by Deanna Chase
“Sunny, I don’t know about tonight. I worked late last night and I’m not the best company at the moment,” I protested.
Which was true. Sunny was a flirtaholic and after watching a depressing romance movie that day, I was not in the mood to be charming.
“No four-letter words allowed on a Saturday, not unless they involve acts beneath the sheets.”
The one thing we never discussed when we went out—or tried not to—was work. Nothing kills an evening like a fifteen-minute recap on how the toner cartridge from the printer exploded on your hand. Those stories were reserved for our phone conversations.
“Unless you have a man over there—which I’m sure you don’t—I’m coming to get you. And on second thought, if you do have man over there, then I’m still coming over. Some miracles are worth seeing. I know you’ve heard me say it a million times but you need to put yourself out there. Brandon was a royal ass, but you deserve someone who can appreciate your finely sharpened wit.”
“I wouldn’t want to put out anyone’s eye with my wit.” Not wanting to discuss that particular subject, I switched gears. “I take it I’m paying?”
“That, my dear girl, is the most fabulous part of all. Tonight it’s on the house.”
“Whose house?”
“Finnegan’s. Anything we want. That means food and drink, free of charge.”
“How did you swing that, Sunshine?”
I dragged my stubborn feet to the floor, praying she had not slipped into the dark and lurid world of prostituting for rib eye.
“I have my sources. In fact,” she said in a voice edged with secrets, “I want you to meet my source. You met him once before—remember Marco?”
“Marco…”
I had to give it some thought. Sunny tried men like flavors of ice cream. I heard a short stubborn sigh on the other line and smiled.
“At Finnegan’s—he came over and I introduced you. Italian, tall, sexy accent?” She paused in irritation. “Mother of God, you spilled your beer on his lap.”
“Oh, Marco! Sure, I remember. Just how are his pants these days? I’m assuming you’ve been in them.”
“Ha ha.”
“So why the reintroduction?” Sunny was never evasive; this was a girl who could talk nonstop about her trip to the nail salon in bleeding-ear detail.
“No time. Get ready because I’ll be there in an hour. Put a hustle in it!”
To be honest, I had no qualms about slumming it on my sofa for the evening, but Sunny would give me no choice in the matter. That girl was always on the prowl for men. I didn’t get the kind of attention she did, nor did I want it after my last relationship with Brandon.
The ex.
The one I tried to push away like a terrible nightmare.
After I turned twenty-nine, Sunny’s personal goal was to make sure that I had a good time. I loved her to the moon for it. I could tell her anything—she was the vault that held all my secrets. Plus no one else could make me laugh so hard I would spit my drink out. I felt more comfortable with Sunny than anyone else in my life—especially my mother, who was about as affectionate as a Brillo Pad.
Sunny approached life with a reckless abandon that I adored. The truth is, she and Max were all I had in the world.
“Hold down the fort, panther boy.”
Max glanced over his shoulder indifferently and proceeded to polish the windowpane with his tongue.
***
Fifty-six minutes later, I stepped off the curb as Sunny’s bright red mustang prowled around the corner. A glittery disco ball swung from the rearview mirror as she flung her arm out in a pageant wave. That girl was a walking cliché without a clue.
“Hey, Sunshine,” I greeted her, slipping into the passenger seat. As I buckled my seat belt, I was blasted by the air conditioner that sent strands of coppery hair all over the place. I smoothed the ends and frowned; all that time wasted on straightening and gloss cream.
“I hope this is something you won in a radio contest and not one of the perks for dating a waiter.”
Sunny’s eyes flashed at me as she blew past a stop sign.
“Owner. Not waiter.”
“Ah, moving up the food chain are we? Nice.” I shocked her with a snap of static electricity.
“Cut it out!” she squeaked.
My friend gave a brilliant performance at hiding her amusement, but failed miserably. It was one of my few quirks. I could build up a static charge that was unparalleled. So naturally, I used it to my absolute advantage. It kept Max off the dining table and Sunny in check.
