No one had more fight or flight instilled in her than Alicia. Her otherwise antagonistic nature begged her to throw some words into her boyfriend’s face before running away again. Why not combine both fight and flight into one heated argument? She could speak her mind and be done with the whole situation.
But that look on Devon’s face… not even Alicia could do that to the man she had somewhat loved for the better part of a year. Even with her head swelling with thoughts of another person – a person she would never have again – she knew that she owed Devon at least one last conversation.
So she went to the couch and sat down, purse securely situated between her thighs. She hoped Devon would join her. In turn, Devon hoped she would put her purse away and insinuate she’d be staying a while.
“I’m sorry for worrying you.” Alicia did not look at him. “You must be so angry.”
“Not angry.” Devon contained the panic struggling to rise in his voice. “Just confused.”
“I wish I knew how to explain everything.”
“Are you gay?”
“What?”
Devon bristled in embarrassment. God, where had that question come from? Was that really the first thing he wanted to ask her? “Just be honest with me.”
“No.” She was too quick to say it. “I mean, no, I’m not a lesbian.”
“So was your relationship with… was that a onetime thing?”
Alicia shrugged. “I never intended for you to find out about that. Which begs the question… how the hell do you know Danielle?”
This time it was Devon on the spot – what should he tell her? The truth? Did he even care anymore? “We are working on a project together. She was exhausted the other day, so I let her take a nap so she wouldn’t fall asleep at the wheel. Trying to be nice and shit.”
“What the hell kind of project would you two be working on together?”
“Um…”
“You know what? It doesn’t matter.” Alicia held up her hands. “I more or less accept the fact that this is God fucking with me. First, I start hearing her voice everywhere I go… now I know it really was her on the phone with you all those times. Why wouldn’t she show up in my home too? It’s like the universe wants me to think I’m gay again.”
“Again? You’re not making any sense.”
There was no animosity in his voice, yet Alicia still flinched. This was a woman who used to embrace every single label that made her feel more empowered. Woman. Liberal. Feminist. Bostonian. Social justice advocate. In love with another woman. Danielle had always laughed at how much her girlfriend clung to her precious labels. Danielle never did. Whenever Alicia demanded to know how Danielle identified, she always received a sarcastic, “Myself.” It wasn’t until the end of their relationship that Danielle finally started throwing around the B word, and that was only because she didn’t hate the thought of dating men.
“I don’t know,” she said to Devon. “All I know is that I don’t mind men or women.”
“So you’re bi.” Devon shouldn’t have been so relieved. Did the thought of her being bisexual as opposed to lesbian really give him hope that they could stay together?
Alicia languidly shook her head. “I don’t know. I’m not enamored with labels anymore. They confuse me.” She glanced at him, sharing the slump in his shoulders. “Look, I never hated sex with you or anything, but I would be lying if I said I never fantasized about a woman a few times…”
This confession filled Devon’s mouth with a bad taste. Was that how she really felt during their relationship? Of course it was. Why would he expect anything else? Even he agreed that their love life was lackluster. Sometimes spectacular, but more likely a soft groan than a burst of passionate pleasure. “Why didn’t you ever tell me these things before? Like before we even moved in together? I mean, together for nearly a year, and I never saw you look at another woman. I don’t think it’s because you were so in love with me.”
“You’re right,” Alicia was quick to respond. “I was trying to fool myself into thinking that it was wrong. It made me feel better about some things I did if I convinced myself I was straight.”
“I see.” Devon had no idea how he was supposed to empathize with her. This wavering between “I want it to be right, but it feels wrong,” was over his head, especially when he compared Alicia to Danielle, who was more than confident in her sexuality. Was it possible for those two to have ever dated? “I guess it doesn’t matter then.” He held his hand out for her to take. When she didn’t move, Devon gently took her hand into his. “Even though I still love you.”
She gave him a sorry smile in return. Sad. Apologetic. A flash of “We’re still going to break up.” “I know you do,” she said. “You must, to put up with my bullshit.”
“Are we okay?”
“I don’t know. Think I’ll stay with my friend for another couple of days.” Alicia couldn’t stand that pained look in her boyfriend’s eyes. “But it’s not because I hate you. I simply need a break for a little while, so I can figure my shit out.”
“Are we really so screwed up?”
“Not for any fault of yours,” Alicia said. “You’ve put up with so much bullshit on my part that it’s a wonder you still have any affection for me. I should consider myself lucky.”
“I want to help you feel better.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
Kissing Alicia now seemed like kissing another woman. Was this how she used to be with Danielle? Wearing her heart on her sleeve instead of shoving it deep down? Who was she, really? When they met, Alicia was drunk off her ass and crying for the relationship she lost. Since then, she had hardened her emotions and focused on the most practical course of action wherever she went. Devon was a reliable boyfriend who was convenient for living expenses. He didn’t make her too uncomfortable, unlike some men she had dated before. Now? The emotions were returning. She needed to run and let the man be free for a little while. Free from her bullshit, anyway.
Devon tried to take her hand again. Too bad his phone rang, making them both jump.
