by Berinn Rae
The potion was a lovely plum color and Lily guzzled it without hesitation, felt it settle, cool and pleasant, in her stomach. And then she felt … nothing. No change. No metamorphosis into a shiny new woman ready to take on the maddening world of men. With an enigmatic little smile, Nila ushered Lily out of the shop. And that was that. Except as Lily plopped her tired body into an e-bus seat for the ride home, she found herself wishing she’d spent the thirteen dollars on a couple of lovely, limb-loosening margaritas at O’Connor’s Pub instead of a silly love potion.
Chapter Two
Lily waited to feel different, waited for the love potion to fill her with ecstasy or giddy happiness or to feel as glamorous as a vid star. But as she climbed the stairs to her third floor apartment, she felt only exhaustion. Tripping on the last step, she fell flat on her face. The clasp in her hair popped free to skid across the carpet. At the same time, the three pencils lodged in her curls flipped down the stairs.
Too weary to move, she lay sprawled in the middle of the hallway looking up at the light fracturing through the chandelier high above her head. She wished she could just stay here, unmoving, until this endless, horrid day passed into tomorrow … except someone was sure to step out of the ancient elevator, trip over her, and sue. Probably poor Eleanor McCready in number 312 down the hall, half-blind behind her Coke bottle lenses.
Lily pushed to her feet and, ignoring her scattered sketchbooks, satchel, and portfolio, moved to open the door of her corner apartment. And then she discovered she’d forgotten her keys. Again. Cursing a stream of creative gutter language, she went to the apartment next door.
“Daniel?” She knocked on the door. “Please be home … I’m locked out. Again.”
A long moment passed before Daniel Harris swept open his door, a grin wide on his face. The grin died when he saw Lily’s strained eyes and tangled hair.
“Doesn’t it get old, laughing every time I forget my key?” she snapped.
“I don’t laugh every time,” Daniel ducked inside to grab a clipboard hanging on the wall and consulted it. “Just the fourth time this week.” He showed her the tally sheet for the month of October.
“Nine times already?” Her voice broke over this tiny but final straw.
“And, Lil, it’s only the fourteenth.”
“Don’t lecture me, Daniel. Not today.”
“A day of days, was it?”
“Without mercy, fortune, or kindness,” Lily sighed.
• • •
The fatigue in Lily’s voice cut Daniel to the quick. “Want to talk?” he asked. “I’ve got a box of cheap wine with our names on it.”
“All I want is bed and sweet dreams.”
I could give you that in a heartbeat, Daniel thought, then chided himself and grabbed her spare key off the hook hanging just inside his door. Draping an arm across her shoulders, he turned her towards her apartment and saw the mess at the top of the stairs. His arm tightened.
“I tripped.” She leaned into his ribs.
“No mercy at all … ” Daniel murmured against her hair smelling of apple blossoms and autumn mist. He knew he should step away now, before his emotions fully engaged and tore through the mental shield he kept rigid between them. Already he felt the irresistible pull of her distress and fought against a need to sweep her up and carry her off to bed. His bed.
He let his arm fall away and bent to help her stuff pencils, brushes, charcoal sticks, crumpled sketches, and a scruffy coin purse back inside the canvas satchel.
“Thanks for always being there, Daniel. I appreciate you going beyond the call of duty for me. Do I tell you that enough?”
“Yes, you tell me everyday.” Arms full of books, he followed the girl inside her apartment and paused as he always did to breathe in her living scent: a hint of summer, tangy linseed oil, and the pungent odor of oil paint drying on canvas. Of all the apartments in the building Daniel managed for his aging aunt, Lily’s was his favorite. He found it energizing. Every molecule in the air vibrated to her pulsating, restless spirit. Light poured in through a row of tall, wide windows.
Half the floor was covered by a paint-spattered ground cloth and held a hodgepodge of work tables cluttered with the tools of her trade: paint, brushes, rags, cans of thinners, and cleaning solutions. An old sideboard stood against the back wall, filled with more paint supplies tucked among books on anatomy, art history, and famous artists. A large easel, collapsed flat, leaned in one corner. Another easel stood front and center hidden under a draping sheet. Canvases of all sizes stood propped against the wall.
