After about an hour of non-stop dancing—and pushing off any guy who tried to slither behind me to shake his junk—I broke away from my friends to grab a drink. A female bartender wearing a black leather corset exposing a cheetah print wonder-bra greeted me.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a Screaming Orgasm,” Dawn said with a mischievous tone slipping next to me.
“Is that an invitation?”
We both snapped our heads around to the sandy blonde angel from the VIP lounge, who was standing next to Dawn. She took one look at his sapphire blue eyes and was immediately smitten. But there was something about him that was off. Maybe it was his unpredictable wild eyes that made me uncomfortable or the way he tilted his head and eyed Dawn from head-to-toe like a slime ball which grossed me out. Instinct told me this guy was bad news.
“Maybe,” Dawn replied as she flirtatiously flipped her hair back exposing her neck.
“Dylan,” he said into her ear.
“I’m Dawn. Our names have the same first letters, D.D.” She giggled with a spark of obsession in her eyes.
“It must be fate,” Dylan replied.
Rolling my eyes, I turned away from the horrific sight. I could already imagine Dawn scribbling ‘D & D’ inside pink hearts all over her notebook.
“Want to dance?” Dylan asked.
“Sure.” Dawn took Dylan by the hand and walked away abandoning me at the bar. I flicked my eyes away in disapproval. I was on the verge of puking.
Waving one hand at the bartender, I was determined to take a shot of something—anything—to erase the repulsive scene I’d just witnessed, but the logical part of my brain insisted on water. I didn’t want to risk falling flat on my ass when sneaking back into my room.
“Water. What are you a nun?” I heard a husky male voice say.
I blew out an irritated sigh and didn’t bother to turn around. Watching my best friend take off with an angel was enough excitement for one night, I didn’t want to deal with an inebriated asshole. My attention was fixated on the colorful display of liquor bottles behind the bar. And there in the mirror, I caught a glimpse of his reflection. My pulse quickened. My cheeks flushed as his dark eyes focused on mine waiting for a response, but I couldn’t find my voice. What was wrong with me? Get it together Alexis.
But, how could I? He was way hotter up-close.
Finally, I glanced over my shoulder offering an awkward smile to the angel with the jet-black hair. The halos around his eyes had an ethereal glow to them that burned unnaturally bright in the darkness, I could hardly see the pupil. They were the richest amber I’d ever seen—like blazing flames—so beautiful I could get lost in them.
“I’ve never seen you here before,” he finally said pulling me back to reality.
“It’s—it’s—” I stammered, immediately cursing myself for acting like such an idiot. “My friends dragged me out here for a pre-birthday celebration.”
“My name is Milo,” he said with a devilish grin, the kind that could make any girl quiver in her socks. “Milo James.”
I examined Milo’s facial expression a little longer than I expected. He had an annoying sense of confidence that told me he could get any girl he wanted even if he barely tried. And ironically, he had me melting in the cup of his stupidly perfect hand.
“Alexis,” I replied. “Alexis Minerva.”
He motioned for the bartender, who poured a red glow-in- the-dark liquid in a shot glass. Milo pushed the drink toward me. “Happy early birthday, Alexis.”
“What is it?” I asked hesitantly.
“It’s called the Zombie. It’s fruity, you’ll like it.”
I let out a nervous giggle.
“Sounds like something I’ll black out on,” I said pushing the shot back. “I’d like to keep my dignity intact tonight.” I bit my tongue as soon as I said it. My thoughts always had a way of slipping through the cracks of my brain which got me into trouble. To my surprise, Milo didn’t look offended. He was amused.
With one gulp he drank the shot before slamming it on the bar then said, “I like my women aware of the pleasure I’m inflicting.”
He slid out of the bar stool, leaned in closer to me and winked as he gently tapped my chin before leaving. “See you around.”
I sat planted too stunned to move. Who the hell does this guy think he is, Casanova? Cocky S.O.B. And to add more fuel to the fire, he walked into the arms of a gorgeous red head who greeted him with a kiss that lasted a little longer than I’d cared to watch. My mother had nothing to worry about, I couldn’t attract an angel even if I tried. My charming personality would send them screaming out the door.
