by Loretta Lost
“Sophie, you’re my only friend,” Luciana whispers.
“Bullshit. All of this? Shopping for pretty dresses, mani-pedis, girly things that we never do—this was all a ploy. Agent Lopez—are you investigating me?”
“No!” she sighs, looking around uncomfortably. “Cole didn’t have to tell me, Sophie. I already knew.”
“How could you know?”
“I’m not an idiot, Sophie. I’ve worked beside you for years. I’ve seen you acting, speaking like different people throughout the day. I’ve seen you spacing out at your desk. You’re a genius, that’s for sure, but you’re also damaged. And after what just happened, all of that pain is going to be a little harder to manage, okay? I’m trying to help.”
“I don’t need your help. I needed a friend. And you’ve been lying to me all day, pretending to have fun shopping with me? That’s low, Lopez.”
“Sophie, I did have fun! I had a blast. I feel like a fucking princess in this dress, and I’m going to rock that Gucci purse. I’m also enjoying the wine and conversation—I’ve been begging you to have wine with me for forever!”
“So you could shrink my head?” I ask.
“No! Look, someone has to say it. Cole is too in love with you, or maybe he’s just too used to your strange behavior, since you were young. But he’s been keeping this a secret from you for way too long. Sophie, you have dissociative identity disorder. There’s nothing wrong with it, it’s a completely natural response to childhood trauma. But you could probably benefit from talking to someone—maybe it could help you understand it, or have a little more control.”
“Control,” I say angrily. “Control so that other parts of me stay locked up and don’t come out to play? Control so that they can’t access the body, or do anything, ever, and just stay stuck inside her mind, rotting away? Just use me when she needs me, then toss me in the trash. Like I’m not even human.”
“Snow,” Cole says. “Is that you? Sit down. Come on, it’s okay. We just want to talk.”
“We—I knew you were in on this. I knew that you told her.”
“He didn’t tell me anything. He just mentioned, after we heard about how Benjamin died, that he knew a cannibalistic assassin who would do something like that.”
I turn to Cole, my eyes flashing with hatred. “You called me a cannibalistic assassin?” I hiss. “That’s what you think of me? Why? Is it because I ate someone’s penis?”
“Snow—”
“All the other girls they found at that place were skeletons—skeletons they only found because of me. Those girls didn’t cannibalize or assassinate anyone, and that’s why they’re just a pile of bones. Do you know how close she—I came to being a pile of bones, too? But instead, here I am, wearing his bones. I call that being successful.”
“It’s a beautiful necklace,” Luciana says, reaching out to touch it as it hangs around my neck. “It matches your evening gown surprisingly well.”
“You guys think I’m crazy,” I whisper, “but I did what I had to do.”
Luciana puts her arms around my shoulders, giving me a hug. “We all love you, Sophie, Scarlett, Snow—whoever you are. You’re my friend, okay? I’m just trying to help. And I still want you to work for me. I think your ability to survive is part of what makes you brilliant. Please don’t be mad at me. I had the best day with you.”
I take a deep, shuddering breath. I hug her back, and I am almost able to relax enough to enjoy the scent of her perfume. Wow, women smell way better than men. I also enjoy the feeling of her breasts pressed against me, and her soft long hair against my arms. I glare at Cole angrily as I hug her, and give him the middle finger behind Luciana’s back.
He smiles weakly at me. I almost wish I could make out with her to piss him off even more.
Although, he’d probably like that. Men are weird.
“Is everything okay here?” asks the waiter, approaching our table. “Is the food satisfactory?”
“Yes, of course,” I answer. “My friends here are all trying to convince me to go vegan, and complaining about my dietary choices. But I really like meat, you know?” I glance down at his name tag. “Lucas, don’t you think a woman has a right to eat as much meat as she pleases?”
“Sure, miss. Absolutely.”
“Thank you, Lucas. In fact, I’d like to order a side of sausage, extra rare. Don’t cook it at all. Just bring it out here dripping in blood. I’m going to chew it very, very slowly.”
His eyes widen. “Yes, of course ma’am. Right away.”
Cole begins to cough quietly, and Detective Rodriguez’s face grows very pale.
I smile at them both, sweetly.
Luciana laughs. “We should really go out for dinner more often, Shields.”
Sitting back down, I resume eating my meal as though nothing has happened, only occasionally glaring at Cole. I want to tell them all that this is my first real meal, ever, and maybe even making a joke that if I was allowed to eat more real food, I wouldn’t have to eat penises.
But I just feel a little down. I feel like I trust everyone a little less. I can’t believe Cole spoke about me like that. Cannibalistic assassin. I mean, it’s technically true, but it’s not the most flattering description. I remember how I ripped a chunk of flesh out of Professor Brown’s neck, with my teeth, shortly after my first kiss with Cole.
Is that what he really thinks of me?
I use my knife to cut small pieces off my steak, and I feel like the table has gone very quiet. I feel a little bit out of place, and if I was assured that I could eat many more delicious meals like this, I would probably storm out of the restaurant.
But I could go to sleep tonight and never wake up. She could wake up instead.
So I’m going to enjoy my goddamned steak and lobster—and my raw sausage, when it arrives.
