The Darkest Hour: A San Diegan Novel

by S. M. Soto

“See ya, angel face.”

  We part with small waves and I head down his steps and back home feeling the weight of everything that happened today. I hurry inside getting ready for bed, glad this day is over.

  Small white snowflakes fall around the car, accumulating on the windshield, until they’re wiped off by the windshield wipers. The quiet hum of the engine is cut off by a loud crash, and a kaleidoscope of colors flash before me, illuminating the inside of the car.

  Blood.

  Dark red smears.

  Liquid pools.

  The broken windshield.

  White now painted red.

  I scream, or at least I try to, but nothing comes out. The twisted metal of the car is suddenly bathed in darkness—pitch black. I can feel myself moving, but I don’t know how it’s happening. Within seconds, I’m free falling, tumbling backwards. My body meets ice cold water, and it’s like smacking pavement. The pain envelopes me whole, sinking me further into the darkness. I open my mouth in a scream. Cold water fills my lungs like blocks of dry ice. I can’t tell if it burns from being too hot or too cold. My throat closes off, and the invisible hand tightens. It’s relentless. I’m choking; gasping for precious air. The pain in my chest is unbearably devastating, it rips me in half. I can faintly hear the sounds of someone singing Somewhere over the Rainbow from the Wizard of Oz. The words blend together under water, and I can’t for the life of me understand why the voice singing sounds so familiar.

  The word, ‘Mommy’, is an echoed whisper that gets louder, and louder, until it blares in my ears.

  My body flings forward, and I wake with a scream. My body trembles from head to toe, drenched in a cold sweat. There’s tears running down my face, and the churning in my belly has bile rising to my throat. I run to the bathroom, emptying the contents of my stomach, until there’s nothing left. I dry heave, the force wracks my body and tears leak out of the corners of my eyes. The images from my nightmare cling to me in the worst ways. Sleep tonight is out of the question.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  The following day at work both Sam and Natalia are back. I wage an internal war with myself. I want to tell them about my kiss with Chase that backfired, but then again, I don’t want to relive the embarrassment all over again. Coupled with the fact I’m running on little to no sleep after my nightmare, I decide not to. With everything swirling around in my head after the dream, I can’t handle any backlash I may get from the girls.

  The bar and grille buzzes with the energy of our rowdy lunch crowd. Clinking of glasses, forks, and knives can be heard over the loud laughter and chatter of people. The distinct smell of smoky fajitas permeates the air. It’s tangy, with a roasted, peppery smell. I can faintly hear Alex shouting demands at the bus boys. I shake my head with a small smile, shifting toward the girls. Natalia looks a little frazzled, her hair is in a messy bun on top of her head and are those…grass stains on her jeans? I tune into her and Sam’s discussion.

  “He was literally the worst lay of my damn life. I didn’t even have the energy to fake it.” Sam lets out an exasperated sigh like she can’t believe she went through something so tragic. Me and Natalia laugh and roll our eyes at typical Sam behavior. She’s a complete man eater; she’s the female version of a male player. The game she runs on these poor guys is tragic, they all fall for her beauty and she gets what she wants, one amazing night in bed.

  Sam’s words, not mine.

  I glance at Natalia then down to her stained skinny jeans with raised brows.

  “Natalia, I think you have grass stains on your jeans.” I point to her knee that has a large streak of green going across it. Natalia’s face goes beet red as she glances down assessing her stain.

  “You little bitch!” Sam accuses in a high-pitched voice glaring at Natalia. My eyes dart between them like a pinball machine. Sam waits expectantly, hands on her hips for Nat to explain. Natalia rubs the back of her neck looking mildly uncomfortable.

  “In exchange for Luke giving me a ride to work, I have to let him teach me all about football.” She shrugs looking sheepish.

  “Mm-hmm. Right. Are you still telling yourself you’re not in love with him too? Is that what we’re doing now? Because we all know that’s a lie.” Sam scoffs, and Natalia narrows her eyes in warning.

  “Just because I enjoy spending time with him and think he’s a good person doesn’t mean I’m in love with him, Sam. We’re friends. Just like you and me.” She scolds.

