan for her either. “It’s reality.”
“Reality sucks.”
“My reality sucks. Yours is at your feet waiting for you to grab hold of it with both hands.” Their gazes met and Emma sighed. “Where exactly is this building.”
Alison shook her head. “Nuh-uh.”
“You really like that word, don’t you? It doesn’t matter, I’ll just call Kevin. He’ll tell me.”
“No, he won’t.”
He probably wouldn’t. “Fine, I’ll drive around until I find it. Or a building I believe suitable. Then I’ll purchase it and leave it to you in my will.”
Alison looked so horrified by the thought that Emma laughed aloud.
After a moment, Alison was laughing, too. “You would.”
“I would!”
Alison fell silent. She stared down at the ring on the table, a look of such intense longing on her face that it brought a lump to Emma’s throat. “Please tell me you told him yes.”
She sighed. “I told him I’d think about it.”
Emma stared at her. “Oh my God. Oh my dear Lord, Al, are you out of your flippin’ mind? You’ve left that poor man hanging for two days! Two days! While you panicked and what? Baked for me?” She framed her friend’s face in her hands and made sure to overly enunciate her words. “Go. To. Him. Do you hear me? Put that gorgeous ring on your finger and go to him. Now! Before he spends even one more second doubting your feelings for him.”
“Kevin knows I love him.”
“Yeah? Enough that he doesn’t have to wonder what your answer will be?”
Alison pulled back, clearly shocked.
“Honey, he got down on one knee and bared his heart to you and you told him ‘maybe’?”
“Oh, shit, Em.”
“Yeah, that about covers it.”
They walked to the door together, Emma’s hand on Alison’s shoulder, urging her to move faster. Pushing her out the door, she smiled at her best friend. “Don’t forget to wipe the flour off your nose.”
Alison hugged her, turned for the elevator then spun back. “Wait, I have flour on my face? Let me back in so I can clean myself up!”
Emma closed the door.
“Emma! How could you?”
“Love you, honey!” She turned the lock on the door, fighting a smile. “Tell Kevin I said hello.”
Two hours later, Emma did something she never did. She remembered to plug in her cell phone.
The late morning sun had shifted, making her glass room too uncomfortable to enjoy, so she’d retreated to her office. But she didn’t have the urge to work right now. So she sat at her desk, staring at her screensaver, her thoughts on her best friend. She remembered the joy on Alison’s face as she rushed out the door, heading for the arms of her lover, and that brought a smile to Emma’s face. She was genuinely happy for them.
And also a little bit envious.
Maybe it was time for a change. Normally, she found the quiet of her condo restful. A comfortable haven away from the noise and chaos of the daily grind. But lately it had become almost too quiet and only served to remind her how alone she was. She was nearly done with her final design project. Perhaps it was time to get away.
Away from Cleveland and the places that reminded her of her mortality.
Away from days spent locked indoors.
It was time to embrace life. To travel. See the world. Live extravagantly.
No more yoga pants and tank tops.
No more chick flick marathons with nothing but a quart of Chubby Hubby to keep her company.
Hello midnight strolls through Tuscany, afternoons at the Louvre, and topless sunbathing in Brazil!
Mind made up, she woke up her laptop and logged onto the internet, nearly startling out of her seat when her phone charged enough to restart and alerted her to a new voice message with a loud chime.
“Definitely too quiet in here,” she mumbled, then picked up the phone and pushed the button to access her voicemail.
“Hey, Sunshine.” She stopped the recording and stared at her phone in shock. Another push of the button started the recording over.
“Hey, Sunshine.”
His voice sounded like it was pitched lower than normal, almost—dare she believe it—intimate.
Oh, God.
She felt like a teenager who’d just received her first phone call from a boy. She felt like a silly girl, something she’d never thought of herself as, because as she pressed the button one last time and his voice filled the room, goosebumps scattered across her flesh.
“Hey, Sunshine…that is if I have the right number. I had to use a bloody mirror as the wankers wouldn’t read it to me. Why do you have a computer greeting as your mobile message? I was hoping to hear your voice.”
She couldn’t be
lieve he’d actually called her. She needed to add his number to her contacts list. She needed to breathe, to get herself under control.
She needed to call him back!
Emma picked up the phone and punched the redial button. It rang endlessly then went to voicemail.
“This is Joe. You know what to do.”
“Hi, it’s Emma. I’m not sure when you called me, but this is me calling you back.” Genius. Emma rolled her eyes. “Anyway, I’m home if you would like to call me again.”
Her cell phone buzzed seconds after she set it down. She picked it back up. “Hello?”
“Emma,” he said, a huskiness to his voice she didn’t have to wonder about.
“I woke you.”
“I was having a lie down. I’ve been up…I lost count…thirty-six hours or so?” There was a rustling sound followed by a yawn.
“You need your sleep. I’ll talk to you la—”
“Don’t ring off! I…need to hear your voice.”
He’d said similar in his message. There was very definitely something wrong. “Where are you? Did something happen?” Emma allowed herself a few seconds of panic. “Are you okay?”
He murmured something too soft to catch.
“Joe?”
“I’m in California. Flew out for a party, but no one feels much like celebrating. A mate of mine got shot last night. Dominic Price?”
“Dominic Price?” She shook her head and considered pinching herself. She was talking to one rock god about another rock god like it was just everyday normal conversation. “Black Phoenix’s Dominic Price? Is he—?”
“He’ll recover, but it was bad.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Gettin’ pissed on whiskey sounds brilliant right now.”
She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Sure, the other night he’d admitted he had a problem with alcohol, but to start drinking this early? He couldn’t be serious. “Isn’t it all of eight in the morning in California?”
“Time of day means nothing.”
