Then I woke up. Lying there trying to steady my breathing and slow my heart rate, I couldn’t make sense of what Lena said in my nightmare. She didn’t even resemble the Lena I knew. Thinking about how she sounded in my dream just left me with chills all over. I had to let it go. It was just a dream, a horrible dream. Dreams hardly ever made sense, so why should this one? After all, I had been through the unimaginable. But what had Lena been referring to? What was I supposed to be making a choice about? Why would she blame me for what happened with my parents?
CHAPTER 2
Sitting in a brown, leather, overstuffed chair in the front corner of Spirits, a local coffee shop in the center of town, I was fighting back a yawn. Thinking of how I’d ended up with my current life always seemed to drain me. However, when Sharon called drunk from a bar after her fling of the night abandoned her needing a designated driver duty called for me to save the day once again. The only positive in the situation was that she had called before eight o’clock. Sharon was an all-day drinker, so by the time seven or eight o’clock rolled around, I could count on the fact that she was already blitzed somewhere.
She only used my number as a last resort, so I didn’t hear from her very often. Not to mention, she begged worse than a starving, blind man at a highway intersection! Against my better judgment, I drove myself to her rescue, hoping she wouldn’t upchuck in my car on the ten-minute drive back to her house. Lucky for me, Sharon at least held her liquor until I pulled on to the gravel parking space in front of her house, which was basically a one-bedroom shack. Since I don’t deal well with sickness, nausea, and vomiting, I left Sharon on her knees in the front yard. I kind of felt like she deserved it since she purposely drank herself into oblivion.
I always had a problem when it came to having pity on those who refuse to help themselves and continue to destroy their own lives then have the audacity to complain about the fact that their life sucks. I really tried to be understanding as much as possible the way my mother always had been, but half of the time I caught myself being hard and unsympathetic like my father could often be.
Walking into Sharon’s house last night, I was sickened. I wasn’t sure how any person on the planet could live in a place like this. The first thing that hit me was the smell, which sent me automatically into dry heaving. The odor was so offensive I pulled my shirt up over my nose to try to filter the air I breathed; I could practically feel the particles of bacteria enter my body through my nose. It was the mixture of raw sewage, old garbage that hadn’t been taken out in over a week, and an overpowering scent of ammonia coming from a dirty litter box in the entryway, which was overflowing with clumps of cat urine and feces. As I went into the living room, the furniture and carpet was coated in cat hair so thick it was clear it hadn’t been vacuumed in months.
Just behind the couch was the kitchen. The sink was so full of dirty dishes that they were stacked onto the cabinets as well with food caked, dried, and molded on them. When I looked closer, I discovered maggots wriggling in the food all over the kitchen. The stove was so heavily caked in grease I was sure cockroaches were turning the place into a breeding ground while planning a strategic way to divide and conquer.
In the hallway, the smell of body odor from dirty laundry was so overwhelming that it made my eyes burn. When I got to the bathroom, my gag reflex was officially in overdrive. There were dried pools of urine, and fecal matter was smeared all over the toilet seat. Hair was stuck in soap scum all around the sides of the bathtub, and the bathroom counter had some unrecognizable residue caked a fourth of an inch thick, while the sink had dried blood all over the side.
As I stood in the doorway, looking into the small but potent bathroom, I was on the verge of passing out from the combination of putrid aromas. I was fairly certain that if anyone were to turn her in for living this way at the moment, her house would be condemned. I couldn’t leave her in this mess even though I knew she had every physical ability necessary to clean it up all by herself. It was horrible! Just breathing the air for any time period at all was toxic. I went outside to my car, shouting at Sharon that I would be back, knowing she probably didn’t hear a word I said. Then I headed for the nearest store.
