by Ingrid Diaz
Alix
&
Valerie
Ingrid Diaz
Nuance
Bedazzled Ink Publishing Company * Fairfield, California
© 2008 Ingrid Diaz
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the publisher.
978-1-934452-11-0 ebook
First Published 2008
Front cover
Karine Brousse
Cover layout
C.A. Casey
Nuance Books
a division of
Bedazzled Ink Publishing Company
Fairfield, California
http://www.bedazzledink.com/nuance
For K, who makes each day feel special
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Amber, Amy G., Bird, James, Cindy, Sheila and Christy for being constant sources of inspiration and amusement during the writing of this novel. Also to Lish, Cherri, Jenn, Kavin, Tricea and Coslima, for their friendship and their unwavering enthusiasm over anything I write. I’d also like to thank Lyan, Julia, Yuhwei, and Matt for making me laugh every day both in-game and out. Thank you to all of my readers. Thank you to Carrie, my editor, for all of her hard work. Special thanks to Claudia for all of her support and for having such faith in my writing. Thank you to Karine, who stands at my side through anything and everything and keeps me (somewhat) sane. And last but not least, thank you to my parents, for all of their love and encouragement no matter what I do.
Part I
Alix
Chapter 1
I told her not to choose pink. No, I begged her. I got down on my hands and knees and pleaded with my best friend to have mercy on my soul.
“But this dress is so nice,” Jessica argued, holding it up and smiling mischievously at the torture she was putting me through. “You’ll look adorable.”
The lady who was helping us at the bridal shop nodded in agreement, and I resigned myself to the inevitable fate that was the dreaded dress. I grabbed it and went into the dressing room to change out of the torn black jeans and black Aerosmith tee shirt I sported that day, an ensemble that matched my gloomy mood quite perfectly. The mirror reflected a shattered heart trying desperately to hide its true state. I felt like crying, but didn’t. I didn’t want Jessica to see how much this was hurting me. She didn’t deserve my pain being thrown in her face.
I dumped my clothes on the floor and threw the dress over my head. The material felt cool against my skin, a contrast to the cotton and denim I was so used to wearing. I had no idea what material the dress was made of, but already I hated it. I loathed what it represented: the bitter taste of hope’s dying embers. And here I was . . . putting it on, like a second place winner settling for her loss.
The reflection in the mirror changed, and I was startled momentarily to see myself in a puffy pink dress. It clashed severely with the blue hue of my hair, and I felt utterly ridiculous.
I stepped out into the shop, where Jessica and the woman, whose name I think was Crystal were talking intently. They stopped when they heard me walk in and stared at me. I bit my lip, a habit I’d developed my senior year of high school unbeknownst to myself until Jessica had pointed it out. “I feel like a walking advertisement for Pepto Bismol,” I muttered, glancing down at myself.
Jessica smiled and walked all around me, taking in my ridiculous attire with an amused expression. “Really, Alix, like I could pass up the opportunity to stick you in a dress?”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You shall pay, Mrs. Collins,” I told her, my tone masking the pain behind the words.
At that moment, the door to the bridal shop burst open, announcing an anxious costumer. Roxanne Perez in all of her Latina glory stopped in mid-stride and stared straight at me, her mouth hanging open in surprise. Then she started laughing hysterically, pointing at me as she did so.
I would have beaten her up, but I decided to be mature and ladylike. After all, I was in a pink dress. You can’t get more ladylike than that. So, instead, I looked at Jessica for help and received a pat on the head for my efforts.
When Roxanne finally calmed down enough to speak, the first words out of her mouth were, “Alix, you look like an Easter egg!”
I didn’t find this amusing, but I felt vulnerable in my pink-clad state and had no intention of encouraging any further comments on my dress. Instead, I smiled and replied, “Wait until you see your dress.”
Roxanne glanced worriedly at Jessica, who smiled broadly. “What are you making me wear?”
I crossed my arms, waiting for the shoe to drop.
As if on cue, Crystal brought out Roxanne’s bridesmaid dress. It was orange. It was hideous. It was the most beautiful sight I had ever laid eyes on, and Roxanne stared at it in horror for over a minute.
“I am not wearing that!”
Jessica waved away the comment. “If I got Alix to wear a pink dress, I can get you to wear an orange one.” She took the dress from Crystal and handed it to a stunned Roxanne. “Into the dressing room you go.” She pushed Roxanne inside and closed the door. She turned around and smiled at me. “I love weddings. They’re the perfect excuse to torture my friends.”
Torture. Funny she should choose that word.
Roxanne walked out of the dressing room a few minutes later, and I started laughing. Now we both looked ridiculous. “Orange is not my color!” she stated, holding the dress up for emphasis.
“Oh, ’cause pink is mine?” I retorted.
She looked at me impatiently. “No, you look completely ridiculous, but that’s normal for you.”
Jessica was enjoying this, I could tell. Her blue eyes were sparkling with held back laughter, and a smile played on her lips. It was almost enough to make me forget the hideous thing I was wearing.
Almost.