I felt the hostility behind those icy blue eyes and guilt crept up on me… until I became distracted by the glitter shadow on her lower lids.
“You know you’re a freak of nature, Zoë.
“But you love me, admit it.”
“Can you please move out of BFE? These half-hour drives are killing me.” A topic she launched into almost every conversation in her futile attempts to get me to move in with her.
The girl lived downtown where the crime was as high as her rent (and her neighbor for that matter). Personally, I preferred to live as far away from prostitution and drunks as possible. I guess everyone has their thing.
The city invested in a public rail system after job expansion increased to accommodate the commuters. I loved the rail and rode it daily; after a while you start wondering why you need a car.
Forty minutes and two obscene gestures later, we arrived at Finnegan’s.
They had a huge bar that curved around two walls, and it was filling up fast. Mosaic candleholders brightened the tables and if I had a big enough purse I might be tempted to take one home. A busy game room was nestled behind closed doors, but we never went in there. Sunny insisted a quality man would never be found lingering over a musty pool table. Winding stairs spilled into the dining room on the lower level—showy with its bright colors and metal art sculptures on the walls. The food was delicious, even if it was served on triangular plates.
“Follow me to the bar,” she called out over her shoulder.
Sunny floated across the room with the finesse of a cat and I followed her trail of perfume to a high table. She slid into the tall wooden chair, crossing her sun-kissed legs as predatory eyes watched her from all angles. The formfitting black skirt and sparkling blue eyes were a deadly combination. Sunny had the kind of hair most girls would kill for—thick, wavy, honey-blond and styled fashionably above her shoulders. She could have been a model, but instead she was just adorable.
I, on the other hand, didn’t spend much time with primping. I was a few inches shorter than her five-foot-eight stature, but in heels no one noticed. She was always trying to drag me to the gym to tone up, but I liked my soft figure. I was slim, but by no means perfect. My hair was like a chameleon—sometimes brown and other times a rich auburn. Overall, I may have been considered average, but I had a confident swing in my step that got noticed.
Touching the footrest with my heels, I studied my slim khakis and plain shirt. I was grossly overdressed for a Saturday—every woman in that bar wore nothing less than sex appeal.
After the waitress took our order, Sunny dropped her red sparkly clutch on the table. I admired her new manicure of silver nails with diamond flecks on the corners as I rubbed my thumb over my own chipped polish.
“I’ve been keeping a secret,” she said, grinning like a fox.
“This should be good.” I gave a casual smile so as not to reveal my curiosity.
“Marco and I have been dating for almost two months now and it’s gotten… exclusive.” She lifted her plucked brows, anticipating my reaction. “He’s loaded, but that isn’t why I’m with him, Zoë—contrary to my past liaisons.” She snorted.
“Exclusive,” I said, tasting the word and all it implied. “This means you aren’t dating anyone else, just him?”
Sunny was a boat on the sea that never wanted to be anchored. Never once did she lead her lovers on; I was always astounded at her candor when she
told them her expectations up front.
“You’re serious?”
“As a heart attack. I never keep secrets from you, but I didn’t want to jinx it since I didn’t know where it was going. Trust me, I’m just as shocked as you are. But I really like him; he’s nothing like the guys I usually go for. He’s sophisticated. And he stands up to me… doesn’t just do whatever I say.”
Sunny beamed.
I curled my fingers around the bottle that appeared in front of me. “So you finally decided to date a real man who has a pair?”
The guys she dated were beautifully packaged, but men of substance they were not. Most of them followed her around with puppy-dog eyes and a neutered expression.
“Don’t give me your sass. You just wish you had snatched him up first because he’s delish.”
She stirred the cherry in her vodka drink and pulled it out by the stem. It lingered on her bottom lip, glossing it up while her eyes scanned the room. When her tongue swept out and circled around the stem, I released a lengthy sigh.