And I’m also going to order several desserts off the menu, and stuff it all into my face.
Rodriguez clears his throat, leaning closer to Cole to whisper. “So, she really ate his penis?”
“Yeah.”
“I mean, how does that work in the bedroom?” Rodriguez asks, innocently unaware that he is terrible at whispering. “That’s got to make blowjobs weird for the rest of your life, right?”
“Roddy…”
“What if she uses a little teeth?”
“Rodriguez!” Cole snaps.
“Sorry, sorry. I’m a detective. I like to ask the hard questions.”
Chapter Eight
Lying in bed at the suite at the Ritz, I stare at the skyscrapers.
Dinner was a disaster.
I am trying to relax and calm down, wearing only my favorite Pikachu boxers in almost an act of rebellion against Luciana, who seems to hate them so much.
I can’t believe she told Snow what I called her. The look of hurt and shock on her face made me feel horrible. I don’t know how to explain that I meant it fondly.
The frequency with which Snow has been popping out today has made me unsettled. I think I’ve seen her at least three times in the last 24 hours. Maybe more. I know that after the whole experience with Benjamin, Scarlett became more aware of Snow. They might have even achieved some kind of co-consciousness, or sharing the body at the same time. I don’t completely understand it, to be honest.
I tried to Google some information, but it sent me down a weird rabbit hole.
I had to take a break.
This suite has two bathrooms, so Scarlett and I were both able to shower upon coming up to the room. But I was finished with mine an hour ago, and she still hasn’t come to bed. I have been a little worried about her, and have gotten up a few times and considered entering the bathroom.
When we were younger, she would often sit in the bathtub for hours, staring into space. But I’m trying to give her some privacy, and not seem overly worried.
Instead, I found myself researching some tower designs, and staring out of the window, dreaming about the job in Pakistan. When we were discussing it over din
ner, I felt shivers running through my body, imagining the beautiful structure rising from the ground and stretching to the sky.
This could really be the one: my magnum opus.
Maybe I’m just being idealistic. I thought that way about many projects I designed, until they were completed, or even halfway completed—and I had to switch my focus to the next job. But this tower sounds like a lot of fun—an opportunity to fuse functionality with fabulous form, and really build something that inspires people for miles around. A tourist attraction that brings people from all over the world.
See? I’m getting ahead of myself.
I always get too excited about these things.
The huge bed is getting a little cold and lonely, and I push myself up to go find Scarlett. Knocking lightly on the bathroom door, I wait for a response.
“Scar? Are you in there?”
She does not answer. I twist the doorknob and push the door open, and find the bathroom to be empty. Frowning, I move to open the bedroom door, and gaze into the main area of the suite. I see a figure lying on the couch, wearing one of the white hotel robes.
She is curled up slightly, and facing the back of the couch.
“Hey, Scar,” I say softly in surprise. “Are you sleeping?”
She does not answer.
“Are you mad at me?” I ask her.
Again, she does not answer. I feel anxiety mounting in my chest. “Scarlett,” I say, moving over to her and sitting on the couch. I brush some hair away from her face, and her forehead feels hot to the touch. “How are you feeling?”
“Shitty,” she responds.
“Why?”
“I think it was the sausage.”
I burst out laughing. “Eating raw meat is not usually a good idea.”
“I was already full by the time it came. But you guys seemed so eager for a reenactment—and I wanted to provide some live dinner theatre. We didn’t have time for Broadway.”
“But you could have chewed,” I inform her.
She clutches her abdomen and groans. “That’s what stomach acid is for.”
“You were so excited to spend the night here with me, before. Why don’t you come to bed?”
She does not respond.
“Scarlett,” I say softly, rubbing my hand up and down her arm. I sigh and nudge her body, making some room for me to lie on the couch behind her. I wrap my arm around her middle. “I’m sorry if I made you upset. I didn’t mean to say those things to Luciana. I didn’t mean to tell her, like that.”
“She already knew,” Scarlett says. “It’s not your fault. I’m just crazy.”
“You’re not crazy,” I say, kissing the back of her neck. “You’re wonderful. You’re incredible. You’re unstoppable. You’re magical.”
“Are you just trying to get laid?” she asks me, with annoyance.
But I think I can detect a slight smile in her voice.
“Absolutely. One hundred percent. I must get laid, immediately. Something about watching you eat that sausage.”
She can’t suppress her giggles, and I can feel her body vibrating with laugher under my arm. It doesn’t sound sensual and feminine like Luciana’s laugh—more like the dorky laugh of a teenage girl I used to know, who wore thick, black-rimmed librarian glasses. It is my favorite sound in the whole world.
“Do you think Little Ricky gave Lucy the jewelry? Do you think it worked?” she asks me.
“I’m not sure. But the extra wine she had at dinner—after you yelled at us—that probably helped.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s okay—that was bad timing for her to send the questionnaire. She shouldn’t have texted it over so casually, and expect you’d wait until later to read it. She knows you read everything you can get your hands on, as soon as possible. She was complaining about how many of her books you stole at work.”
“Speaking of which, I need to get Helen to autograph a book for Luciana, at the wedding.”
