by Coo Sweet
Her grief-fueled antics triggered a tidal wave of sobs from many of the mourners; especially Sage and Peyton.
By the time they’d reached the cemetery, and Serenity's casket was lowered into the ground, her mother's fractured sense of decorum was not far behind. She shook a defiant fist at the heavens.
"I hate you, God! You bastard. Why my baby? Why? She was a good girl!" the woman screeched.
Those words hit the pastor like a bullet to the heart. His arms flew straight out from his sides. His knees buckled and he dipped downward. When he regained his balance, he lifted his head skyward in silent apology. The mourners recoiled at the blasphemous slur, too. Folks from the woman’s family grabbed her and roughly forced her to a seat.
"Now, sister...you don't have to--" the pastor stuttered.
Before he could finish the sentence, Serenity’s mother was on the move again. She leaped from her chair and lunged for the pastor with claws extended. She was too fast for the pair of hands that tried to snag the back of her dress. A feral sound exploded from her throat. The pastor barely managed to duck away. He thrust his bible in front of him like armor.
Family members corralled the bereft mother. Several women petted and cooed her into some semblance of composure. They waved paper fans in front of her face and wiped her sweating brow with damp, wrinkled tissues. The pastor looked like he could have used one of those fans. And some tissue, too.
Sage convulsed with sobs. Nadine drew him to her with one hand and reached for Peyton with the other. With a tilt of her head she silently signaled to her husband, Halloran, that it was time to go. The boys simply couldn’t take anymore distress.
Sage’s folks bustled him and Peyton away from the fracas. They walked a tight line toward the parking lot. When everyone was safely in the car and somewhat calm, the weary quartet wound their way out of the cemetery.
As if they’d been silently commanded to do so, both boys unbuckled their seatbelts, kneeled facing the back window, and watched their friend’s eternal resting place until it was nothing but a speck in the distance.
That’s where the video in his dreams always stopped for Sage. His last glimpse of what remained of Serenity. The place where his rollercoaster of a nightmare should have ended; the place where he should have been able to push the safety bar from his lap and jump off the frightening ride.
Except the memories didn’t end there. They never ended there. And Sage never got off the ride. Not even when he was wide awake.
Chapter 3
Sage waited his turn in the line of cars inching out of the school parking lot. Peyton dozed in the passenger seat, his seatbelt unbuckled. He was startled awake by his cell's blaring ring tone. Sage laughed at the jerky movements Peyton made trying to retrieve the phone from his pocket.
Peyton mouthed, "Fuck you" to Sage, flipped the phone open, put it to his ear.
"Hey. What up?" Peyton asked. He slid back down in the seat.
"On our way home," Peyton said. He looked at Sage. "Yeah, he wants to go." Sage frowned.
"What time?” Peyton checked his watch. “Okay, cool. See you then." Peyton flipped the phone off, grinning like he'd just scored the winning touchdown in a big game.
"We have a date tonight," he said.
"With who?"
"Tia…the chick I was talking to you about at lunch. My kitchen buddy? Who else? And her friend for you."
"I'm not going out tonight. Too much homework. Plus, you had me up last night. Remember?"
"Aww, come on, man. I'm really feeling her...and her friend is feeling you. Matter of fact, this was her idea. It's only a movie. Couple of hours at the most. It's senior year. We should be living it up," Peyton whined.
"You been dragging out that tired ass senior year excuse since school started," Sage reminded him.
"Well, it's true. You'll be going off to college soon. Who knows when we'll get to kick it then?" Peyton said.
Sage concentrated on traffic, and tapped the steering wheel with two fingers. He pressed his mouth into a hard line, wriggling it around. He gave it a good stretch before committing it to an answer.
"Couple of hours. That's all you get. What's the friend look like?"
Peyton put his hands in the air. He mimed the shape of an hourglass.
“Umm-hmm,” said Sage. “She better be.”
“Man, you know I got you. The night’s gonna be tight and you’ll be thanking me tomorrow. Watch.”
“Yeah, I better be. Or you owe my ass big time.”
Two teen girls jockeyed for space in front of a narrow, floor-length mirror. A frilly bed behind them was covered with piles of discarded clothes. One girl managed to secure her full reflection in the mirror. The other barely got a sliver of hers.
The front runner was sixteen-year-old Raven Mason. With thick dark hair flowing down her back, light brown eyes, and caramel colored skin, her exotic beauty strained the credibility of the hard edges she frequently unleashed on the weak and unsuspecting.
Coming in at a distant second place was Peyton’s flavor of the minute, Tia. She was easy on the eyes, but far from stunning. She’d obviously been hand-picked for this mission with the express purpose of not upstaging Raven.
"I need you to sit down. I'm trying to work here," ordered Raven.