Ten minutes later, I had every cleaning supply known to man and three pairs of rubber gloves. As I hauled my purchases inside, I noticed Sharon had made it past the mountains of laundry without falling and injuring herself, landed diagonally on her bed, and passed out with her shoes still on. I was actually glad. If she was asleep, that meant I didn’t have to associate with her. I looked around, assessing the damage, and figured the quicker I started the quicker I would be done. Pulling on the rubber gloves as far as I could toward my elbows, I decided to tackle the laundry first. When I was done with all the laundry, I came to the conclusion that there were at least three other people’s clothes here besides Sharon’s.
Everything about this house in general was repulsive. Why on earth anyone would allow the place they lived in to get so out of hand, I would never be able to understand.
My temper flared and I felt my temperature start to rise. I felt it start in my feet as a slow tingle. I knew it was coming. The temper I had gotten from my dad had the tendency to come on so quickly that I never had time to try and take control of it. When I lost it, I always felt as though someone had replaced the blood in my body with kerosene—as it got hotter, the angrier I became. I now felt the tingling heat of anger over more than half of my body rising toward my head. I knew when I felt my face flush with heat that soon everything would go black and I would once again have no recollection of what happened until it was over.
It only took me two and a half hours after I had come back to full consciousness to find the place sparkling and smelling like a house should. I was finished in record time and couldn’t help thinking even Mr. Clean himself would have given me a well-deserved pat on the back for my efforts. Unfortunately, I became so exhausted that I didn’t think I should drive for fear of falling asleep at the wheel or being pulled over and suspected of driving under the influence. I pulled out my phone, debating on texting Lena to let her know where I was, but didn’t. I hadn’t asked what her plans were before I left the house and didn’t want to interrupt her if she was busy. More than likely, she was probably out on some hot date with some hot guy that she met in some questionable place while wearing some provocative outfit, which danced on the thin line between sexy and inappropriate. The more I weighed the options, the heavier my eyelids felt. I fought the urge to sleep as long as I could, but before I knew it, exhaustion had won the battle and I was sound asleep on the couch, forgetting all about Lena.
As I had come to expect with every sleep, along came the nightmare. The same nightmare I’d had every night for the past three years since my parent’s death. As always, I woke up in the dark sweating profusely and gasping for air as my heart threatened to explode out of my chest. I thought maybe it would have gone away as time passed or at least would not come as often, but I had not gotten so lucky. The nightmare was just as terrifying tonight as it had been the first night it occurred three years ago.
I concentrated on steadying my breathing and slowing my heart rate, which wasn’t as easy here on Sharon’s couch as it was at home. Maybe it was because I was leery of who had done what on this piece of ragged furniture, or maybe it was just being near Sharon at all that put me on edge. Generally when this happened I went to the library and read until I felt sleepy again. Tonight that certainly wasn’t an option.
Giving up on trying to go back to sleep, I turned on the cheap dollar-store lamp that sat on the particleboard end table and looked around. Deciding I would much rather drive home and lie down in my bed that felt like a cloud so that I could at least be comfortable for the remaining hours I rubbed my eyes trying to wake up. Looking at my cell phone, I saw it was 2:00 a.m. That was about right. The nightmare always occurred around the same time every night, give or take a few minutes. I didn’t bother leaving Sharon a note, assuming she wouldn’t
remember anything about calling me, and even if she did, it wasn’t like she was going to be appreciative in any form or fashion of me going out of my way to pick her up and then vigorously cleaning the rat hole of a dump she called home. I looked around, making sure I didn’t leave anything, before grabbing my keys and heading out the door. I knew if I left anything in this house I would never see it again.
Outside the air was chilly and the dew was beginning to form on the grass. I slid behind the wheel of my new, metallic blue Volkswagen Beetle and turned the engine, hearing it purr to life. I was so proud of my first car. I’d saved up and bought it right off the lot in cash. My dad would be proud. I often wished he could have watched me drive off the car lot in it on my sixteenth birthday. Not only did I love my car but, I had my MP3 player loaded with my favorite songs ready to go as soon as I started the car.
