by Kenya Wright
I’d just arrived last night. That evening, I lay in bed and swore a dead woman sang this sad song. However, it could’ve just been the ocean breeze whispering through the windows. Or it could’ve just been me. In this mood, everyone—even the spirits—walked in gloom.
Cindy opened the door and peeked inside. “The guests just got on the bus to go to Mallory Square.”
The sun took center stage here. Mallory Square had a daily sunset celebration ceremony full of fire-eaters, jugglers, and musicians.
Cindy showed me her watch. “You have twenty minutes.”
“Good.” I jumped off the bed and gathered my things. “The spell is supposed to be right at sunset. I still have time.”
“This is insane.” Cindy stepped inside, looking like she’d just strolled down the stage of a runway. She wore heels, designer slacks, and a lovely silk blouse. My sister was a stunning dark-skinned woman. Her makeup was perfection—beautiful plums to highlight her brown complexion. Her long black hair curled at the ends. A little gray peeked at the edges. I hated that gray. Cindy and Victor were never supposed to get older.
She shook her head, but smiled the whole time. “What the hell do you have on?”
My coffin black gown hugged my body. Rose-shaped sequins covered the bust. Silk formed the rest and flowed out to the floor. Usually, I slung my red dreadlocks into a ponytail and threw a baseball cap on. Tonight, I’d let my long mane fall to my waist.
Cindy laughed. “Where did you get that gown?”
“A pawn shop on Main Street.”
“So...” She laughed again. “Why are you wearing it?”
“Because Greg and my love died. So tonight, is the funeral where I mourn the loss and walk away free.”
“Really, Yaz? Overdramatic much?” She walked over to where my unpacked luggage lay. “Are you really going to do this?”
“Of course.” I stuffed my bag with all the spell’s ingredients—vial of holy water, bundle of sage, seven black candles, lighter fluid, cinnamon, sticks, pictures of my ex-fiancé, and a large bottle of rum. “Fuck, where’s the blood?”
“Blood?” She widened her eyes in shock. “You’re ridiculous.”
“It’s in the spell.”
“You do realize that magic isn’t real and even if it was, you’re not a witch?”
“Noted.”
“Jesus Christ, you have a ball gown on.”
“Shut it.”
“Don’t scare my guests away.”
“I won’t.”
“Yaz, are you okay?” my sister asked. “Like...mentally...okay?”
Sucking my teeth, I turned back to her. “Did you bring the romance novel?”
“Yes.” She showed me a thick book. On the cover, a full moon glowed in the background. At the center was a silhouette of a muscular man carrying a big-breasted mermaid. “This is my favorite. It takes you into another world where—”
“Come on. I said don’t bring your favorite.”
“Yeah, but I wanted you to get caught up in an amazing story, instead of drag around the beach like a crazy woman doing spells and anything else to get your mind off Greg.”
“I’m not going to drag around the beach. I promise.” I held up my hand like a boy scout would. “And by the way, doing things like this helps me get out of my funk.”
“Spells?”
“Yes. I’m reconnecting with earth. I’m rooting my spirit back to the planet.”
“Why can’t you just smoke weed and binge watch shows on Netflix like everyone else?” Cindy shook her head. “No, you have to do spells and conjure ghosts.”
“Weed and Netflix?” I raised my eyebrows “Who have you been hanging around?”
“My guests keep me relevant.” She held out the book to me. “I’m just saying. Be careful with this spell stuff. You’re leaning very close off the ledge and I’m afraid you’re going to fall. What’s next, a séance to the dead? A summoning of the devil?”
“I wouldn’t do anything that crazy.” I gave up on my search for the vial of blood. “The spell is more a metaphor than witchcraft.”
“You shouldn’t play with this. It could attract the wrong type of things. I don’t play with voodoo stuff. Just like I don’t go running around in a forest during a full moon.”
I glanced over my shoulder. “Why?”
She shrugged. “Werewolves.”
“Wow.” Laughing for the first time in a long time, I grabbed the romance novel, put it with the rest of my things, and headed out. “Fine. I told you not to give me your favorite, but whatever. I’ll just buy you another copy tomorrow.”
“Buy me another copy?” She followed me. “Why?”
“Because I’m burning your book.”
“No, the hell you will not. You will not burn Weston.”
I paused at the top of the staircase and looked over my shoulder. “Weston?”
“He’s the alpha in the book and he is so amazing.” She reached out for the novel.
“Weston?” I backed away. “He sounds like a wealthy asshole.”
“He is a wealthy asshole, but to the heroine he’s everything and more.”
“I swear I’ll buy you another one.” I left her and hurried down the stairs, passing the third floor.
“Wait.” Cindy followed. “Do not burn my book. Burn one of yours.”
I increased my speed and passed the second floor. “The spell demands that the book comes from a loved one.”
“The spell demands,” she mocked. “I don’t care. You do not have permission to burn Weston.”
“I’ll get you a brand-new copy tomorrow.” I skipped a few steps to gain more advance. “It’ll be leather bound and signed by the author.”
She was getting close. “You won’t be able to get a signed copy.”
“I can try.” I kept my distance. “I know people.”