“You’re telling me that you are in a serious relationship with one man, yet here you sit, molesting a cherry in public. Really, Sunshine? You do realize that’s an open invitation for every guy here. What would Marco say if he found you seducing other men?”
Her teeth bit down and those blue eyes narrowed. Sunny was so easy to bait. She flicked the stem at me in silent retaliation.
“Flirting,” she corrected in her usual bright tone. “I have to say that he’s very yummy in bed, too. Well, we’ve only had sex twice. He’s got this kinky thing about not touching me with his hands, but dang… he touches me with everything else. It’s so damn sexy.” She paused. “He even asks about you.”
I came close to sucking my drink down the wrong pipe.
“Me?” I was nonplussed, given I only met the man once and it was brief.
“Sure, I’ve told him all about you.”
“Lovely, so glad to amuse. Did you tell him all of the embarrassing stories or just the highlights?”
“That’s why I like him, Zoë. He’s interested in what’s important to me and you are one of those things.”
Several hours later, Marco texted Sunny with a “sorry I can’t make it something came up” message that kept her eyes glued to the phone all night. While she acted nonchalant about it, I could see an ugly layer of pissed off brewing below the surface.
In the middle of her story about the mechanic who screwed her out of $2400.00, the tiny hairs on my arms stood on end. Just like before, a terrible feeling moved through me like a swarm of bees. A quick scan around the room revealed nothing out of the ordinary. Still, I had the distinct feeling I was being watched.
I was distracted by a floating tray of nachos that settled on a table to our left. I crinkled my nose in disgust at all the finger-licking and double-dipping between the three men who had made obvious efforts to gawk at Sunny’s gazelle legs.
“Zoë, did you hear me? Are you feeling okay? You look pale.”
“I always look pale, I’m part Irish, remember?”
She smiled and twirled her hair between two fingers. “What’s the other part?”
“Tired.” I thinned my lips, hating to be the one to ruin the party. “It’s time for me to head out. I promise that I’ll have dinner with you and Marco another time. I need to meet the man who might put my best friend in a wedding gown.”
Her wide eyes protested and I gave her a teasing wink. Sunny was not the marrying kind, thanks to her screwed-up parents.
“I’m so glad you came, Zoë girl, we need to do this more often. All my other girlfriends are a snore,” she said, waving a hand.
Sunny bounced out of her chair with a radiant grin and threw an arm around me, making sure that I knew how much I was loved.
Just then, one of guys at the nacho table wolf whistled, causing a few other patrons to turn in our direction. When I felt Sunny’s hand slide down to my ass, I laughed out loud.
“Are you trying to torture them?”
“No,” she said with a subtle purr in her voice. “I’m just giving them something to dream about later, no harm in that.” When her neck curved in their direction, I shoved her off.
Suddenly a shiver skated across my skin. My stomach knotted as if I had swallowed a nightmare and it was growing within me—prowling and trying to claw its way out. I needed to get out of here.
“Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” Sunny touched my arm with concern and the corners of her mouth turned down.
“I’m fine; I slept too much earlier and now I just feel… off.”
She looked concerned and brushed a hand through my hair in a motherly fashion. “Let’s get you home.”
***
Sunny’s car roared into the train station with an attitude. The drive to my apartment was too far, so I didn’t see the point in wearing her out playing cab driver. Besides, it was pretty obvious she had undisclosed intentions of dropping in on Marco. I pitied the bastard; if he was really up to no good then hell hath no fury like what he was about to receive.
I stepped out of the car and signaled her to roll down the window as I cupped my elbows. “Call me when you get home so I know you’re safe.”
“Will do, Zoë dahling,” she said in her snobby accent. “Stay away from the weirdos on the train!”
I nibbled on that thought with a smile. At night, there was almost nobody on the train except a few late-shift hospital workers.
“Hey, I am the weirdo on the train.”
“You got that right!”
The car eased away. “Next Friday let’s do this again, but no pants allowed. Skirts only. Love you, sis!”