Before I pulled out of the gravel drive, I plugged my cell phone up to the car charger, noticing I had a text message. Clicking the button to read it, I noticed it was from Lena.
“Hey, what’s your 10-20?” Lena loved using police code shorthand for some strange reason.
It showed to have only been sent ten minutes ago, so I replied, hoping she hadn’t fallen asleep yet.
“Had to go rescue the town drunk again. Got to her house and well, you don’t want to know. Words just can’t describe. I should’ve taken pictures. On my way home don’t wait up.”
“How exciting. I was out and about myself. I’ll give you details over breakfast at Spirits. Meet me at 7?”
“Roger that, over and out.”
Spirits was the kind of place that made you feel at home, even if not for the staff that provided excellent eye candy.
The owner had told me once that he named it Spirits because no matter how bad your day was after being here it would always lift your spirit. The fresh smell of espresso, the scent of assorted muffins and scones coming out of the oven, and the free Wi-Fi were all selling points for me when it came to spending time at Spirits, but I had to admit the best thing about Spirits was Avan.
Avan had moved here six months ago, transferring to Oceanview High School. He worked at Spirits as a waiter before school and during the evenings after school, alongside his best friend Bradley Morton. He had transferred into Oceanview from being a home school student and was now in my Spanish and history classes, which meant that I spent a good majority of my day staring at him. I admired Avan from a distance since I had never really talked to him unless it was to give him my order.
I had thought about how amazing it would be to strike up a conversation with him, but I was too shy to ever consider it a real possibility. Being such a chicken, I resorted to the usual girl behavior—writing his name all over the pages of my notebook when I was supposed to be taking notes in class.
Avan was one of those guys who had to know he was gorgeous. It reflected in everything he did—from the way he walked to the way he had every girl in school staring and drooling as he walked down the hall. He was also one of those guys who had brains as well as looks, making him seem as though he had a smart remark to everything that anyone said, which was a bit intimidating. He had a confident attitude that could almost be mistaken as cocky, and I couldn’t help being drawn to it.
Even though most everyone else thought he walked around like he owned the universe, I sensed something different about him. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he just wasn’t like the other run-of-the-mill, obnoxious males at our school. Not to mention, he sat in the row beside me two seats up in both classes, so I was distracted by looking at him all the time.
I suppose the mystery of where he lived and that no one knew who his parents were only added to my fascination with him. He never talked about his home life at all, and no one asked. Even his best friend, Bradley, who I had a class with, never talked about going to his house or anything.
One thing I did know was that Avan Rork was the most attractive person I had ever laid eyes on. It was obvious by looking at Avan that he packed his off work time at a gym somewhere. He wasn’t bulky muscular, but the tight white t-shirt definitely showed off the definition of his exquisite physique. His arms were the kind you dream about getting wrapped up in and never letting go. Avan had a square jaw, perfect teeth, full lips that begged to be kissed, and a dimple in his right cheek when he smiled. I wasn’t sure exactly how tall he was but even when I wore heels, he was still slightly taller than I was.
He always wore Aqua di Gio cologne that screamed my name, begging me to push him against the wall and kiss him with everything I had.
I glanced down at my watch, seeing that it was five minutes to seven. Sitting back, I sighed, hoping the exhaustion would leave with it, but I had no such luck. I knew Lena would be at least five minutes late. Lena has always liked to make an entrance so it never shocks me for her to be fashionably late.
It was 7:15 a.m. when Lena finally pulled up in her new, shiny, black Corvette. Damien trades the cars in every year for new models, so Lena always had the hottest car of anyone at Oceanview. Walking in the door wearing snakeskin heels, a black mini skirt, and a low-cut top that caught every male’s attention in the room, she spotted me and waved. Lena waltzed to the bar where Avan was putting money into the register and leaned across the counter in her low-cut top, making sure to give her most come and get me if you dare vibe out. Avan picked up a pen and asked her what she wanted, ignoring her attempts at flirtation. She finally picked something, and he scribbled it on the paper without even looking at her before turning away.