For once in my life, I had to side with Roxanne. “Jess, you know I love you, but if you don’t pick a different dress for me, I shall be attending your wedding in the nude.”
“Oh God, no,” Roxanne muttered. “You know she’ll do it.”
I smiled to myself. They both knew I wouldn’t.
Jessica started laughing; a hearty sound that will forever be music to my ears. “You guys really think I’d make you wear those things to my wedding?” She shook her head and motioned to Crystal who appeared with two identical dresses: one black, the other violet. Jessica smiled. “These are the real ones.”
Black. I looked at Jessica at that moment, and she caught my gaze and winked. I would’ve worn the dreadful pink dress for her. And she knew it.
Ò
A couple of hours later, I walked into my dorm room to find my roommate sprawled on the floor, staring intently down at a book whose cover I could not see. I dropped my keys on my desk.
“Hey,” I greeted.
“Men are evil,” my roommate informed me, not looking up.
Nicole Fischer was a twenty-two year-old Women’s Studies major and an avid feminist. She spoke constantly of Bell Hooks, Adrienne Rich, and a zillion other names I could never remember. At first I thought these were friends of hers, but later I learned the truth.
“So are women,” I told her, collapsing on my bed with a groan. I felt emotionally drained. This wedding was wreaking havoc on my heart.
“Jessica?” she guessed, finally looking up. Her light brown eyes showed concern, and she pushed the loose strands of brown hair behind her ears.
I simply nodded. “Two days until the wedding.”
“I’m sorry, babe.” Nicole lifted herself up from the floor and sat down on her bed so she could see me better. “Did you get a dress?”
“It’s black.”
Nicole laug
hed. “That figures. You don’t wear any other color.”
“I’m in a constant state of mourning,” I replied dryly. “‘Black is all I see when I close my eyes, Black is in the night when the windows close, Black is all, yet nothing at all . . .’”
“Is that one yours?” Nicole asked.
“Nah. Jade’s.”
“Speaking of Jade, she called twice. And your sister called once.” Nicole returned to the floor to continue her reading.
I reached for the phone and dialed my twin sister’s phone number. Rachel picked up on the second ring. “What’s up?” I asked.
“Who’s this?” Rachel asked, confusion in her voice.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not a matter of who am I, it’s a matter of where am I.”
“That’s better. Hi, Alix. You sounded far too normal to be yourself for a moment.”
“Forgive me, Satan, if I’m not up to par. It hasn’t been what you would call a good day.”
“Please stop calling me Satan. It was funny when we were seven, but now it’s just annoying.”
“Sorry, Lucifer. To what do I owe the pleasure of your call?”
“Stripper,” Rachel responded. “And before you reply with some smartass comment about incest, let me clarify. I meant the stripper for Jessica’s bachelorette party.”
“What about him?” I asked, annoyed at the entire concept.
“Well, did you call him? I mean, the whole thing’s arranged right?”
The joys of being maid of honor. “Yeah, he’s coming. Everything’s set. We’re meeting at Jessica’s at seven tomorrow.”
“Cool. See you there.”
“Adios.” I hung up, and dialed Jade Cooper’s number. An English-accented voice picked up a few rings later. “Hey Jay. You rang?”
“It was about bloody time. Listen, do you want to go out tonight? I thought we could go clubbing. We can pick up some guys.”
“Guys?”
“Or girls, whatever,” Jade replied. “Pick me up around eight and we’ll have some fun. We’ll see about getting your mind off of Jessica getting married.”
I laughed sadly. “I don’t think anything could get my mind off of that.” I thought about Jade’s proposition for a moment, and then shrugged. I had no plans. “Okay. Be ready by eight.”
Ò
At seven-fifty, my vintage VW beetle putt-putt-putted its way to Jade’s house. She lived with her crazy Aunt Fifi, and I do mean crazy, in a two-story house the size of a shoebox. I’m not sure what it was that Aunt Fifi did for a living, seeing as she should have been committed, but I’ve never thought to ask. It was one of those mysteries of life better left uncovered.
I pulled into Jade’s driveway and honked the horn a couple of times. I turned up Aerosmith’s “Angel” as I waited. This had become my theme song over the years and for the past few weeks I couldn’t bring myself to listen to anything else.
A fuzzy head peered out of the window, and I waved. A second later, Jade Cooper stepped out onto the porch and joined me inside the vehicle. The night of her graduation from high school, she had gone through with what she’d threatened to do for a year: she buzzed off her hair. When I’d first met Jade, her hair had been long and blue, it had then evolved to purple, then to red, then to orange, then to yellow, then to black, back to blue, and before I knew it, it was all gone. Two years later, it was still quite nonexistent, and I had grown accustomed to having a near-bald-headed friend. Perhaps when I’d dyed my own hair blue, it was in loving tribute to Jade’s.
On this occasion she was clad in a tight black tee with the Sliders cast—she’d had a crush on Jerry O’Connell for as long as I’d known her—across the front, and a long black skirt, Doc Martins as usual, and her trademark fishnet stockings.
As for myself, I’d opted for the please-don’t-try-to-pick-me-up look, which consisted of black Jnco jeans and a black Care Bears tee shirt with a picture of Grumpy Bear in the center. In this outfit, they’d never buy my fake ID.