Back on the dance floor, I found Julian surrounded by people. He grabbed my hand and twirled me around until I was so dizzy, I had to hold on to him to keep my balance. Then out of the corner of my eye, I saw my arch-nemesis Savannah Dixon being led to the second floor of the club by an angel. His brown hair was tied up in a man bun, he wore black slacks and a black dress shirt that was tucked in. He looked older—about thirty—and more refined than the other angels at the club. I watched as they walked through the roped off entrance that was guarded by a bouncer.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I asked Julian
surprised.
“Oh yeah. What the hell is Savannah doing here?”
What was Savannah Dixon, the daughter of the most prominent family of our little town doing inside an angel nightclub? Savannah’s mom was the mayor of Dixon and anti- angel advocate who often demonized the angels during her speeches. Witnessing her sweet girl mingling with the ‘devil’s spawn’ was kind of a big deal. So, I wasn’t about to sit back and watch. I was determined to catch her in the act for leverage. She was the devil dressed in a hot pink miniskirt.
I dragged Julian to the foot of the staircase.
“You’re following her, aren’t you?” Julian said stopping midway. “Oh girl, my gay-senses are tingling, and they’re telling me you’re gonna get us in a boat-load of trouble.”
“Grow some balls, Julian,” I snapped.
“What do you think I am? A Chia Pet?”
“No, I think you’re my super-tough gay friend who wants dirt on Savannah just as much as I do.” I pleaded. “Remember when she called you a Fruity Lucy all through middle school after you came out of the closet?”
“Yeah. So?”
“Payback is a bitch,” I smiled.
He thought about it for a moment. Savannah was a big bully who got away with everything. No one, not even Julian was safe from her insults. Sophomore year Savannah spread a nasty rumor that I gave my now ex-boyfriend, Eddie, an S.T.D., which wasn’t true given the fact that I'd never seen a guy naked—ever. Before I knew it, the guys from the football team, along with the cheerleaders, were writing obscene names on my locker and bathroom walls. I used to get phone calls in the middle of the night asking for the ‘red light special.’ When the rumor reached the ears of my mother, she threatened to take me to the doctor to make sure I was still a virgin.
Thankfully, Eddie came to my rescue and shut the rumor mill down, which didn't sit too well with Savannah who happened to be Eddie’s crazy ex-girlfriend. My intention was merely to get dirt on Savannah, so she’ll leave me alone at least until graduation.
Julian walked past me and headed up the metal stairs and told the bouncer there was a fight in the bathroom. The bouncer rushed downstairs as Julian ducked under the red rope. I turned over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, everyone at the club was too drunk to notice us. Once we were in the clear, we rounded the corner toward a small room located at the far end of the church where the door was slightly open.
With my fingers, I motioned for Julian to stay on the lookout. I poked my head inside; Savannah was lounging on a lavish white loveseat with a cigar in her mouth. The angel had one arm around her, his face buried in her neck, and the other was heading down her miniskirt. I grimaced right when Savannah locked eyes with mine, her expr
ession shocked. Then the door suddenly closed shut.
“Uh-oh.” I felt Julian tug my shirt. “We gotta go.”
A group of bouncers dashed toward us, we tried to make a run for it but got caught. We were escorted out of the nightclub in true delinquent fashion.
CHAPTER
2
I sprinted across my neighbor’s backyard adrenaline pumping through my veins. In the distance, I heard the neighbor’s annoying dog barking at the sound of leaves crunching underneath my combat boots. The deep blue sky was fading to a light shade of lilac as dawn slowly broke over the mountains. I was running out of time. I had to get back into my room before my mother got home from work. But just as I was about to step into the safety of my yard, I heard the thunder-like flapping of wings.
I covered my head with my black hoodie and hid behind a metal shed steadying my breath to keep my heart from jumping out of my chest. As I looked up at the sky, I caught a glimpse of three angels flying west on their way to Atlanta. As much as I hated living in Dixon, the only good thing about this place was angels didn’t live here.