“For sure. You know, I can’t believe we have a family wedding to go to? We never had any family. It makes me feel a little like normal people.”
She turns toward me, studying me in the dim light of the dark room.
“Are you sure that you really like me, Cole? All of me—”
“Yes, Scar, I love you like a John Legend song. Your imperfections are total perfection.”
“Don’t make fun of me,” she says, kicking my leg gently.
“I’m not. I’m dead serious. I love you, and I love Snow. I have never met Joy, but I love her too. Her choice of name is very Inside Out. And I’ve barely met Sibyl, but she seems bitchy and complicated, really tough exterior with a heart of gold. My kind of woman. Her choice of name reminds me of that movie from the 70s.”
“What movie?”
“You’ve never seen Sibyl? You must have. That name must come from there.”
“No. Sibyl like the psychic from Ancient Greece, who lived in a cave. I think she’s like a thousand years old or something.”
“How do you know that? You said you didn’t know anything about her.”
“The questionnaire made me reevaluate certain things. I’ve been listening more closely to what’s going on inside my head. It’s a little scary.”
I smile and press a kiss against the corner of her lips. “See? Luciana is trying to help. She loves you.”
“Do you think she’s a lesbian?”
I pause. Then I start chuckling softly to myself, wondering if that’s what made me uncomfortable when they were shopping. Jealousy. “It’s highly possible, but for Roddy’s sake, I sure hope not.”
“She was really touchy-feely with me, right? Am I imagining that?”
“Nope. She was definitely all over you.”
Scarlett smiles. “Then you better be real nice to me, Cole Hunter, or I’ll give up on raw sausage and become a lesbian, too. After tonight, I might never want to look at a sausage again, for as long as I live. So you’re going to have to convince me otherwise.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask her, reaching for the strings of her robe and untying it. “How exactly would you like me to be nice to you?”
“Why don’t you surprise me?” she responds.
When I loosen up her robe and slide my hands inside, I am surprised that my fingers do not connect with only bare skin. Instead, there is a material that feels like lace. Confused, I push the robe aside to view the garment underneath.
“Uhh, Lucy convinced me to get sexy lingerie,” she says with embarrassment. “I was going to try to seduce you, but then I got all sad and contemplative.”
“Why would you ever need to seduce me?” I ask her.
“I don’t know. You just didn’t seem to like me very much, today.”
“You’re insane,” I tell her, standing up and getting off the couch.
She looks startled at the removal of my body heat, and reaches for me. But I lean down and scoop her up in my arms, to take her to the bedroom.
“Totally insane,” I tell her, tossing her onto the bed. “That’s my professional psych evaluation.”
She giggles and shrugs out of the robe. “Get this crap off me.”
I slip my fingers under the sides of her lacy panties, and tug them down over her hips. I toss them aside, before moving up to her chest and unclasping the bra.
She sighs in relief, snuggling down under the covers. “Much better. Get in here with me.”
I step out of my sexy Pikachu shorts, and slide in behind her, positioning my body close to her warmth. I nestle against her perfectly until our bodies melt together, and it is the most blissful feeling.
“You left the curtains open,” she teases. “So you can see the buildings.”
“Yes,” I say, nuzzling her shoulder. “You were right, Scar. It’s the best view on the planet. If we only have one night in New York, we gotta do it right. And I just couldn’t enjoy this while you were so far away, in the next room.”
“It was so far away,” she says, reaching for
my hand. “It is way nicer here, in the big comfy bed with you.”
My eyes drift over the nighttime skyline, drinking in the city lights.
I stare for so long that I can feel her falling asleep in my arms.
“This is our last time here, isn’t it,” I whisper.
“Mmm?” she responds in a sleepy voice. “New York?”
“The United States.”
This wakes her up a little, and she turns back slightly to look at me. “Oh god, I hope so. I don’t know too much about the rest of the world, but something has got to be better than this, right?”
“Well, if the current presidential election is any indication, I’m not sure this country is going to be improving much over the next few years.”
“Yeah,” she murmurs.
“What does it matter if the economy is booming and we all grow richer? Is that worth the cost of filling our home with more hatred? Taking huge steps backward in the way that we find it acceptable to treat women?”
“This whole generation is already ruined,” Scarlett says. “We see our leaders behaving like this, and it makes it okay. It makes it heroic. So, in forty or fifty years, when today’s young men are wealthy politicians in positions of power, they’ll be… Benjamin. They’ll think they can get away with anything. And they’ll be right.”
“You didn’t let him get away with it, Scar.”
“I nearly did.” She pauses, and I can feel her breathing catch. “I always knew that he killed part of me when I was a child, a part I could never get back. I didn’t know there were still more parts of me to kill.”
“And even more parts of you to heal,” I assure her. “Thank god for that.”
“God and evolutionary psychology,” she says with a forced laugh.
I can hear the hitch in her voice, and I reach up to touch her face, and find the wetness on her cheeks. I wrap my arms around her, holding her tightly, and trying to absorb all her pain.
“I have suffered so much here,” she whispers through her tears. “Run away with me, Cole. Let’s escape to a private island, somewhere exotic, and drink colorful cocktails all day.”