  Sam rolls her eyes and points to me and Natalia.

  “Both of you are either in denial, or living in an alternate fucking universe.”

  My eyebrows shoot up “Me?” I point an incredulous finger at myself. “What the hell did I do?”

  It’s Natalia and Sam’s turn to glare at me now.

  “Please, Aliza, we all know how you feel about Chase, yet you keep acting like it’s not a huge deal, when obviously, it is. Just fuck his brains out, dude, I’m telling you.” Sam deadpans.

  “Sam!” Natalia punches her in the arm before taking a deep breath and being the voice of reason as always.

  “I would highly advise you not to go around fucking his brains out, not only is that impossible but it’s emotional suicide!”

  “Emotional suicide, seriously? That was the best you could come up with?” Sam swears, and grumbles under her breath.

  “You know what, you guys are right.” I point out, effectively gaining their attention. “I try not to act like it’s a big deal because I don’t want it to be. Even if I think I want to pursue something with Chase – it’s not worth it,” I say trying to convince myself that this is how I really feel.

  Natalia nods her head at me in understanding and gives me a relieved smile for thinking clearly.

  “He’s my boss and quite frankly, a man whore. I can’t live like that, knowing he’s sleeping with a shit ton of other women just makes me nauseous. I’m not that girl. I refuse to be that girl. I’m worth more than a cheap screw or just another notch on someone’s bedpost. I have standards and class,” I state firmly and proudly. Natalia’s eyes suddenly go wide as saucers.

  What did I say?

  When I look at Sam’s expression my heart drops. For the first time, ever, Sam looks offended. She subtly shakes her head and scoffs before storming off toward the back of the bar without a second glance my way. I open my mouth to call after her and say something, but nothing comes out. I blow out a defeated sigh, clenching my eyes shut. I feel like a complete asshole.

  Good job, Aliza, insult one of your only friends here.

  I look at Natalia pleadingly.

  “I didn’t mean anything by it, I swear.” I try to explain. Natalia pulls me into her side and hugs me lightly. Her sweet scent engulfs me calming me slightly.

  “I know. I know,” she says soothingly. “She’s been pretty moody lately after Alex ended their little sleeping arrangement. Now…well she’s just angry. Sam may always act tough but deep down she wants what every other girl does.” I lift my brows in confusion. She smiles placating me.

  “Love, Aliza. She wants to be loved just as much as we all do. Her version of love may be a little twisted, especially after the way she grew up, but she still wants it.”

  And with that, she pats my back lightly, taking off toward a table to fill out orders. My shoulders slump and I deflate. I force myself to get to work and hope I can fix this. I spend the first half of my shift thinking of a way to make it up to Sam before we work the bar together.

  ***

  Halfway into my shift I can’t help but hate my current situation. Working the bar with Sam is horrible. And by horrible I totally mean, horrible. I’ve never felt more hated in all my life and now it’s affecting the way I work. I never realized how much of my slack Sam would pick up on my behalf.

  “Round of shots for the guys on the left,” she points to the rowdy side of the bar, “and two Bahama Mamas for table three.” She shoves two glasses in my hands without making eye contact. I gape at her in horror.
>
  “But I’ve never made a drink in my life; this isn’t part of my job.” I squeak with wide eyes. Sam finally lifts her green eyes to mine and now I kind of wish she hadn’t. Green fury burns behind her eyes. She shrugs her shoulders bitterly, “Not my problem. I’m just a classless whore. Figure it out yourself.” She turns away before my mouth can open. Every time I try to steal a second to apologize she just moves around me like we’re strangers.

  With a sigh, I sift through the bar’s cheat sheet for the drinks, finding the Bahama Mama recipe, and work as quickly as possible. Twenty minutes later I have two Bahama Mama’s and a round of shots to go with a bar full of impatient patrons.

  “Get a move on it!” Sam snarls while hurrying to make other drinks. I quicken my pace, and hurriedly distribute the shots, and then set off to drop off the Bahama’s to table three. My steps falter as I get closer to the table. Of course, on my worst days, she of all people would be here.

