“Sure you are,” Dawn snapped.
Seeing that he wasn’t going to win this battle, Eddie walked out.
“When did Eddie turn into such a jerk?”
“He didn’t,” I said, surprised by the sudden need to defend Eddie. “His new friends are jerks.”
“Seriously?”
I shook my head in no mood to engage in a pointless argument with Dawn. “Don’t start with me.”
Dawn stood up with the box of candles in hand. With a loud thud, the candles spilled and rolled all over the ground.
“He’s here!” Dawn shrieked.
“Who’s here?” I instantly stood up and turned toward the front door where, right outside The Burning Witch, Dylan and—Milo—slid off their motorcycles.
My heart hammered in my chest, I thought I was going to have a heart attack. My first instinct was to run, but where to? The backdoor.
“I’m out of here!” Dawn clutched my arm before I could take off and dragged me with her.
“No. Come with me please?” Dawn said petrified. “I need you.”
Even though I didn’t want to be there, I felt guilty for ditching Dawn. Throughout our friendship, she’d been there for me more times than I can count. When I found out that Eddie was cheating on me, she was at my doorstep with a tub full of ice-cream, popcorn, and tissues ready to pull an all-nighter. So, I couldn’t bring myself to abandon her now.
I followed Dawn through the front door of the apothecary and watched her run into Dylan’s arms. I cast a nervous glance toward Milo, but my eyes flicked down his body. He wore his hair in a ponytail, the dark waves cascading down the back of his neck, black torn jeans, and a gray Guns N’ Roses t-shirt. He was casually leaning against his Triumph motorcycle, arms crossed, and looking hotter than ever.
My cheeks flamed when Milo realized I was checking him out. The corners of his lips rose as he examined me from head-to-toe, eyeing me carefully in a semi-fascinated manner. I hugged my body feeling self-conscious.
“You clean up nicely,” he said.
“Excuse me?” I asked narrowing my eyes.
Milo laughed softly. “I meant to say, you look—” he scanned my body again, this time clinging to every curve. “Very nice.”
I shifted uncomfortably under my cardigan, anger simmering through my veins. He was teasing me.
“You remember me?” he asked.
“Unfortunately.”
He chuckled. “I like your sense of humor.”
I didn’t say anything for a moment. But what I said next shot out of me so quickly, it made me sound jealous. “How does your girlfriend feel about you flirting with other girls?”
He snickered. “First of all, if you wanted to know if I had a girlfriend, all you had to do was ask. Second”—he paused, his face turned serious, dark eyes piercing into mine— “I was only flirting with you.”
Whoa.
A flutter of excitement stirred in my stomach, but as much as I wanted to feel flattered, I knew he was screwing with me. I’m sure that’s what he told every single girl he met, a ploy to charm them out of their panties. Despite anger rising in my body, it didn’t stop my cheeks from heating. I’d never met a guy who made me feel so damn nervous. His eyes wouldn’t leave mine, and for once in my life, I didn’t know what to say.
Breaking eye-contact with Milo, I glanced around Main Street suddenly aware of the locals staring at us with stern disapproval as they passed by. Even though Milo and Dylan didn’t have their wings out, they stood out. No one in Dixon dressed like punks and metal-heads or drove motorcycles. Big body trucks, square-toed boots, and monogrammed t-shirts were the norm here.
“How about you show me around your little town?” he asked, his voice smooth like butter.
I scoffed. “What makes you think I’d go anywhere with you?”
“Because I’m charming.” He stepped away from his motorcycle and took a step closer to me. “And girls like you can’t resist me.”
“Girls like me?” I snapped confused. All I wanted to do at that moment was slap that stupid grin off his face.
“Curious,” Milo said in a matter-of-fact tone.
“I’m not curious—” I began, but Milo cut me off as he came around me. I swallowed hard commanding my body to stand still.
“Yeah, you are. Even though it scares you to be near me because of what I am,” Milo closed in on me leaving no distance between us. He was so close I could smell the peppermint in his mouth. “You’re still curious about all the rumors you hear.”