I scurried out of the shadows making a dash for my wooden balcony located at the back of our run-down 1900s Victorian house. It was one of those houses people would say had a lot of ‘character,’ meaning it was a piece of crap unless you had money for repairs—money my family didn’t have. Since my mother was the only breadwinner in our home, keeping up with the bills was tough enough. It didn’t help her husband was a deadbeat drunk who slept most of the day.
I came to a sudden stop. Goosebumps rose all over my body causing me to shiver. The type you get when someone is watching you. I glanced around my sleepy neighborhood, all of them unaware of the happenings of the night, but nothing seemed odd. It was quiet. The morning breeze gently swayed the trees in the darkness, but that was the only sound I heard.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was out there…watching me.
The lights of my mother’s SUV flashed in the garage.
Ah shit!
I rapidly climbed the balcony trying my best not to fall. If my mother caught me, she’d ground me for life.
I stumbled into my room tossing my shoes aside then jumped into the comfort of my bed. I covered myself with an old worn-out blanket—a gift from my dad before moving to Dixon—and pretended to sleep. Knots formed inside my stomach as footsteps approached. Despite the chilly weather, I was sweating underneath the blanket.
I froze at the creaking sound of the door opening behind me. I’m sure my mother was scanning the room looking for anything unusual: a boy hiding in my closet, or maybe a fake doll underneath the covers. She found nothing but borrowed library books scattered on the floor and mismatched weathered furniture in what was once an attic. After a few seconds she left, and I was finally able to breathe.
This was becoming routine. Every morning when my mother got home from work, she checked my room to make sure I was inside even though I’d never given her a reason, unlike my sister Priscilla.
When Priscilla was sixteen, she got knocked up by an angel. Our house turned into a prison, Rapunzel-style. Priscilla wasn’t allowed to eat, breathe or sleep without permission. My mother tried forcing my sister into getting an abortion, but in the end, she miscarried easing my mother’s worries.
Damn Priscilla. I hated her for ruining my life—but even more—I hated her inability to keep her panties on. If she hadn’t made such a stupid mindless mistake, I’d have more freedom. I was being punished for her actions.
It wasn’t fair.
I sighed profoundly allowing the heaviness of my eyelids to take me under. It wasn’t long before I drifted off to sleep.
☩
A loud pounding on the door woke me from a deep slumber.
“Time to get up Alexis! You’re going to be late for school.” My little brother, Isaac, was on his daily I’m-going-to-annoy-the-living-hell-out-of-my-sister routine.
My eyes weren’t cooperating with me, they somehow seemed to weigh ten pounds heavier during the few hours I managed to sleep. I tapped the screen on my cell phone to check the time; it was 7 a.m. I let out an exasperated groan. Why did I let Dawn convince me to go out on a school night? I should’ve stayed home instead of going clubbing.
Milo’s dark, hypnotic eyes flashed through my memories. I couldn’t help but feel a rush of butterflies stir inside my stomach. He was so hot compared to all the boys who went to my school. But he was an angel. Off-limits, and completely forbidden. Good thing he lived in Atlanta. The odds of me running into him were slim to none.
Brushing the thought aside, I dragged myself out of bed stumbling over a pile of dirty clothes on the floor. When I opened the door, the sharp, warm scent of fresh coffee filled my nose.
“Happy birthday.” Isaac held up an old beer stein and was grinning from ear-to-ear. Aside from remembering my birthday, something was off about the kind gesture. I took the cup from his hand and ruffled through his curly espresso brown locks.
“How much?” I said taking a sip.
“Fifty.”
I spit out the liquid, coughing as I told him, “Are you crazy? I don’t have that much.”
“I guess mom will find out about last night.” He started to walk away until I pulled him back by the collar to face me.
“Why do you want fifty dollars, you little brat?”
“There’s a new video game I want.”
“You’re seven, go outside and play like a normal kid. Quit wasting your time on video games.” I tapped the top of his head. “They rot your brain.”