Sunny—always the fashion bully.
I lost track of time during the short ride home thinking about her new… boyfriend? I guess that was the word. I just hoped he was a good guy.
When the train reached my stop, I leapt off and began my walk home, listening to the click of my heels on the uneven pavement. 15th Street was filled with small shops—now closed—where I spent my Sundays shopping and eating.
I passed the last streetlamp on the right, facing a dark, open field. Just on the other side I could make out the subtle glow of my apartment lights, and it was the only feasible shortcut. It took twice as long to take the road, which did a complete U-turn and it was three times as scary. The creek was shadowed with trees, and living things scurried from beneath the bridge. No thanks—not a fan of getting eaten by shadow monsters.
The one risk was that summer rain often brought colonies of fire ants. They could turn an otherwise innocent stretch of land into a minefield, unleashing an assault like never imagined. It was a hard lesson learned when I first moved in and decided to grab a sandwich in my flip-flops. Since then, I always brought an extra pair of sneakers if I went anywhere.
I also kept a bottle of Calamine in the medicine cabinet.
Taking my time, I walked across the fragrant field of wildflowers. I loved the heady scent in the evening.
Not that I could see a damn thing.
My hair twisted about my face when a sudden gust of wind came up from behind.
At least, I thought it was wind.
A blanket of darkness circled around, tilting me off balance so that I landed flat on my back. The wind was knocked out of me like I had taken a fist to my lungs and I grunted like an animal.
Staring up at the stars, it took a moment to get over the initial shock of the fall.
Except, those weren’t stars.
Brilliant green eyes, lit by more than the moonlight, stared watchfully at me. They were jewels whose colors shifted from the glowing embers behind them. My body stung with an electrical charge that intensified the more the dark-haired man leaned in, but I was too stunned to do anything… to say anything. Fear overwhelmed me and felt as palpable as a million dull spikes pressing against my skin.
“Hello, little girl.”
His voice was thick, accented, and colossal in power. A short-bearded chee
k brushed against mine and I recoiled. Too close.
Cruel fingers squeezed my arms forcefully until my hands were pinned over my head. His eager palm pressed against mine.
“So glad we can finally be acquainted. You must lie very still so we can get this over with. The last one died in the process and this requires careful timing.”
When I was ten, I put a 9-volt battery to my tongue on a dare. Needless to say, after I felt the surprising sting of pain on my tongue, it didn’t last more than two seconds. It doesn’t mean it was the last time I ever did it—strange how you challenge yourself with pain tolerance. The sharp metal flavor was as close to that sensation as I could describe.
Energy buzzed in my fingertips and a feathery bluish light drifted between our hands like delicate cobwebs. A scream was surfacing from my lungs, but before it escaped, I snapped my head forward and struck him in the face.
There was a crack and as soon as I felt the pain, a stream of warm blood poured all over my neck from his broken nose. Tears welled, but I refused to let them free. That clever little idea came courtesy of countless action films, but something they never went into detail about was that a headbutt hurts on both ends.
Lesson learned.
He roared so loud that I stiffened like a dog about to be spanked for shitting on the rug.
“Get off of me! Let me go, get off!” Words that meant nothing to an attacker.
“You worthless female whore, I will not make this as easy on you as the rest,” he promised. His hands fell over my eyes, and in a flash of pain, I was temporarily blinded.
My hand sought the one place I knew I could gain the advantage. I wasn’t going to be the only one who saw blinding light, so I reached down and twisted his balls with a punishing grip.
That was enough to make him jump back, so I flipped over like a coin and ran aimlessly in the dark.
I managed twelve long strides before slamming into a wall, which not only immobilized me but also wrapped itself around me like a midnight tornado.
I sat straight down, slipping through his grasp and onto my knees. Salty sweat tickled my brow and within seconds, he fell on top of my back and locked his arms around my neck in a vise-like grip. I clawed at his steel arm, but he didn’t loosen his hold by even a fraction. There was no more air.