“I want nothing to do with your kind,” I said disgusted.
“Do I make you nervous?”
“No.” I lied.
“Then why are you blushing?” He whispered into my ear sending shivers all over causing my body to tense. I gazed over at Dylan and Dawn who were still locked in a passionate embrace lost in their own little bubble.
I stepped away from Milo. Once I was out of his reach, I stopped, looked back and eyed him sharply. His smile spread into a wide triumphant grin; he knew he affected me. Milo knew he got under my skin and I hated it.
CHAPTER
8
Monday after school, I was relieved to find the driveway at my house empty as I rolled in my black 1997 Mustang with brand new tires. The ‘Stang was the proud result of sacrificed holidays and weekends at the Dixon Corner Mart. It was my one-way ticket out of Dixon. We had a date with destiny en route to Los Angeles cruising through Route 66 after graduation. I couldn’t wait.
I stepped through the front door and was hit by a nasty smell of dirty socks and dog crap. Scrunching my nose, I walked into every room searching for the scent and found Isaac glued to the television eating cold leftover pizza and surrounded by dirty toilet paper.
“What did you do to the living room you little brat?” I demanded.
“It wasn’t me. It was already like this.”
“Why haven’t you cleaned it?”
Isaac shrugged without glancing away from the screen.
I walked over to him and realized he was watching FOX News on the flat screen, with a news headline that read ANGEL SAVES GIRL FROM FALLING.
“We have amazing video live from New York as an angel saves a young girl who was dangling twenty-feet up in the air from a balcony,” the reporter said.
As I got closer, I caught a glimpse of an angel flying up to save the little girl. The crowd cheered when the angel landed safely on the ground, and the little girl ran into the arms of her frightened parents. Anytime the angel smiled during his interview, I scowled. It wasn’t a genuine smile; it was a smile that reminded me of a crooked salesman. I wasn’t quite sure, but something about the angels didn’t feel right. Every save and miracle they performed felt staged. With one click I turned off the television. Isaac let out a loud groan.
“If mother finds out you’re watching this, she’s going to kill us, then feed our body parts to Killer,” I told Isaac.
Killer, our black teacup Chihuahua, stuck his tiny head out from underneath the blankets at the sound of his name.
“But they’re so awesome!” Isaac said. “I want to be an angel when I grow up.”
I frowned at the thought. “You can’t grow up to be an angel, dummy. It doesn’t work like that.”
Isaac thought about it for a moment then said, “Maybe I can dress up as one for Halloween!”
I shook my head annoyed. The angels were influencing my little brother, and I didn’t like it, I didn’t like it at all. “Like hell, you will. Where’s the man our mother married?” I asked.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I didn’t see him when I got home.”
My nostrils flared. It bothered me that Paul couldn’t care less about his son. How could he leave him home alone? He was only seven. It didn’t surprise me though. This wasn’t the first time Paul left Isaac alone to fend for himself. A couple of weeks ago while my mother and I were both working, the police found Isaac playing outside close to midnight by himself. Luckily, my mother
knew the cop and didn’t report it.
“Come on, we have to try out my new camera.”
I made Isaac wear an old luchador mask I got at a swap meet in Atlanta a few years ago and completed the outfit with shorts and cowboy boots. He looked ridiculous, but it was the only clean clothing we could find in his room.
We hung out inside an overgrown brush where at some point during my childhood, an actual yard with a small garden at the center clear of debris once stood. I remembered having one-on-one soccer matches with Priscilla back here. Today, it looked like an unkempt jungle.
“Walk slowly toward me,” I directed Isaac. “Remember your back story: you’re El Rey del Desmadre; The King of Destruction, a local hero who is seeking vengeance for your wife’s death. You’re in a forest following your enemies, the Fu Manchu Ninjas, after they kidnapped your daughter. So act warily.”
Isaac stopped, scratched his head then asked, “What does warily mean?”