“Mom!” He yelled, but I quickly covered his mouth.
“Okay, fine.” I dug through my jean pockets handing him the contents. “Here’s ten bucks and some change. Don’t spend it all in one place.”
“I said fifty.” Isaac glared at me with his gorgeous baby blue eyes.
I bit my lip trying very hard not to break through the skin. “So, I owe you forty. Get out of my face before I tell mother who broke her favorite vase.” His expression told me we had a deal.
“Fine. But I’m charging interest.” Isaac walked away with a sense of confidence in his step. The kid knew how to get under my skin. Sometimes I wished I was an only child. I asked my mother for a puppy when I was ten. Instead, I got Isaac. Lucky me.
After stepping out of the shower, I rummaged through my drawers full of thrift store treasures settling on a grey vintage Queen t-shirt that belonged to Priscilla, torn faded blue jeans and maroon Chucks. I’d never been into fashion nor did I care what anyone thought of me. Comfort and self-expression were vital when it came to clothes. My mother hated everything I wore. She wished I was a little bit more girly. Gone were the days of ruffled polka dot pants and matching bows. Just thinking of all the pastels and paisley my mother made me wear as a kid made me want to hurl.
I entered the kitchen, surprised to find my mother sitting at the table still dressed in her blue scrubs and Crocs. I thought she’d be asleep by now, but I’m guessing she decided to clean the kitchen instead. She was flipping through the Atlanta newspaper and didn’t notice when I walked in.
All my life I've been told I looked like my mother, same olive skin, chocolate wavy hair, plump lips—and I hated that I did. Other than our looks, we had nothing else in common.
From the corner of my eye, I caught the MISSING PERSONS ad on the back of the paper. All of the smiling faces were teenage girls around my age, mostly runaways. It made me wonder why my mother never added one for Priscilla.
“Morning,” I said waiting to see if she remembered my birthday this year. She didn’t even flinch. How could she forget?
Whatever.
I hated birthdays anyway. The thought of everyone fussing over me for a day made me cringe. I wish I could skip school today and lay around in my pajamas while watching Netflix and eating pizza. It sounded more appealing than lectures and homeroom. The only good thing that came from turning a year older is knowing it will get me closer to freedom. I
n one more year I will graduate high school and kiss Dixon goodbye.
I grabbed the bottle of lemonade out of the refrigerator then stuck one hand in the freezer reaching for the ice tray.
“Morning,” she finally said. “Where’s your car?”
Your husband slit the tires in another drunken rage.
“It’s in the shop,” I lied.
“Did you look over the brochures I gave you the other day?” she asked.
I sighed, dread rolling deep in my stomach. I didn’t want to tell my mother about my plans to go back to Los Angeles and live with my dad after graduation to get as far away from her and her crazy-ass husband. But I also didn’t want her to have unrealistic hopes of ever seeing me in blue scrubs one day. So I lied, again.
“I want to be an entertainment lawyer, remember?”
“You have to be smart to be a lawyer.” Her voice was monotone, so I wasn’t sure if she was kidding or being serious. Either way, it hurt.
“I am smart,” I snapped.
“B’s and C’s will not get you into law school.”
“Or a nursing program,” I shot back.
When I placed the ice tray back in the fridge, I noticed a clear mason jar with a piece of paper inside. At first, I thought it was one of Isaac’s little pranks until I got a closer look. Paul’s picture was frozen in the middle.
What the hell?
I took the container and waived it in front of my mother. “What is this?” I raised an eyebrow, puzzled.
She rushed toward me and snatched the glass out of my hand. “Leave it alone,” she said, placing it back in the freezer.
“What exactly is that supposed to do?” I asked pointing at the jar. “Train Paul into acting like a decent human being?”
“What I do in my private time is none of your business.” There was a dark, icy edge in her voice that took me by surprise. I didn’t bother to respond. To be honest, I didn’t feel like arguing with her again.
THE TRAGIC + DIVINE, Book 1 Page 2