  Erin.

  I take a deep breath and plaster on my fakest smile, placing the drinks on the table for her and her friend, hoping and praying they won’t notice me. It’s the same girl that was there at her store—her little minion. Erin and her friend are talking animatedly, and I think I have a chance of getting away unscathed, until they both notice my presence. Erin smiles deviously across the table at her friend before turning back to me with a shit eating grin.

  “Well, look who it is, little miss creeper peeper is the help,” she taunts, and I go red in the face. “You know what honey; we decided we no longer want Bahama Mama’s. How about, hmmm, I don’t know,” she says looking around the room for dramatic effect. “Sex on the Beach. For the both of us.” She dismisses me with a snarky smile and a wave of her hand. My smile wavers, thinning out as I nod my head. I return back to the bar with the drinks, fuming. Between Erin, the snitch, and Sam rolling her eyes at me every five seconds my blood is now boiling in rage; I’m about to explode. I inhale small short puffs of breaths to calm me, but it does nothing to help. I hurry back to Erin’s table with her new order. I place the drinks on the table a little more aggressively than necessary.

  “Two orders of Sex on the Beach. Anything else?” I say trying to hide the irritation in my voice.

  Erin’s smirk is wicked and it does nothing but increase my anger further. She wraps her fake plump lips around the straw and takes a sip before scrunching her face.

  “That’s disgusting.” She spits with distaste. My fists clench at my sides at her brazen rudeness.

  “Make it again.” She dead pans, her eyes dancing with mirth.

  My blood is boiling and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep my anger in check.

  “You asked for a Sex on the Beach, and that’s what I made you,” I say tersely. Erin shakes her head.

  “No. I didn’t. For starters, this tastes like shit, nothing like a Sex on the Beach. Plus, I asked for a Bahama Mama not a Sex on the Beach. You should really learn how to follow orders, Hun.” She smirks to her friend across the table. My nails dig into the palm of my clenched fist, and it takes all my self-control to rein in my temper.

  “No. You didn’t,” I grind out accusingly.

  Erin shakes her head and tsk’s me.

  “Such bad manners. I’d like to speak with the owner. Run along and get CJ for me, will you?” She says dismissively. I close my eyes tightly before opening them and nodding my head stiffly. Quickly turning away in search of Chase, I march up the stairs and knock lightly on his office door.

  “What!” He barks. I gasp at the coldness in his voice. Does he automatically assume it’s me? Is that why he’s so angry? I swallow thickly before opening the door slowly, afraid to enter. He’s focused on the paperwork splayed out across his desk when I walk in. He lifts his head up and raises his brows when he sees me. The embarrassment from yesterday hits me full force. His irritated expression doesn’t waver.

  “Yeah?” He asks impatiently at my silence. My embarrassment quickly dissolves into shock then anger. I don’t know if it’s my shit mood or his tone of voice that catches me off guard, but I glare back at him in response to his attitude.

  “Erin asked to speak to you personally.” I emphasize her name. The same damn girl you said wasn’t your girlfriend.

  I make no effort to hide the anger in my voice. I’m praying I won’t get a reaction out of him just for her. He doesn’t look back up from his paperwork or say anything so I just stand there feeling irrelevant.

  “Anything else?” he says dryly without lifting his head again. I let out a humorless laugh and roll my eyes staring at the ceiling tempering my anger.

  Stay calm, Aliza. Stay calm.

  Too late.

  I storm out of his office without a word and down the stairs back to work. I angrily work behind the bar the rest of my shift, and don’t even bother going back to Erin’s table the rest of the night, I also don’t ask anyone else to cover her table for me either. Don’t really give a shit, Erin and her friend can wait all night for some help but they aren’t getting shit from me. I block out everything around me and find myself daydreaming about attacking Erin viciously. It’s a step up from what I usually think about all day.