“Sorry,” he muttered, taking his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah?”
“We’re on TV,” Danielle said. “The stolen statue is being covered by the news. Apparently that old lady got hurt after we left?”
“Who is that?” Alicia asked. “It’s Danielle, isn’t it?”
Devon held his hand over his phone. “What?”
She shot Devon a look filled with so much chagrin that she almost burst. “I can’t do this.” Alicia leaped up from the couch. “This is too weird. I’m going back to Jenna’s until I can get my thoughts straightened out.”
She flew out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
***
Miranda sat on her bed, TV remote in one hand and a small box in the other.
“Mrs. Gonzalez is awake and reportedly no longer in shock.” A picture of Mrs. Gonzalez appeared beside the blond reporter’s head. “The assailants have yet to be caught, and the Bay Area Police are advising all residents to be wary for the next few days. Please keep your doors and windows locked at night and do not go out alone. As for the St. Lucia statue, there are no leads as to who took it or its current location. Please call the following number if you have any information…”
Miranda turned down the volume before turning her attention to the box in her left hand.
Usually, she was content with only touching the box, its weight and width a snug fit in her hands. Dust accumulated beneath the single green ribbon wrapped around it. Since the day she purchased this ring – or was it her friend who purchased this ring for her? She couldn’t quite remember – it had largely remained in this box, since wearing it brought too much pain. Spiritually. Physically, too.
She popped open the lid.
Only a ring. A gold band with an opaque blue stone in the flimsy setting. A jeweler would have praised it as mediocre, perfect for old women who
wished to look gaudy on the cheap. A historian would have praised it for its old-world charms. Miranda praised it as her most precious possession, a random trinket she received from a street seller back in Japan.
Miranda held the ring in the palm of her hand. A hot tear burned the corner of her eye, but she willed herself not to cry. The first time she held this ring, grief, scorn, and memories she had yet to reconcile in this life washed over her. When she realized its power, she swore she would never let herself be separated from it again until the day she could give it away to the woman it was meant to wear.
Her hand trembled under the onus of the light ring. Every nerve in her body screamed at her to put it on, to admire her hand wearing this blue and gold ring. She resisted.
“That ring has the power to destroy this world, doesn’t it?”
Miranda looked up, not surprised to see Syrfila standing in her bedroom doorway. “Stop breaking into my house.” That was all she could say.
Syrfila slouched against the doorframe and pulled a cigarette out from her back pocket. “It’s not breaking in if I use the key you keep leaving behind.”
“Don’t smoke in my house, either.”
Syrfila did not light her cigarette, but let it sit in her mouth. “When are you going to give that ring up to me?”
Miranda closed her hand over it. “I would sooner cut your throat.”
Syrfila guffawed, cigarette still between lips as she glanced at the images playing on Miranda’s TV. “I take it you saw the news.”
“Yes. Bad news for you, I suppose. Did you have any idea that was a Relic?”
“It was on my list of shit to investigate. You know, the list I shared with you in the hopes that you would help me?”
Miranda hesitated. Why speak when she was already so transfixed on the ring? “You do realize that you could die, right?”
“I told you, I don’t want to die.” Syrfila took the cigarette out of her mouth. “And I won’t. I’ll get off this planet before that happens. But that’s why I need you to play your part when I’m gone.” She pushed herself away from the doorframe and approached Miranda in her bed. “Either way, you may be the biggest hero of us all, depending on which side you’re on.”
Miranda finally slipped the ring onto her finger. Syrfila was one of the only people allowed to see her cry like this, and she didn’t care what the monster did with the image in her head.
***
Danielle awoke on her couch.
“Do you see this?” the familiar, faraway voice said on the edge of her dreams – her memories forever locked away. “It’s made of zatbah. That rare gem from Yahzen. It’s said to collect the love and memories of whoever wears it. Cost a pretty penny to get, but the master craftsman said I passed his bloodline test. They don’t let anyone who is less than half julah wear this kind of gem.”
Danielle rolled over, forcing her eyes open and that voice out of her head. Even so, something choked her.
Something she couldn’t shake, no matter how quickly she moved her head in circles.
“What are you going to do with something like that?”
“Wear it, of course. I’m going to fill it with our mutual dreams and desires.”
“You should be sent back to the Void for saying such cheesy shit like that.”
“Yet you love it. Tell me that you don’t.”
“I’d rather love you.”
Dare Danielle remember? Dare she go further down that dark rabbit hole? It didn’t matter if those memories of a time so long ago were warm and full of hope. What was the point when they were the reason for so much death and turmoil in the universe?
***
Four men sat around their musical instruments, a severe want for beer grasping their bodies.
“Oh my God,” Serge moaned, his left hand resting on top of a piece of ice. Ten hours straight of nothing but guitar playing was going to kill him. “I can’t take it anymore. My hand feels like it’s hacked by a chainsaw. And I still don’t know the interlude for ‘Hit the Roof’ yet!” He balled up his fist and slammed it onto the ice. Bad idea. “What the fuck are we going to do? I’m the lead guitarist! Chicks are gonna see me mess up!”