An overstuffed couch and matching chair divided the room from the small kitchen along the opposite wall. Mismatched dishes filled a dry rack and two fat goldfish swam around a castle in a fishbowl beside the refrigerator. An antique cabinet housed her computer deck and VPEG player, the satellite transceiver, and a mid-sized digi-console. Strings of pink flamingo lights hid among sprawling houseplants large enough to eat someone. Lily’s home, like her heart, radiated a wild energy. Most days.
But not today. Her distress dragged at Daniel as he set her books on the overcrowded kitchen table and briefly touched the forgotten key ring lying there. He found himself wishing, not for the first time, that her absentmindedness betrayed a subconscious need for him. He tortured himself with the wanting of her, the wretched, fierce need for her … even though he knew better.
Lily needed nothing this turbulent corporate world of 2039 offered except its kaleidoscope of colors and textures. As for himself, a clairvoyant Reader, he needed to maintain the strictest of mental and emotional shielding. Otherwise every thought, every feeling that humans projected would overwhelm his senses and drive him insane. Literally.
At the sharp squeal of springs, he glanced up to see Lily flopped, arms and legs askew, on the couch.
“I’m not going to cry,” she promised the ceiling.
“Of course you aren’t,” Daniel said. “You never cry.”
He watched a single tear track the side of her face and gritted his teeth. Gods afire, how he wished she’d let him love her. But he was just the guy next door, her best friend, there to help her navigate the everyday life she found so befuddling. Even as he watched, her beautiful eyes, large and blue as his Gran’s Wedgwood china, misted over and she was gone, disappearing into yet another idea zinging around inside her imaginative brain. Lily had so much vision … she just didn’t have eyes for him. He turned away to fill the tea kettle, setting it at low to give her time before the whistle raged and pulled her reluctantly back to earth. Then he slipped unnoticed out the door.
Chapter Three
For a long moment, Lily lay dissolved in the idea of golden light shining through a cadmium red glaze. The long, trying day faded away as she worked out in her mind how she’d layer the paint, which colors she’d brush on first, and how thick. Then she bounced up from the couch, peeling off her coat.
Restless now and weariness forgotten, she stripped out of her dress and stockings, tossing them in a careless pile on her bed as she pulled on a faded shirt and ragged jeans before donning her paint-crusted smock.
Her blood sang with the jazzy impatience she always experienced near the end of a project, this one a painting of a male nude she’d begun the day before. She wanted him in shadow and light, and had chosen a palette of warm yellows and soft reds to highlight his outstretched hand, his upturned face, and surging chest. As she whipped the cover sheet off the easel, she could see her naked man reaching out of a dark, broiling background.
The whistling tea kettle made her jump. At the same time, a knock sounded on the door. She tried to ignore both and then, resigned, tossed the sheet back over the painting and went to answer the door.
Ellen Reid stood in the hallway, tall, sleek, confident. Lily should have known, after ditching work earlier, that there’d be no escape from her boss.
Ellen breezed into Lily’s apartment, tossing her leather coat over the back of the couch. The tea kettle still screamed. Lily
swept it off the burner as her boss kicked her pricey, spike-heeled boots across the floor before flopping down into the easy chair.
“Heard you had a day.” Ellen leaned back and closed her eyes.
“I’m getting over it.” Lily shrugged. “Tea?”
“Please. I’m going nowhere until I’ve heard every gruesome detail.” Ellen eased out a long sigh and, stretching her legs across the top of the coffee table, wriggled her manicured toes. She looked as out of place in Lily’s untidy, eclectic apartment as the Charlie Russell of two cowboys hanging on the wall above the computer console. Ellen’s hair, expensively streaked, fell in perfect waves to her shoulders.
The plucked eyebrows accented the beauty of her long eyes, and Lily wondered again why Ellen refused to have her portrait painted. She’d make a kickass mythological goddess, maybe a wise Athena or conquering Diana with her strong chin, sculpted cheekbones and long limbs. But no, Ellen hated the thought of herself captured forever in a moment of time. Claimed it would mess with her chi.
