by Nicole Smith
SCARLETT'S WILL
BOOK ONE
MAGIC IN THE SMOKE
By
Nicole T Smith
* * * * *
PUBLISHED BY:
Nicole T Smith
SCARLETT'S WILL
Copyright © 2013 by Nicole T Smith
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental. The author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
No Part of this book can be reproduced in any form or by electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without the permission in writing from author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
For information:
tristamariesmith.wordpress.com
Cover Photo: oneinamillion
SCARLETT'S WILL
for my William, no matter the
years and the miles that
have separated us
I am still
haunted by your
memory
~
This burning, all consuming memory of a time, of a boy that stole my heart then vanished from my life. Why now, do I miss him so? Is he alive? I can’t think of that. Should I try and find him or should I just enjoy the memories while I wait for this re-emerging pain to fade away again.
I feel like I’m sinking into the past, into a time that went by so quickly but felt like a lifetime. A memory of another life, another me that I thought I would never lose and sadly I wish now that I could bring her back. She was young, naive and reckless. She was tiny but so full of life and adventure, she just didn’t know how to contain it. She fell for everything. She believed everyone. She believed in love.
I’ve heard in the past that teenagers don’t know what true love is. They are too young to know what love really feels like. They don’t have the experience, but that is so wrong. No one loves like the young. Every gasp of air for a girl in love is beautiful. Every thought is precious. Every touch from the boy she loves runs through her body like a lightening storm. His kiss is the sweetest dessert, his hands are her protection, his arms are her shield from the world. His voice is a lullaby. Teenagers feel love to their core, which is why a heartbreak feels like their world has just ended.
CHAPTER ONE
“Get out of my head!” my father yelled as he poured himself another shot. “You are dead to me,” he snarled as he threw it back. I stood stock still, afraid to move. He didn't seem to notice my presence and if he did he chose to ignore it. Either way worked for me. I waited in the shadows for him to drink two more shots before picking up the unlabeled decanter and taking it with him down the hall. I watched him stumble into his den, slamming the door behind him.
I believed at the time that my father's drinking was a result of living through the nineteen seventies, following the free love and drugs era. I based this on the stories I heard from their friends. I could tell my mother experienced difficulties letting go of it. She kept everything that reminded her of those years. Thankfully she didn't still wear the clothes but she kept them in her closet. When I was younger I would sneak in to her bedroom and dress up in them. I wore her bell bottom low rise jeans and her deep dark red crocheted poncho, with feathers and beads weaved into my braids. I considered wearing her crocheted bikini once but quickly realized it was just too skimpy for me. Sometimes I even wore my fathers brown suede jacket with the fringe on the sleeves. I would spend hours looking through their old Polaroids, examining every detail. The women and the men wore their hair long and they always seemed to be smiling or laughing looking through their rose colored glasses. I usually looked a little too closely at my father's pictures. It always appeared to me that there was someone or something standing behind him. It must have just been the lighting or the camera angle but it just seemed odd to me that it was only his pictures that held this faded image.
I also began to realize that once the parties ended and the years passed a lot of their friends from these pictures later became yuppies or whatever but most of them still held on to their addictions. I assumed this was why my father told me once that he is possessed by a few demons and he needs to chase them down with hard liquor to quite them. On the days when he appears to be losing the battle and their voices scream in his head I vanish. If you can't find me hiding in my bedroom then I'm out of the house, just walking the streets, hanging at the cafe or the arcade. Funny I know, an arcade, but it was a pretty popular place then. You’ll have to remember, back in 1988 we didn't have cell phones or the Internet. Music was bought and photos were developed.
I started to drink myself when it was offered to me at parties. I thought maybe I could try and drown my demons too. Eventually I started staying away from home on the weekends completely, avoiding any chance of running into him fighting his battles. My friends began to expect me over. I guess you could say I wasn't just hiding from my father, I was rebelling against my parents and their rules too. Not that they were perfect but they expected me to be. I stopped going to church on Sundays, which infuriated my mother, but I only found more guilt and shame in it. I attended a catholic high school. I was the girl that rolled up her skirt and wore thigh high black socks with doc martens to class. A little black lace peeking through my white dress shirt, unbuttoned a little too low. I put on red lipstick and black eyeliner daily. At sixteen I was still a natural brunette. I hadn't discovered hair dye yet.
Many things in my life began to change that year. I used to love Corey Hart and Footloose was once my favorite movie, but during my sixteenth year Ministry and the Sex Pistols took over. I began to smoke and hang out with what my mother would call ‘devil boys’. I liked their bad attitudes and their carefree lifestyle. I dated a little, I had a few boyfriends before I met him but I never allowed them to touch me too much. I wanted love, I craved it but I was never satisfied with any of them. After a few weeks of dating I always broke it off. I stopped calling them, I would avoid them if they came around the arcade. I can’t say I was nice to them, but it didn't matter to me at the time. I had never been serious about a boy until the day I met him. It felt like I was searching for someone, waiting for someone.