Victor met us at the end of the staircase and grinned. “What are you two arguing about now?”
“I asked Cindy to give me a novel that wasn’t her favorite. She obliged. Now she wants it back.” I twisted around and hid behind him. “Save me from this crazy woman.”
My sister got to the end of the stairs. “Basically, I’m going to kill her if she doesn’t give me my book back.”
Chuckling, Victor grabbed his wife. “You already have two copies of that book.”
“Wow.” I wagged my finger at her. “Two copies of this chick’s work? You’ve betrayed me.”
Cindy stuck her tongue out. “I can buy books from other authors.”
“Hmmm,” I said.
“They’re emergency copies. It doesn’t matter.” She pouted, but remained in her husband’s embrace.
Victor interrupted. “The guests are gone.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Don’t we have some quality time we should be attending to?”
And then my sister forgot about the book or her favorite alpha. Victor was her king in the castle. He was the dashing knight that saved the damsel. He was the mythological god that would stop at nothing to free his heroine from a world of darkness.
Victor looked over his shoulder. “You’re safe, Yaz. Go ahead and do your spell, before the guests come back from the sunset ceremony.”
“You’re my hero.”
“Always.”
They giggled, kissed each other, and headed up the stairs. My heart ached. I loved that my sister had this perfect man that I considered a father. I just craved the same.
One day.
Sighing, I embarked on my mission, heading out the front door. It slammed behind me. The ocean breeze slipped against my skin. This side of the beach was owned by my sister and other private owners. Nearing the end of the day, no one walked around with their dogs or helped their kids make castles and dig holes.
There was no sound but the waves twirling and singing to the wind. A dance between the water and the breeze—caressing and twisting against each other.
As the sun set, a full moon rose. Like the ocean and the wind, the mo
on had an endless dance with the Earth, both orbiting the sun, but never coming close enough to touch.
I stopped by an old campfire. My sister let her guests start fires on the beach at night as long as she supervised the lighting and putting out.
I stood at the blackened-out hole, full of charred wood and ash.
Am I really going to do this?
I sat down in front of the dark circle and pulled out the items in my bag, laying each ingredient on the sand.
The fire took no time at all. I just set the sticks on the pile, poured some lighting fluid, and lit a match. Flames rose.
I took the spell out of my pocket, unfolded the cloth, re-read the page, and did each step at a time. First, I threw several cinnamon sticks on the fire. The flames crackled. An oatmeal cookie fragrance filled the air. Next came the sage to cleanse all my negative energy. The bundle fell on top and an earthy scent surrounded me. My ex had always given me roses. I’d saved many, drying them between old books filled with his letters. Now those love letters and dried petals fell into the flames.
The fire blazed with beautiful colors—glowing blue dancing within angry oranges and yellows. Green herbs melted into red petals. Black spots dotted into white pages and then gobbled all those meaningless words away.
I read out the spell. “May all the negative energy living inside of me be turned into love.”
I threw my ex’s picture on the fire next. “May all heartbreak heal. May I learn the lesson.” I slung Cindy’s book in next. “May I grow.”
The flames swallowed up the thick novel, bleeding burning orange between the blackening pages. “May I find love and not just anyone, but one that burns like the fire in front of me, shines like the stars above me, and glows like the full moon dancing above the earth.”
A dark voice came from the shadows. “You shouldn’t play with black magic. You could lose your soul.”
“Ah!” I jumped and turned.
A man stood in front of me with a bottle of wine and two glasses in his hand. He wore a white V-neck t-shirt—cotton fabric that did nothing to hide the chiseled muscle beneath. His stone-washed jeans hung loose from his hips. Leather sandals guarded his feet. I caught a symbol on the buckle. It was some designer brand that I couldn’t afford.
For one crazy moment, I wondered...
Did the spell bring him?
How could I not? This towering man appeared more like one of Cindy’s fantasy alpha heroes than a human being. Dark black hair. Glowing white skin like some vampire in a paranormal. And he had these piercing blue eyes that sliced through my soul.
I breathed in the animal scent of him. He didn’t wear cologne or some oil. No human could make that rich scent. It was all nature and the gods, spinning an enchantment around him. He smelled like the stars in the black sky. Like the bright glow of the moon as it swam among the universe.
He was velvet and midnight.
A dark smile spread across that gorgeous face. “Are you burning your sins?”
I found my voice. “No.”
“Too bad. I was hoping you could save my soul.”
“Sorry. I’m still trying to save mine.”
His cold confidence disrupted the air. I feared the flames would wither away with the new temperature. He came closer to the fire. The blaze’s glow lit every delicious angle of him.
“What are you burning?” he asked.
“Letters and roses that my ex gave me...” I stopped talking as he sat down next to the fire and set the bottle on the sand along with the glasses.
O-kay. You’re just going to invite yourself to the party?
“Do you mind?” he asked.
“I...”
He hit me with that same dark smile. “Better yet, do you remember me?”
Remember him?
That took me aback. I studied this mysterious man.
Wait. I know him.
Memories flickered in my head as I took in each detail.
“Holy shit.” I gasped. “Hawkins?”