Lily picked two mugs from the dry rack and dropped a tea ball into each. There was a time when Ellen’s sophisticated suits and European hair had made her feel like a bumbling idiot. But no longer. Now Lily took great pleasure in the fact that her home was the only place Ellen Reid ever really relaxed and let her hair down. In reciprocation, Ellen bestowed Lily with all the warmth and humor she rarely showed to anyone.
Over the past two years, the women had developed a deep affection and appreciation for each other. Complete opposites, their personalities jelled as compatibly as berries and honey. Ellen knew the true value of Lily’s talent and paid her accordingly. Lily depended on Ellen to help her manage money, her career, and, on occasion, her social life.
“I brought another comic strip, Lil,” Ellen said. “This one is so you it’s scary.”
Lily groaned. “Not another Lost and Found! I hate that blasted strip, and you know it. It’s not even funny.”
“It is to those of us who delight in the absurdities of human nature in a world gone mad.”
“I’d like to slap whoever writes it upside the head,” Lily said. “G.I.L.! What kind of name is that and why does he pick on artists, squints, and musicians?”
“He picks on all of us, lovingly exposing our soft underbellies. I’ll bet G.I.L. is the computer geek character hiding behind those big glasses while life passes him by.” Ellen reached for the mug Lily held out and stuck her nose in the rising steam. Lily set a plate of cookies, compliments of the McCready sisters down the hall, on the coffee table and curled herself into a corner of the couch.
“I appreciate humor as much as the next guy but not when it’s personal.”
Ellen pulled the comic vid-print from her purse and passed it over. “See the girl? She’s out on a date, which you never are so you can’t take that personally. And she can’t decide what to order. At a hot dog stand!”
“What’s so funny about that?”
“Lily, a hot dog stand only sells hot dogs! I love this comic because I’ve watched you do this exact same thing. Believe me, it’s hilarious.” Ellen nudged Lily’s foot. Lily grudgingly admitted it might be a little funny. They sat in companionable silence for a moment before Ellen shifted tone.
“I’m sorry about your troubles with Pete today. I smoothed it over with him, you don’t need to sweat it.”
Lily sat up with relief. “So no beheading in my future? No crows pecking my carcass? Thank the Powers! Did you know the man dressed himself as Henry the VIII for his portrait? How creepifying is that? I’ve repainted his face a dozen times and it is, without a doubt, the stuff of nightmares. Nothing I do makes him happy, and then he goes all snarly and mean. I’d rather paint his backside than endure one more sitting with him.”
Ellen shuddered at the horror. “Some people just can’t live with the way they look. He didn’t like Sam’s photographs either. Poor pigheaded Pete.”
“Look around the room,” Lily gestured. “I took down my piglet lights — couldn’t stand the sight of them.”
Ellen laughed. “Never mind. I refunded the man’s down payment and suggested the name of another studio.”
“Thank you, and I am sorry I couldn’t please him. But now I can start with the two sisters. They’re adorable. I can’t wait for the first sitting.”
“You’re the strangest portrait artist I know. No one likes children’s sittings.”
“I do. I love all that fidgety energy. Children’s souls shine like the sun through their skin, have you noticed?”
“Mmm. And I don’t know another painter who can capture that as well as you do.” At Lily’s uncomfortable blush, Ellen laughed. “Just say ‘Thank you, Ellen.’ You must learn to accept accolades with grace, Lil, especially if your work is carried by Gradyn Spencer.”
Lily’s face fell as she told Ellen about the woman who’d bought her painting at one of the prestigious Spencer Galleries and then returned it. With plenty to say about why. “Gradyn called to tell me this morning.”
“Oh my, you did have a day. But you can’t please everyone, Lil. Her opinion isn’t shared by others who know your work. And certainly not by the illustrious Mr. Spencer. I hear he’s over the moon at signing you. Thinks you’re a genius with color.”
“Only because he’s Daniel’s friend.”
“Not true. And Gradyn shouldn’t have told you what the woman said.”
“I asked him for her number so I could call and apologize. This is business and I have to be professional. I have to know what people think.”