"But I can’t--"
Raven interrupted her with a red-hot glare. Tia pouted, but quickly planted herself near Raven’s feet like an obedient puppy.
"Dang...I can barely breathe in these jeans," said Raven. She admired herself from several angles. "They're perfect," she added.
"You know you look good, girl. Now hurry up…before my cousin changes her mind about dropping us off."
Raven took one final glance in the mirror. She patted her flat stomach. Tia slyly inched around Raven and stole a quick look at herself, too. Both girls grabbed their purses and dashed out the door.
There was a sparse crowd in the theater. Sage, hands in his pockets, jingled his keys. He paced a straight line near the snack bar. Like most people, blind dates made him nervous. Not Peyton, though. He leaned against a wall, watching his friend stress over what was about to happen. With his heavy-lidded eyes and a dangerously irresistible sneer on his face, he was the poster boy for sexy cool.
A dumpy looking security guard slinked past. He gave them a make my day sort of look. Yet he flinched when Peyton took his hand out of his pocket and waved at him.
"If they're not here in five minutes, I'm out," said Sage.
"Fine. See ya. More for me," Peyton said.
"I'm just saying. Girls always take forever to get somewhere. What do they--"
As if on cue, Raven and Tia made a noisy entrance into the lobby, interrupting his rant. Sage started to take a step in their direction, but Peyton pulled him back. With a shake of his head, he indicated the girls should come to them. Not the other way around.
With their belly-baring, bootie-hugging ensembles, the girls turned a few heads when they sashayed over to their dates. They arranged themselves in front of the boys like tempting gifts begging to be unwrapped.
Peyton rubbed his palms together. He licked his lips, already savoring the prospect of a sumptuous feast served up in skin-tight jeans.
Sage tugged on his collar. He pressed imaginary creases out of his t-shirt.
"What up, girl?" Peyton embraced Tia. "What took you so long?" Tia giggled, sounding every bit like a fourteen-year-old girl trying to keep up with the big boys.
“So this is my man, Sage, ya’ll.” Peyton lightly pushed Sage toward Raven. “Sage, that’s Raven.”
“Hey, Raven. What’s up?” Sage stepped closer to her, trying to imitate the greeting Peyton had given Tia...to a degree. He added a pat on the back
with a very heavy hand.
"Dang...do I look like I'm choking or something?" she said.
Sage quickly pulled away from Raven.
"Oh. Sorry," he said, raising his hands as if to check her for damages.
They all busted up laughing at his awkward gestures. With the ice firmly broken, the group separated into pairs and headed for the snack bar.
"I want a small popcorn with butter and a diet Coke," Tia said.
"Uh, this was her idea," said Peyton, pointing to Raven.
“Ya'll really should be treating us," he added.
"We are. We're here," quipped Raven.
Peyton blew her off with curled lips and a wave of his hand. She smiled back sweetly and flipped him off--with both hands.
"Quit tripping, man. Get the girl her popcorn," Sage scolded. Peyton rolled his eyes, but he dug in his pocket for cash.
"Thank you, Sage. I'll have the same," said Raven.
The girls hung back while the guys loaded up on munchies.
“This better be good, man. Better be real good,” Peyton grumbled, peeling off one bill after another to pay the snack bar attendant. Sage just laughed and shook his head.
In the darkness, Raven was on Sage like an octopus. She was all grabby-hands and eager, searching mouth. At first, Sage caved under her touch. The pistons in his crotch area were firing so loudly, they distracted him from the red flags being thrown up by his conscience.
He was running purely on fuel from his libido. The little head was definitely not trying to hear a word the big head was saying. That’s precisely when an icy presence took over. Sage felt a sensation like the metal tines of a rake scraping across his spine. That snapped him to attention. Instead of just having wood in his pants, now he felt his whole body stiffen. Raven might as well have been making out with a tree.
"Um, what’s the deal? So you’re not feeling me now?" Raven huffed, pushing him away from her.
“What? What’d I do?" stuttered Sage, his face blank at first, then flushed with embarrassment.
Raven’s chin dropped. She tilted her head toward him in disbelief, but she still expected him to pick up where they left off.
Sage kept her waiting. He fixed his posture, straightened his clothes, and pretended to be interested in the blood and gore splashing across the movie screen...like nothing strange had even happened.
After a few minutes of his cold shoulder treatment, Raven sighed and cut her eyes at him.
"Are you serious? You’re really watching the movie? Dang, boy. Don’t be such a psycho.” Raven lightly brushed his shoulder.
Sage jerked his arm away, almost knocking her drink out of the cup holder on the seat.
“What the hell? It was a joke. Why are you so touchy?" Raven laughed nervously.
"Not funny," Sage griped.
“Fine. Whatever.” Raven settled her hands in her lap. Then she faked interest in the movie, but only long enough for Sage to drop his guard. Once he was comfortable again, the seduction resumed.