Everything I did seemed pretty tame before that day. On the day I met him, the day he turned my world upside down, I had been with two of my best friends, Carmen and Cassandra. We were so excited to be going downtown Toronto to see one of our favorite bands perform. Dancing around Carmen’s tiny bedroom, I pulled on my black stockings with a line up the back. Choosing a burnt orange mini skirt, a snug black tee shirt and a black blazer to top it all off. I teased my straight brown hair up, coughing in the hairspray filled room. I applied a deep dark red to my lips and traced my eyes with black eyeliner.
The three of us screamed as the band took the stage. Depeche Mode had quickly become one of my favorite bands. I would listen to them in my bedroom at night, with the lights out, sinking into my own Black Celebration. We knew the words to all of their songs. As the crowd swayed and the stage lights flashed I felt free. All my issues seemed to disappear leaving me with a feeling of excitement and an eagerness for something more. I just wasn’t sure then what more I wanted until I met him. The three of us danced and sang to every song, laughing and hugging each other like the young girls that we were. When the show was over all three of us still felt so exhilarated that we didn’t want to go home yet. I wanted to prolong this feeling, this release. We collectively decided to enjoy our bit of freedom. We began walking around the stadium, taking in all the people before making it back to Carmen’s mother, who waited for us in the parking lot.
We walked through
the clouds of cigarette smoke that held a hint of something different, something in the smoke made my head spin. The warm muggy evening air began to make me uncomfortable. I took off my blazer and held it in my hand as we continued to walk around, singing and dancing, basically making fools of ourselves when I bumped into someone. I quickly turned to apologize when I realized I bumped into a boy, a stunning boy actually. He was grinning at me. I was relieved that he didn't seem mad by the interruption. I began to say sorry when I became suddenly lost, entranced almost. He was looking into my eyes and I found I couldn't look away from him. I lost my voice for a moment.
“Hi, I’m Buddy,” he broke the silence, holding out his hand. I tried to hold back a little giggle.
“Really? Your name is Buddy?” I asked, still not looking away from his bright blue eyes.
“Not really but that’s what everyone I know calls me and you are?” he asked. He seemed so confident and interested in me.
“I’m Scar,” I said, as he leaned closer to me.
“Is that short for something?” he asked.
“Scarlett,” I told him. I could see that he tried to hold back a smile.
“Really? Your name is Scarlett?” he asked, mimicking my words exactly from just a few moments earlier.
“It’s actually Scarlett Rayne,” I told him, smiling. I took this chance to look him over. He wore tall black laced up doc martens, ripped jeans and chains that hung perfectly on his thigh. His snug tee shirt and black leather jacket excited me. His ears were pierced and his hair was spiked, his dirty blond Mohawk stood shockingly high. I felt tame standing in front of him. I kept expecting him to walk away, but he stayed in place, searching my eyes, as if he wanted to find some answer in them. He didn't want me to leave. I heard my friends telling me it was time to go but I couldn’t turn away from him. I nodded, still not looking away.
“Can I walk with you?” he asked. I breathed out, unaware that I was holding my breath, thrilled by his suggestion.
“Yes, of course,” I managed to say. My friends began to walk ahead of me as I followed behind with Buddy. A few of his friends lingered behind us.
“Did you enjoy the show?” he asked, walking so close to me I could feel his arm against mine. The warm leather lightly brushing against my bare skin.
“It was amazing, exactly as I dreamed it would be,” I gushed, smiling as I remembered the concert again.
“They do put on a good show,” he agreed. “I almost missed it but a friend of mine told me he just landed a bunch of tickets and offered me one. I tend to go to more smaller club shows, mosh pits are more my thing, but I decided to come cause I love music. So here I am, walking with you,” he said, grinning at me again.
“Lucky you,” I teased, grinning back. “Do you live in Toronto?” I asked, digging for more information on this boy I didn’t want to say good-bye to.
“No, actually I live in Buffalo,” he informed me. I couldn’t hide my disappointment. I looked ahead, realizing this was it as we neared the parking lot. I felt a sense of panic wash over me. My heart began beating too quickly, my stomach was turning as I looked up at him. I felt his fingers intertwine with mine as he held my hand and suddenly a calmness overtook my panic. I looked into his eyes, wondering how it could be possible that this stranger made my anxiety disappear. How is it possible that just a touch from him could calm me and why does he feel so comfortable, so familiar and so meant for me.
“Scarlett Rayne, will you come home with me?” he whispered, pulling me out of my thoughts. I gasped, shocked by his sudden plea. No boy has ever been so bold with me before.
“I can’t go to the United States,” I told him. Not sure if I really could or not, but I felt like I needed to at least try and protest his request.
“I’ll give you my address, tell the border patrol it’s your home and he’ll let you pass,” he instructed me as if I already said yes to his offer. I glanced down at his hand holding mine.
“Scarlett, I can’t let you go. I’ve met you for a reason tonight. I need to know you. I promise I’ll keep you safe and bring you back when you ask me to,” he almost begged. I didn't realize that we had stopped moving. My friends were walking far ahead of us now. I must have gone crazy, but I felt like I couldn't leave him either. He reached for my other hand and pulled me closer to him. I stood mesmerized in front of him. He released my hands and I immediately felt his arms wrap around my shoulders, startled but pleased by how good it felt as I rested my hands on his hips and closed my eyes. He turned me away from the direction my friends took and led me to his car. With his arm wrapped around my shoulder, I glanced up at him. He was smiling and seemed so happy, as though he’d just won the lottery or something.