  The rest of my shift is long and tiresome. Sam is still angry with me and refuses to look at me. I’m angry with myself and my nonexistent filter, as well as Erin and Chase. I could strangle them both right now. Just as I finish with my shift, I’m about to gather all my stuff when a tall form blocks my path casting a shadow over me. I stumble to halt and glance up staring into Chase’s frustrated expression. My stomach starts buzzing, and my heart starts racing—both in fear and excitement.

  God damn, stupid, butterflies.

  “My office.” He grinds out before stalking off. The anger that I’ve tried to keep in check all day boils to the surface ready to bubble over. I’m on the verge of exploding. I try to take deep calming breaths on my way up the stairs to his office. I don’t bother knocking when I enter. That would’ve been the polite thing to do but I’m not interested in being polite anymore. He’s sitting at his desk running a hand through his already tousled blonde hair in frustration. I stand stoic near the door and wait for him to acknowledge my presence. He scrubs his hands down his face before realizing I’m in the room.

  “Come in and take a seat.”

  “I’ll stand.” I shoot back. His eyes dart to mine and narrow at my defiance.

  “Sit.” He commands. I clench my teeth and my hands fist at my sides angrily as I sit down in the seat across from him.

  “I had a serious complaint about you today, Aliza.”

  “I’m sure you did.” I grumble under my breath, rolling my eyes.

  “Do you want me to go over the list?” He seethes. It’s a rhetorical question because I know he’s going to tell me either way.

  “Let’s see, rude, snarky, unable to bring the customer a correct order, and you didn’t even come back to finish helping them or even have the decency to have someone else cover the table!”

  Our gazes collide and I can feel the anger seeping from him, travelling over me in waves. His eyes are a stormy blue when he’s this angry. His jaw is locked in place tightly and he continues to sit across from me glaring. I glare right back at him.

  How dare he believe that manipulative bitch over me? Unable to hold in my anger any longer I explode.

  “Let’s get something straight here, I have been nothing but professional to every single customer that comes in here. Your little girlfriend and her friend were toying with me for their amusement.” His hands ball into fists on the desk. “She specifically asked for one drink then switched to another every time I brought her order. When I finally decided to call her out on it she wanted to speak to you, no doubt for a complaint. After your rude little brush off earlier, I decided you could handle her whenever you decided to, oh, I don’t know, hop off your damn high horse.” Venom laces my words and my breathing is erratic after my burst of anger. The vein in my neck protrudes and strains against my sk
in. His jaw ticks and he leans forward slightly.

  “Anything else you’d like to say, Aliza?”

  I narrow my eyes and scoff, “You bet your ass there is. You want to know what my problem is, Chase?” I ask sarcastically. “It’s you.” I stand up from the chair and point across the desk at him aggressively. “You’re my damn problem! You’re so damn infuriating.”

  “Is that right?” His jaw grinds back and forth. He leans back in his chair resting his arms above his head; the movement showcases all his muscles and I want to scream. I run my hands through my hair and let out a frustrated grunt.

  “First off, you kiss me, and then act like it never happened. You were the instigator and didn’t even have the decency to talk to me about it; you just gave me the cold shoulder. Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you talk to me, let alone the way you look at me.” I start counting off all the problems I have with him on my fingers. “You’re a flirt, and a man whore, not to mention a smug asshole.” The muscles in his jaw loosen and his lip twitches. I narrow my eyes and feel the anger seeping off me in waves.

  He thinks I’m funny?

  Oh no, that smug son of a bitch!

  “Is this amusing to you?” I place my hands on his desk and lean forward into his personal space. My voice is eerily calm, the exact opposite of how I’m feeling at the moment.

  “Is this what you do, huh? Toy with girls for your amusement? Well you chose the wrong one because I don’t have time for your stupid games, Chase. I’m not one of your stupid bimbo blondes, and I sure as hell am not Erin.”

  My chest heaves blowing out angry spurts of air after that speech. Chases blue eyes burn holes through my skull, looking equally pissed off. We continue staring each other down from our positions across the desk. I know I may have overstepped a few bounds but enough is enough, I’m over it. Chase uncrosses his ankle from his leg and sits up straight, leaning forward into my space now. The closeness of his face forces me to lean back away from him. His cologne and minty breath wreak havoc on my senses.