Except now Raven was gentle, purposely patient. She put her head on his shoulder; planted butterfly kisses his on neck. She even flicked his earlobe with the tip of her tongue. Sage, seemingly oblivious to where this had led to mere moments ago, melted like butter in a warm pan.
He sank lower into the seat with every touch. Raven's hand slid across the crotch of his jeans in slow circles. With each caress she had more room to work with; his thighs parted wider and wider under the encouragement of her expert fingertips.
Sage’s thighs may have been loose, but his hands had a firm grip on the armrests of his seat. His breath was heavy and quick in his chest, and it wasn’t just Raven’s body work that made him react that way. The eerie raking sensation down his spine popped back into his head. That put him on high alert for whatever might come next.
Seated several seats over, Peyton took a breather. He’d gotten Tia so worked up she looked as if she’d been running a marathon race. Peyton glanced at his friend and was stoked by the considerable progress they were making with their dates. He coasted into the seat next to Sage.
"Hey, man let's get out of here," whispered Peyton.
"But the movie's not--"
"Screw the movie. Let's go."
Sage and Raven strolled out of the theater holding hands. Judging from the way Peyton dragged Tia out, you would have thought the building was on fire.
The four of them walked up to a late model SUV in the parking lot. Sage pulled out his keys and unlocked the doors.
"This is your ride? Your folks got it like that, huh?" Raven gushed.
"Not really. They work hard -- appreciate nice things," said Sage.
"I do, too -- appreciate nice things, that is, but I'm not feeling the working hard part," Raven purred.
"I don’t know about that. You're working mighty hard on me," Sage joked.
"Oh, I'm just getting started, baby. You’ll see," Raven promised, conjuring a smile wicked enough to turn Satan green with envy.
Chapter 4
Sage's bedroom had a hip, urban flavor to it, lots of chrome, blonde wood, straight edges. A few posters and modern artwork adorned the walls. A generous dash of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder was evident, too. Just as it had been when he was eleven years old. Hell, maybe even more so.
There was a place for everything; perfectly lined shelves, neat decorative bins, carefully lidded containers, and you’d better believe everything was in its place. Sage had learned early to take control wherever he could get it.
He leaned against his dresser, watching Raven with a curious expression on his face. She buzzed around the room like some kind of tweaker, only she was hopped up on nervous energy, not street drugs. Raven inspected his bookcase. She ran a curious finger along various titles.
"I like to read, too. This is one of my favorites,” she said, picking up a thick paperback.
From there, a framed collage of family pictures caught her eye. She turned her attention to them, admiring each photo individually. She giggled at one in particular. It was a larger version of the same picture a grieving boy had slipped into a girl’s casket six years earlier. Sage used to be that boy. Almost a man now, he was trying desperately to keep his past from making a quick and satisfying meal out of his present.
Watching Raven focus on the picture made Sage’s heart race. He took several deep breaths to calm his pulse and perked his ears up in case he needed to dodge a certain disembodied voice attempting to needle its way into his head. He pulled his shoulders in a little, too, anticipating the touch of invisible, yet painfully frigid fingertips.
Mostly Sage willed himself to stay in the moment, not to fall prey to the ominous presence that always seemed to worm its way into most of his intimate moments with girls.
While Sage wrestled with his private demon, Raven moved to another photo and busted out laughing. The picture captured Sage and Peyton costumed for Halloween--as pirates. They sported rough looking clothes, fake beards, and matching snaggletoothed grins. Raven tapped the frame’s glass. She lifted the picture from the wall for a better look.
"Is that Peyton? Wow...you and your boy have been kicking it for a while, huh?"
Sage stood behind her. He looked at the picture with hooded eyes --like he was shielding himself from something.
"Yeah, you could say we've seen some stuff." He smiled, but it was tinged with cold melancholy. Raven felt it. She crossed her arms against the sudden chill he’d ushered into the room. "We actually got into a fight the first day we met."
"For real? Over what?" Raven grinned, looking even more vibrant. He was really speaking her language now.
"It was in kindergarten; middle of the school year. We had just moved, and I was the
new kid. My mom had written my name on my backpack in big, black letters. Peyton saw it and said, ‘Hey, Saggy. You wanna play ball?’ I thought he was trying to clown me."
Raven laughed from deep in her belly.
"I know, right? Fool must've been hooked on phonics or something.”
Raven drew her face up. He’d lost her there. She had obviously never seen the commercials for the collection of educational DVDs. Sage laughed at himself, and the ridiculous reference he’d just made. He chalked it up to nerves, chiding himself inside. Relax, man...before you freak the girl out.
“Anyway...I pushed him. Of course he pushed me back. Next thing you know the principal was pulling us apart. We haven't been separated since."