“Believe me, you don’t!” Ellen said. “So, enough dancing around the subject of why I really came by … did you or did you not go to Carter and Bell’s Dating Service? And did they match you up with someone delicious?”
Lily stood to whisk Ellen’s empty mug away and load it in the dishwasher.
“You wimped out!” Ellen accused over her shoulder.
“No, I went,” Lily answered. “How could I not when you defied the natural order of the universe by making me an appointment?”
Ellen ignored her. “What did you think of the place? Pretty posh, huh? Like only the beautiful and intelligent would list there.”
Lily plopped back on the couch. “Get real, Ellen. I am so not their kind of client. But I made myself go. I stood in a cold sweat outside their perfect arch and tried to force myself to step through those elegant glass doors. Truly, I did. But I panicked. And then I saw Madame Bagasha’s Magicke Shoppe next door.”
“What shop next door?” Ellen frowned. “Madame Bagasha? As in the ‘psychic fortune teller’ who advertises on late night television?”
“Yes.” Lily told Ellen how the shop sang to her, how the sights and smells of the shop sank into her skin, left her swimming in sensation. Told her, too, about the hexagonal dice that revealed her heart’s wish and the tall, willowy witch whose fingers called ingredients from shelves across the room. Finally, reluctantly, Lily told her about the love potion.
Ellen’s feet hit the floor. “A love potion? Are you insane? Carter and Bell’s might have been a wish of whimsy on my part, but Holy Gods … tell me you didn’t drink it, Lily!”
“Of course I drank it.” Lily shrugged. “I paid a whopping thirteen dollars for it.”
Ellen leaped up to pace the room. “Are you out of your fricking mind? The potion could be … toxic! Or cause warts. Make your teeth fall out, your head spin ’round on your neck or … or turn your hair into snakes!”
“No.” Lily shook her head. “The shop felt right, perfect, in fact. And the potion tasted good, like licorice. I am so going back, maybe to buy wizard mini-lights. You should come with me, you’d love it.”
“I wouldn’t!” Ellen declared with a shudder. “And it terrifies me that you’d drink some concoction of God knows what made by a God knows what! Did you feel sick? Or … are you suddenly slobbering over every guy wearing jeans … or wearing nothing?”
The delight faded from Lily’s face. “No. In fac
t, nothing’s happened. I don’t feel any different.”
“What’s supposed to happen? Did you even ask?”
“No.”
“Gods afire, Lily!” Ellen reached out as if to throttle her before dropping back into the chair with a ferocious scowl. “You are dangerously dumb sometimes, know that? Promise to call me if you begin levitating or sprouting beans from your ears. Or speaking in tongues! Even better, call your cute neighbor, what’s his name.”
“Daniel. ‘Daniel-on-call’ I call him.”
Ellen glanced at her watch, made a sour face and began forcing her feet back into her tight boots. “Well ‘Daniel-on-call’ is yummy, Lil, and right under your nose. What’d the little witch say, that you’re surrounded by love? I’d let him ‘surround’ me anytime.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “Daniel’s my best friend. I’d never mess with that. You know how hopeless I am with guys. I couldn’t get mouth to mouth if I was dying in a ditch.”
“Only because you’d rather stare at cloud bunnies than a cute guy.” Ellen gave Lily a quick hug before dashing out of the apartment, pulling her coat on as she ran down the stairs.
Lily leaned for a moment in her open doorway breathing in the smell of dinners cooking in the apartments around her. So yeah, Ellen mostly had it right. Lily did live her days in dreamy distraction. But her boss didn’t know everything. The two socialized together sometimes, but Lily’d never felt at ease around Ellen’s fast, urbane crowd. The “eat, drink and be merry” scene was not her preferred smorgasbord of fun. Still, Ellen would be shocked at the fierce attachment Lily felt for this old apartment building and how much strength she drew from the hallowed walls no longer square after more than a century of settling deeper into the earth.
Lily often cruised the winding hallways of an evening, sometimes chatting, sometimes just brushing her hands along the burnished wood. These walls didn’t contain, but supported. The wood pulsed with the heartbeats of those who dwelled within as well as those who whispered from the past.