“I don’t get it!” Lena said as she took the seat opposite mine. “Maybe he’s gay.”
“He is certainly not gay, Lena!” I almost choked on my coffee as I laughed.
“Well, he certainly isn’t an easy one to tempt, which is weird, because he could have definite potential! Everyone knows he could be with any girl in school if he wanted.” Lena wrinkled her nose as she lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow.
“Wish he’d pick me,” I added under my breath so that Lena didn’t hear.
“I’m telling you that boy has no idea what he is missing!”
“Maybe he’s just really focused. I mean, if he flirted with all the girls, then they would come to Spirits to see him, they would spend money while they’re here, and voila, he increases business! But then a catfight would break out, cops would be called, you know how it goes. Things could get ugly really fast!” I retorted, trying to divert her attention by slurping my coffee. I thought, I would come spend every dime I had if he flirted with me! while sitting back and taking in how perfect he looked behind the bar, even though he probably had no idea I existed.
“He is a cocky, smart-mouthed jerk anyway. What would a girl possibly want with him anyway, except on an adventurous and playful encounter? He’s a little too perfect to be a keeper. He’s the kind that I would have to chase down and capture. But that’s what duct tape and gags are for! Just stick him in the trunk and run off with him if and let him go once I got bored.”
Lena never ceased to amaze me with what came out of her mouth at a moment’s notice.
“So I have a proposition,” she continued with a snaky grin on her face. “I have this friend, and he doesn’t have a girlfriend, and since you don’t have a boyfriend I was thinking maybe—”
“Lena, are you seriously trying to hook me up with a blind date?”
“Let’s not look at it using ugly terminology like that.”
“If I don’t know him, it’s a blind date!” I couldn’t stop the involuntary rolling of my eyes after my response.
“Okay, but you kinda know him.”
“Have I met him?”
“Well no, but I’ve talked about him so you know of him.” Lena had that tone in her voice that was tinted with a pretty please.
“Who is he?”
I could tell she knew I would give in, so she was excited to bait the line.
“Okay, remember last summer when I went with Daddy to that movie shoot for a month?”
“Okay, I’ll bite, keep talking.”
“Well, remember me telling you about the guy that was super cute that was hired to help set up lighting?”
“Vaguely, but I’ve slept since then, and considering that you tell me about at least three different guys every week, it’s hard for me to remember specifics.” I really didn’t like where this was going, but I got the impression Lena didn’t really give a rat’s hind end.
“So okay, he is moving here next week. He graduated last year, just turned eighteen, is incredibly hot, has a great personality, and I really think you would look cute together.”
“Great.” I dragged the word out so that she could see I was not enthusiastic.
“All right, so I’ll take that as a yes. Here’s the deal. He’s going to be in town as of this weekend, so I’ll have him pick you up at eight on Saturday.”
“What? You just said he wouldn’t be here until next week!”
“No, I said he was moving here next week, which means the moving van with all his things will be here Monday. He is coming in this weekend so he can be ready when the moving truck gets here. So be ready by eight, no excuses!” With that, Lena went to the restroom, only returning to change the subject.
Even though she had started on another topic, my mind could not get over the whole idea of hers. That is when it occurred to me that Lena already had this entire thing planned. I didn’t have a say in this at all. I started to panic when the thought hit me that I had no idea what this guy looked like, what his interests were, or even where we were going. Lena had changed the subject, ranting on and on about her date last night, but I didn’t hear a single word she said as I sat in terror, dreading this blind date with mystery guy. Surely he had to be okay as far as passing a background check anyway. They don’t let people with a dirty rap sheet work around celebrity movie sets, right? I tried to ease my mind by telling myself that at least Damien probably knew who this guy was, but I still had overwhelming anxiety.
Enigma Page 2