“Cautious,” I informed him briefly taking my eye off the viewfinder. “I’m still rolling so keep walking.”
Isaac followed my lead and walked carefully through the brush.
“You’re about to stumble onto the Fu Manchu ninjas secret hiding place when all of a sudden…ninja stars fall from the trees!” I grabbed the paper ninja stars from my back pocket I made during class and threw them at Isaac. Except, he didn’t act surprised or shocked.
“This is stupid,” Isaac whined.
“Cut!” I pressed the stop button on the camera and covered the lens. “Isaac, you promised you would help me if I played with you.”
“Yeah, but this is no fun. This mask is itchy,” he complained slipping off the mask.
“Fine, let’s take five. We can go wash my car,” I said pulling Isaac by the arm. “Then go cruising afterward. I’ll even let you buy me ice-cream with the money you coaxed out of me the other day.”
“Sounds boring,” Isaac snorted.
We spent the evening washing my precious baby soaking in the sunshine while listening to an 80’s & 90’s Hits radio station. I gave my little slave wheel duty as I rinsed away when Michael Jackson’s ‘Bad’ came on. Isaac popped his head up and started dancing.
“Turn it up,” he said bobbing his little head.
Completely stunned, I replied, “What do you know about Michael Jackson?”
“I know how to do this,” he said as he slid backward mimicking the infamous moonwalk.
“Where’d you learn how to do that?”
“YouTube.”
I turned up the music on the stereo and joined Isaac. I tried my best to follow Isaac’s dance moves but failed miserably. I watched Isaac channel the King of Pop, so naturally, it looked like he’d been practicing. We kept dancing as we wiped the car down, using the water hose as a microphone to mouth the lyrics until…the music cut off. I glanced up and found a disheveled Paul on the other side of my car, his eyes flickering with anger.
“I thought you said he wasn’t home,” I whispered to Isaac.
“His truck wasn’t here.”
“Turn that crap off!” He spat out. “I’m tryin’ to sleep.”
I grimaced. I should’ve kept my mouth shut, but I was so mad I replied, “Quiet hours are between ten and six.” I turned the music back on.
In a flip of a second, Paul reached into my car and punched the radio leaving a dent in the middle. It felt like Paul hit me deep in the gut. My voice shot up many decibels when I screamed, “Are you going to pay for that? Oh no, wait, you can’t because you’re a bum!”
Paul came barreling towards me like he was going to hit me. I stood in place, clenching my hands, ready for whatever happened next even though I was terrified he might hurt me. I pushed Isaac behind me using my body as a shield. When Paul reached me, I noticed the vast emptiness in his eyes, like his soul wasn’t there. He was probably still drunk from the previous night.
“Look you little pot-head, you don’t like my rules, then get the hell out of my house.” The words spilled out of him like melting lava. If I weren’t so damn scared, I would have laughed in his face for calling me a pothead because I’d never touched the drug in my life.
“Gladly,” I countered in defiance. “I’d rather live on the streets than here with you.”
“Go ahead. You’ll just turn into a little whore like your sister.”
My face turned serious. How dare he talk about Priscilla? It’s no wonder she hated Paul with all her guts. Now I understood why she ran away. Not wanting to give him a reason to call me other names, I took Isaac’s hand and ushered him into the car.
“Let’s go, Isaac.”
☩
We sat in silence while we ate our ice-cream. The parking lot at the Swirling Vanilla was relatively empty and, even though I had a double scoop of Cookies n’ Cream ice-cream, it didn’t soothe the amount of pain I felt after my altercation with Paul. I was angry at myself for getting so worked up. In the past, I’d been able to shrug off all the stupid shit that came out Paul’s mouth, but not this time. Part of me wanted to leave right now and never look back, but I couldn’t go and leave Isaac alone with that monster.
“Are you okay, sis?” Isaac put his hand on my shoulder.
I turned to him and gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine.”
Exiting the car, I wiped a tear that escaped my eye. I didn’t want Isaac to see me this way. I walked to the back of the car, took out my cell phone and dialed my dad’s number. After a few rings, I heard his voice.