I felt incredibly nervous as we headed toward the border. I know I should tell him to stop, to bring me back. I should not be doing this. I needed to call home, my parents were going to kill me. Although I have been fighting with them constantly for awhile now, maybe some time away is a good idea, I tried to convince myself. Buddy sensed my apprehension and placed his hand on my knee, gently.
“It’s okay Scarlett, I promise you this is right,” he said, glancing at me before concentrating on the road again. One of his friends sitting behind me leaned forward and handed me a burning rolled smoke.
“It’ll calm you darlin,” he mumbled. I could tell he had consumed more than enough, his eyes were barely open, I didn’t know how he could see out of them. I decided it was worth a shot, because I couldn't stop shaking. I took it from him and finished it off. He placed his hands on my shoulders, squeezing gently.
“Better now?” he whispered, before leaning back again. I turned and looked back at him smiling. “Thanks, better now. I'm Scarlett,” I said as I coughed.
“Nice to meet you Scarlett, I'm Ira and that big lug is Evander,” he said grinning as he smacked his shoulder. Evander just nodded at me then looked back out the window.
Settling back against the seat, I tried to remember Buddy’s address again as we neared the border. I quickly pulled out my notebook and dug through my bag for a pen. I wrote it down, then reread it a few times. I should be afraid of getting it wrong but surprisingly I wasn't feeling too worried about it anymore.
We pulled up to the border and I sat calmly as the patrol looked in at me then the back seat. “What’s your hometown?” he asked each of us. We all replied Buffalo. He stared at me a moment longer then asked why we were in Canada tonight. Buddy answered him calmly, sounding confident. I held my hands together, trying not to shake. The man looked at me again and I smiled briefly at him.
“Welcome back,” he said, waving us through. As soon as Buddy rolled up his window and drove away I released all the air I had held inside, a nervous habit of mine.
“Wow, that was intense,” I said as he pulled the car into the nearest fast food place across the border. The two guys in the back hopped out. Buddy told them what he wanted and they ran inside. He walked over to me as I leaned against the back of his car. He reached for my hands and turned me to face him. Holding both my hands in his he pulled me close to him.
“You were great back there, I’m impressed,” he said sweetly.
“Thank you, I tried to give the impression of calmness, you know, that it is completely normal for a young girl to cross the border with a strange man she just met less than an hour ago,” I said sarcastically as I looked up at him. He was staring at me, grinning.
“What?” I asked, looking away from him, feeling shy for the first time since meeting him.
“I am just so happy you are here, you’re actually coming home with me tonight,” he said, as though it is something he has been waiting a long time for.
“I think I have lost my mind, gone completely crazy, possibly temporary insanity but more like totally loco,” I blurted, laughing. He kissed my hands then released them as his friends jumped back into the car. Buddy handed me a bag and told me to eat. I smiled and nibbled on fries. I fed him as he drove into the city. I have never been a
cross the border before. I kind of began to feel excited. This was an adventure that I knew I would remember forever. Buddy must have been feeling excited too, he smiled as I placed another fry in his mouth. He turned up the stereo, blaring God Save the Queen.
CHAPTER TWO
Buddy dropped off his friends once we arrived downtown Buffalo. It was dark, except for the streetlights. I couldn’t really get a sense of what the city was like, all the lights felt like they were rushing by in a blur. As soon as his friends were gone the overwhelming realization that I was now alone with this striking, intense mo-hawked man made me gasp for air again. I can’t go home tonight. Tonight I am in a different country with a strange man who has promised to take care of me. When I woke up this morning I was just another sixteen year old girl excited about going to see her favorite band perform. I tried to smile as Buddy played Strangelove on the radio as he drove me to his home.
When he parked the car and turned off the ignition he moved towards me, looking at me for a moment. “We’re here. Let me get you settled Scarlett,” he said with a wink. I nodded, all of a sudden feeling exhausted. Inside he led me downstairs to his basement apartment. He flipped up a dimmer switch, giving the dark room a subtle glow. It was a small L-shaped room. There was a bed on one side and around the corner I noticed a couch and a television. I walked over to the couch and sat down.
“Mi casa su casa,” he said smiling. “The bathroom is just around the corner,” he informed me, pointing towards a hall that led to another door. I nodded, then watched him as he turned on a lamp and pulled out a tray from beside the stereo, which he turned on, Pretty Vacant played. Seemed appropriate as all I could do was watch Buddy prepare a couple of joints or smokes as I preferred to call it because it didn’t seem so bad. I crouched down onto the floor beside him as he lit one and handed it to me. I leaned against the wall as I let the warm fuzzy feeling envelope me. He leaned back with me. We sat in silence for awhile, listening to music, lost in our own thoughts. He eventually stood and brought some blankets to the couch. I was grateful for his thoughtfulness.