His face fell with embarrassment. “They call me Hawk now.”
“You look freaking amazing.”
Some of his cool confidence disappeared as he blushed. “I lost a little weight.”
“Oh yes, you lost weight. You are all muscle and hardness and...” I cleared my throat. “I mean...you look...amazing.”
I swallowed as he drank me in. His gaze slipped along the top of my gown, followed down to the sequenced curve of my hips, and ended at my bare feet. “And you’re still beautiful, and even more crazy.”
I blushed.
“Would you like a glass of wine, after your spell?” His gaze rested on my hair. “I figure you drink.”
“You do. Why?”
“Because it’s nighttime and you’re in an elegant gown and burning shit on the beach. If you don’t drink, then you should be.”
“Fine.” I laughed. “I will have a glass of wine, after my—”
“Exorcism?”
“Healing spell,” I corrected. In the fire, roses burned and melted into Cindy’s prized novel and my ex’s old love letters.
He watched. “What are you healing from?”
“Heartbreak.”
“Hmmm.” An odd emotion crossed over his face. And just as I tried to study it, he shifted his expression to neutral. “These flowers are from your boyfriend and you’re mad at him?”
“They’re from my ex-fiancé and I’m done with him. I don’t care enough anymore to be mad at him.”
“Sure.”
“I’m not.”
“Okay.” A knowing smile spread over his lips as he pulled out the cork and poured us two glasses of wine. “Tell me something.” He pierced me with his gaze. “Was it really love or were you telling yourself it was?”
“It had to be.” I sat down next to him and the fire. “We were together for five years.”
“Some people sit in a relationship because they’re afraid to be alone.”
“That wasn’t me.” Suddenly uncomfortable, I poured sand over the fire to slow it down. “Well...I thought we loved each other.”
“How did he treat you?”
“In the beginning, he treated me like a princess.”
“Most do that to get what they want.”
“And then he stopped.”
“Because he got what he wanted.” He poured the glass of wine.
I frowned. “There’s no sugarcoating things with you.”
“No, that’s not my strong point.” He handed me the glass. His finger brushed against mine. His skin was warm and soft.
I had this instant urge to feel more. “How are you, Hawkins?”
He held up one finger. “You’re not allowed to call me that anymore. Everyone calls me Hawk.”
“Wow. Very adult and aggressive sounding.”
“Anything is better than Hawkins.”
“I like that name,” I said.
“It was my mother’s last name. She thought it would be cool to carry it on, not guessing that kids later would call me names like Hawky Wawky.”
“Well, I thought it was the coolest name.”
“We’ve already established that you’re eccentric, my funny little conch.”
Those born in the Keys were called Conchs. Those born other places were considered Keys Characters.
He hit me with an intense gaze. “I’m happy to see you, Yaz.”
“Me too,” I said, although I wondered why we had lost touch. It was true that childhood friends grew apart, but I thought we would stay in contact. With technology nowadays, there were so many avenues of communication. Anytime I signed up on a social media app or site, I would try to add him as a friend. I often wondered if he was just one of those people who never really got online and hadn’t seen my invite, or if he was just not interested in reconnecting.
Wow. Hawkins went from cuddly and round to a tower of muscle. Hawk it is.
“To old friends.” He raised his glass.
“Yes. To old friends.�
��
We tapped our glasses together and I sampled the wine.
“We should catch up on our lives,” I said.
“Maybe another time on the catch-up talk.” The fun expression left his face as he stared at the dark ocean dotted in moonlight. His tone darkened. “I’m currently escaping my life.”
“Me too.” I wondered what he meant, but didn’t have the courage to ask. A chilly quiet settled between us that was colder than the wind.
After a few minutes, he broke the awkward silence. “I didn’t think you would be here, but I’m glad you are.”
“I didn’t know you visited this place anymore.”
“I don’t, but this time... I needed this place.”
“I know exactly what you mean. Every time I get knocked down or hurt out in the world, I come back here.” I gestured toward Dolphin View. “I call this place, Heartbreak Hotel. I check in broken. I check out with hope and a healed heart.”
“That’s a good name. I may steal it.”
Nodding, I poured more sand onto the fire. “Luckily, you happened to walk in on my spell so hopefully the smoke around us is healing you.”
“That’s exactly why I came over here.”
Shocked, I asked. “Really? To heal from the fire?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I came here because I was looking out of my window and saw this beautifully dressed woman with red hair on the beach, and I was hoping it was you.”
He sipped some of his wine. “Once you started throwing things into the fire and chanting, I knew it was you. Still crazy and dramatic. Still Yaz.”
“And you’re still catching me doing ridiculous things on the beach.”
He turned back to the dark ocean rolling over waves in the moonlight. “I couldn’t believe it was you. I’d just spent an hour staring at a blank canvas and holding a wet paintbrush. I went to the window for inspiration and spotted you.”
“You’re an artist now?”
He finished his glass. “Do I look like an artist?”
So fine. Women probably considered many activities that Hawk did, but I bet none of them had to do with paintbrushes and canvases.
“How’s Cindy and Victor?” he asked.
“Great as usual.”
“I always liked them.”