Andy rounded on him. “What chicks do you plan on impressing tomorrow?”
“Just sayin’, babe. I’m the lead guitarist. Chicks look to me for sexual inspiration. Shit, if I fuck up, that could be it for the band. Oh my God, we are screwed…”
“Man, it’s okay.” Clyde was sprawled out on the couch with his bass slipping onto the floor. “I don’t know all the chords to the second song we’re playing. I don’t even remember the title. My brain is fried.”
“Nobody cares, bass player. It’s not like we can hear you anyway.”
“Hey!”
Rodney chuckled from behind his drum set. “What are the three most difficult years of a bass player’s life?” Taking the bait, the rest of the room listened with semi-rapt attention. “Second grade.”
“Oh yeah? Well, why do scientists prefer to use guitarists over rats for lab experiments? Because they breed faster, and people don’t get attached to them.”
“What do you call a guy who hangs out with musicians? The drummer.”
“Hey, Devon, how do you know that there’s a singer at your door?” Serge paused. “Because he can’t find the key and doesn’t know when to come in.”
The others laughed while Devon sat with his guitar still in his lap, eyes planted firmly on his open but unresponsive cell phone screen. Serge stopped laughing and disregarded Devon’s silence. His girlfriend, on the other hand, kept a close eye on the lead singer of the band. “Come on, Dev,” she began. “I’m sure she’ll get in contact with you again later. Hey, she’ll probably be at the show tomorrow.”
“Yeah, man, don’t let Alicia get you down.”
When Clyde stole a glance at Devon’s cell phone screen and saw Danielle’s name, he decided to not say anything. Yet.
The other bandmates dispersed to rest up for next day’s big performance. Once they were alone, Clyde descended upon his friend. “Do we need to talk about this again?”
“Huh?”
“Why are you obsessing over her?”
Devon looked at his friend with two tired eyes. “I don’t know. I have a feeling, that’s all. I want to call her, but… I feel like that would be a bad idea. She’s probably sick of me anyway.”
“Well, she does have her own life, dude. With chicks.”
“I know, but… she and I …well…”
“Stop it. This is disgusting. For fuck’s sake, call Alicia for all I care, but this whole Danielle thing needs to stop before you lose your mind. She’s gay, you’re not getting any, end of story.” Clyde snatched his bass case into his hand. “I swear to God, dude, I knew you fell hard when you fell, but I will never understand this. She’s not even your type!”
Devon snapped his phone shut. He wouldn’t even address that sexist remark. Not because he couldn’t, but because his mouth was full of more vitriol. “Let’s not fight, okay? We got the biggest show of our lives tomorrow. I know nothing is going to happen, okay? But it’s a little hard trying to let go of feelings that I’ve been carrying for a thousand years.”
“Tell them to check themselves at the door. Forget this, I’m going home and getting some sleep. You should too.” Clyde slammed the practice room door behind him.
When he was gone, Devon flipped open his cell phone again. Danielle’s name and number lit up. Lord, what would they talk about? There was nothing they had in common aside from their past and their mission.
Pointless. The sooner he put those thoughts out of his head, the better. Even if his heart was already on the verge of breaking because Alicia was barely in his life now. She was probably out washing away her thoughts of Devon with another man – or woman! Who fucking knew anymore?
“Be the bigger man, dude.”
He was about to go to sleep when he received a call from Alicia.
“I’m sorry,
” she said. “I thought I would leave you a voicemail. Did I wake you?”
“No. What is it?”
She cleared her throat. “I was just calling to see how you were doing, and to wish you good luck on tomorrow’s show.”
“Aren’t you coming?”
“I don’t know.”
Devon was both grateful to be alone in the practice room and terrified that it meant he would make foolish mistakes. “I miss you, Alicia. I wish you were here.”
“I…” Was she still clearing her throat, or was that choking? “I’ll come home soon. I promise. Until then, I think it’s best if we go our separate ways. Take a break, you know?”
“And after that? When you finally decide to come back?”
“Maybe we could start looking for an apartment together?”
It was the closest thing they were going to get to exchanging declarations of love that night. Devon placed the cell phone in front of him. Clyde was right. He needed to get Danielle off his mind, because there was at least one other woman possibly waiting for him out there.
Devon cleaned up the last of the practice equipment. Music would have to trump women for the time being… assuming his concert wasn’t blasted wide open by someone with too many guns on their hands.
TWENTY-FIVE
“God, how do I let you talk me into these things?”
Troy pulled his car into the last available parking space along a tiring line of convertibles, minivans, and Winnebagos. They had expected throngs of people capitalizing on the beginning of Memorial Day weekend, yet they still groaned at the sheer amount of people – mostly tourists – out on a brief vacation. Or as far as the locals were concerned, out to make their lives as inconvenient as possible.
“Because you know that without me, you would have no social life.” Troy put his car into park and attempted to open his door. Unfortunately, the presence of a cramped SUV forced him to crawl over the front seats. Too bad Danielle still wasn’t moving from hers.
“I don’t wanna,” she moaned.
Rebirth (Cross Book 1) Page 26