“Not that bloody song again.” Jade reached over, ejected my tape, and replaced it with her own. Soon Metallica filled the small confinements of the car, and I pulled out of the driveway, already used to the ritual of music exchange.
“So where are we going?” I asked, turning down the music so I wouldn’t have to scream over James Hetfield.
Jade shrugged, lighting a cigarette and rolling down the window. “My friend Beth said there was this cool new club in Ft. Lauderdale. Whispers or something.”
She handed me the directions, and I glanced down at them. It was near South Beach. I could find it.
“So I’m thinking of letting my hair grow out,” Jade said.
I took my eyes off the road to glance at her. “Yeah? Tired of getting hit on by girls instead of guys?”
“Actually yes. My sex life is suffering.” She laughed. “Actually, I’m getting bored. You can’t do much with peach fuzz hair, and I miss the colors.”
I nodded. “Well, I’m getting rid of the blue tomorrow.”
“Going back to your original brown?” Jade inquired, flicking the cigarette outside. “I like the blue, Al, it gives color to your otherwise morbid personality.”
I looked at her. “Yeah, you’re one to talk.” Then I shrugged. “Actually, I haven’t decided on a color yet. I just didn’t want to have blue hair for Jessica’s wedding. She didn’t say anything, but still. I was thinking of dyeing it black.”
“And what color’s the dress?”
“Black.”
Jade started laughing. “You’re going to be like a pair of green eyes against a sea of darkness. Trying to turn yourself into a cat?”
“The transformation is almost complete,” I assured her. “I just decided to shave for the occasion.”
Jade shook her head and turned up Metallica. “‘Nothing Else Matters.’ You love this song.”
And I do. We sat in companionable silence the rest of the way to the club.
Chapter 2
The smell of smoke and liquor assaulted my nose and lungs upon entering the nightclub. My fake ID passed inspection with flying colors, and I wondered if my real ID would ever fare as well as my fake one when I turned twenty-one the following month.
Jade abandoned me after ten minutes to mingle on the dance floor, and I resigned myself to a table near the bar.
Whispers seemed like a nice-enough establishment and would have been graded less harshly had my mood been better. After seven years of unrequited love, one tended to grow slightly bitter at the world.
“Anything to drink?”
I looked up at the waitress standing before me. “Dr. Pepper if you have it,” I replied. There was no sense in getting drunk and driving into a tree, or a lake for that matter.
“Designated driver?” the waitress guessed.
I shrugged, and she walked away, leaving me alone with my myriad of thoughts. I looked around. It was a straight club, much to my dismay, although with its location in downtown Ft. Lauderdale I couldn’t attest for the straightness of the people inside. Either way, it wasn’t as if I’d planned on hooking up with anyone.
Jade joined me at the table, slightly sweaty and out of breath from jumping around on the dance floor. She held up a napkin proudly and grinned. “Only been here for half an hour and already I got digits.”
I grabbed the napkin and looked at it, then handed it back. “And does Katrina know you don’t swing that way?”
“Actually, this is for you,” Jade explained, handing it back. “She gave me her number, and I told her that you were probably more her type. And then she said she had to run.”
“So she took one look at me and ran?”
“Yes. Quite literally actually.” Jade shrugged. “Don’t know how you do it, Al.”
“It’s a gift,” I replied dryly.
“It’s not like you’re ugly or anything,” Jade continued.
The waitress appeared with my Dr. Pepper on the rocks, and I was grateful for the interruption. I took a si
p and tried not to sigh.
Jade regarded the waitress. “Help me out here. Would you say my friend is ugly?”
I nearly spit out the gulp of soda.
“I wouldn’t say that,” the waitress replied.
I looked up into light blue eyes and felt myself blush, an oddity in itself.
“So, given that you were of that orientation,” Jade continued, much to my annoyance, “would you even go as far as saying that she’s attractive.”
“Quite,” the waitress answered and winked in my direction before moving on to another table.
I shook my head, and Jade shrugged.
“So there you have it,” she said, “it’s not your looks.” She stared at me, hazel eyes narrowing in deep concentration as she studied my face.
I frowned. “Don’t look at me like that, Jade. It freaks me out.”
“Hey, she didn’t ask if I wanted anything to drink,” Jade complained, looking around.
I placed my cup in front of her. “Here. Drink. Give your vocal cords a rest.”
“You know I can’t stand that crap.” She made a face to illustrate her point. “It tastes like medicine.”
I took back my soda and held it protectively. “Don’t listen to her,” I whispered to the glass. “She knows not what she says.”
“I’m going to stop by the bar and then back to the dance floor,” Jade announced. “Care to join me?”
I shook my head no, and Jade left in search of alcohol.
I was bored. I had anticipated that I would be so I’d brought a book, Jennifer Fulton’s Greener Than Grass, but it was far too dark to read where I was sitting. I finished my drink and dropped some money on the table to pay for it, along with an overly friendly tip. I tended to over tip as it was, but the waitress humoring Jade went far and beyond the call of duty.