“Hey,” he said breathless and excited to hear my voice. “How’s my baby girl doing?”
I cringed. I hated when he called me ‘baby.’ It made me feel like a little kid. Even after my constant reminder to quit calling me that, he did it anyway. I wanted to tell him about the abuse I endured daily, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. In the background, I could hear the dings of machines, and hustle of a crowded bar.
“Where are you?”
“Uh…” he hesitated. “I’m at the casino.”
Tears filled my eyes threatening to pour out at any moment. I tried my best to hold in the soul-crushing disappointment I felt as I suffocated with each breath. He was gambling again. Throwing away his money hoping to become insta-rich to make our problems go away. It was the reason my mother left my dad ten years ago. While he was out gambling away the rent money, she worked two jobs to support us. But despite his addiction, my dad always took care of us when my mother wasn’t around. He made sure Priscilla, and I ate our breakfast before walking us to school, he read to us every single night before leaving for the casinos, and he always made sure we felt loved. But love isn't going to pay the bills, or at least, that’s what my mother always said.
“Is everything okay? Do you need money?”
“No—”
“I have a few hundred saved in the bank. I could wire them tomorrow.”
I don’t need money, dad. I need you. Turning away from the phone, I let out an angry sob. I hated that my dad wasn’t there when I really needed him. I hated he chose to stay in Los Angeles instead of coming after us and fighting to keep his family together. I hated he never bothered to come looking for Priscilla after she ran away. I hated that I felt so alone. Wiping the tears, I took a deep breath and calmly placed the phone over my ear.
“I don’t need anything, dad. I only wanted to talk to you.”
“Daniel, get back in the game man!” I heard someone holler. “Listen, I have to go. But I’ll call you later, okay?”
I swallowed hard. “Okay.”
Filled with rage, I threw my phone against the concrete smashing the old outdated thing into pieces.
Shit!
I let out a loud aggravated groan. Now I had to replace the stupid phone which was going to set me back about fifty dollars. It was just my luck—and my lack of rational thinking—that always made me do stupid things. When one thing broke, something else was sure to follow. Maybe I should have taken my dad’s offer to send money. Sighing, I picked up
the pieces before getting back into the car.
It was dark out when we got back from the ice-cream parlor, the old Victorian house looked haunted and eerie sitting silently in the darkness. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed a dark figure standing near the wrap around porch. I squinted my eyes trying to make out any details, but it was too dark to see anything but the silhouette of what looked like a man. At first, I thought it was Paul screwing with us, but my gut told me otherwise.
The figure was lanky and much taller than Paul.
“Who’s that?” Isaac asked.
I answered by locking the doors. “I don’t know.”
I took out my cell phone to call my mother but groaned when I saw the cracked screen.
Damn it!
Of course, I had to break my phone when I needed it most. When I glanced up, the figure was gone.
“Where’d it go?” I looked around searching for the figure.
“To the back of the house,” Isaac said ducking into the seat. “I’m scared.”
Isaac’s lip trembled. I faked a smile and patted him on the shoulder.
“It’ll be okay,” I told him unsure if I believed it myself. In spite of my fear, I decided to do something very stupid. I took the keys out of the ignition and stuck one key between each finger forming a claw. I cursed under my breath; this is the very thing that got you killed in horror movies. I thought about going to the hospital to get my mother, but I didn’t want her mad at me if it turned out to be a false alarm.
“Lock the car,” I instructed Isaac. “Whatever you do, don’t get out.”
“No! Don’t leave me here!”
“I’ll be right back.” I promised.
“But what if it’s a killer?” Isaac asked.
I pushed the thought aside. Our neighborhood was relatively safe, hardly anything bad happened here. And I liked it that way. The last time someone died here was a man who lived a few blocks down who accidentally shot himself while cleaning his guns.
“It’s probably your dad playing a cruel joke on us,” I told him, trying to sound calm.
THE TRAGIC + DIVINE, Book 1 Page 7