Sin and Swoon

by Tara Brown

  The question is, do I hate her enough to do the thing I am thinking of doing?

  A meow fills the air behind me. I glance back to see the ginger tabby. She rubs against the door frame, sliding upon the wood and purring. She’s a temptress; she isn’t like Binxy. She meows again and turns, running out the door.

  I lower the phone and follow her down the long corridor with the blinking lights, old fluorescents that could cause a seizure for an epileptic. She runs down the stairs, rubbing against the door.

  I scowl. “You’ll die out there. Wild animals or cars or other terrible things.”

  She purrs, rubbing the door persistently. So I follow, assuming she must know what she’s doing. When I open the door she bolts, pausing when she’s halfway across the grass in the commons. Something else moves out there with her.

  I walk into the dimly lit field, a little scared of the commons at night. But when I see what she’s rubbing against now, I break into a run.

  His little black-and-white face is a miracle. He followed me, like I knew he would. I drop to my knees when I get close enough, squishing into the damp grass. I put a hand out for him to smell. He tiptoes along, not even making a sound as he walks. His whiskers have fog on them, mist from the thick ocean air that’s making the lights glow.

  He creeps closer—close enough for me to pick up when his cold nose touches my fingertip. I nestle my face into his thick, damp fur and take a lungful of the smell that is entirely him. He smells like the woods and the dirt and love.

  He immediately purrs, a reward I have rarely received. When I look down, the orange cat is gone. She’s run off into the woods, or just vanished like a messenger or a guardian angel might.

  I wrap him in my arms, noting he’s thinner. The week’s journey to get to this place has been a hungry one. I don’t know how he found me, but gripping him makes everything better.

  As I climb the stairs to my dorm, one of the girls I met the day before—Angie, an exchange student from the UK, Scotland specifically—smiles wide. “By the gods, that’s a cute cat. Look at that fur!” She reaches for him without asking my permission. Or Binx’s, rather. But he doesn’t care. He leans in, letting her love him up. His purring stops, because that’s just the sort of cat he is, but his eyes close because he knows he’s safe.

  “What’s the wee highness’s name?” Her thick accent makes me smile.

  “Binx.”

  “Like Thackery Binx?”

  I nod, completely baffled at her knowing Hocus Pocus well enough to know the cat from the movie. “Yes. Exactly.”

  “One of the very best American movies ya Yanks have ever been able to pull off. Yer theater is lacking, largely, but that movie is a classic.” Her grin widens; she seems like an old soul. Too old for college, but I can tell that is just the look in her eyes. She knows too much of the world to be a wide-eyed college girl. Somehow she is older and wiser than the rest of us and yet fits in with me; maybe it’s just me, though. “The way yer people go about hiring an actress for her tits and ass is offensive to the real artists of the world. Ya will note that we in Europe hire an actor for skills. Yeah, they all have raggedy teeth and crazy hair, but at least they can get around a stage.”

  I snort, and it shocks me. I don’t remember the last time I snorted.

  Her gray-blue eyes and dark-red hair are an amazing combination. I haven’t ever noticed a redhead with blue eyes like hers, except Mrs. Ridge at the post office, but her red hair is the bottle variety.

  “Ya taking him back to your room then? He’ll live here with ya?”

  I nod carefully, watching her gaze. She could be a professor, her eyes are so old compared to the other kids in the hall I’ve passed by.

  “Interesting. Well, if ya need someone to watch him let me know.” She winks and turns, leaving with a wave. I clutch to my cat and scurry to my room. I lay him on my bed and stroke his back. He accepts a minute of love before turning and starting his exploration of our new space.

  I catch a glimpse of my face in the mirror. The image flickers, maybe from the light or maybe my vision. The reflection is there until I blink, seeing the face of a girl with dark hair and different-colored eyes. It flashes for only a second. She’s screaming and scared and then gone.

  I open my eyes, suddenly shaking and cold.

  The door opens to the hallway and Michelle walks in, instantly stopping when she sees the cat. “Seriously? Another one?”

  I am still cold from seeing the weird image that doesn’t feel like a memory, but I can’t explain where else it might have come from.

  “I said you can’t have him in here. It’s my room too, Ash. This is shit.”

  I open my mouth, but Angie is instantly behind her. “If ya want, we can change roommates. Mine hates the bagpipes, and she can’t stand the way I sing The Stones. If you can live with that, then we can share and they can share.”

  She’s like a guardian angel popping up, like the other cat bringing me to Binx. It’s all so perfect; I have to wonder if I’m dreaming. I nod. “I don’t care about singing.”

  “Wow, a match made in heaven.” Michelle rolls her eyes and storms off, shoving Angie with her shoulder as she leaves.

  “She’s pleasant. Reminds me of a slag from my hometown. Another gem of a lass.” Angie’s eyes go to the photo on my bedside table. “Mother of God in heaven, who is that sexy beast?”

  I scowl, looking back to make sure we both are seeing the photo of my brother Simon. I wrinkle my nose. “That’s my twin brother.”

  “Does he go here too?”

  I shake my head. “Portland State.”

  “That’s not too far. What—an hour and a half drive?” She folds her arms across her ample chest. “He should come visit.”

  “It’s three hours.” The chill crosses over my spine again as I shake my head. “And he’s pretty busy.”

  She shrugs, clearly not discouraged. I want her to be. I want to discourage her and convince her he isn’t the right type of guy for her. He’s a player, I think.

  He’s always been the one who gets in trouble and lies, dates more than one woman at a time, and uses his status as a sports star to get what he wants.

  “Well, let’s pack you up so Leona can move in here and you can move in with me.”

  I scowl again. “Did you ask your roommate already?”

  She nods. “I saw yer roommate bitching about ya down the other hallway. She called ya a crazy cat lady and said she was telling if ya brought the dirty cat to the room.” Her eyes turn to Binx in his new nest made of my pillow. “I knew he would be out before ya could even enjoy a good snuggle. Did yer parents bring him for ya?”

  I shake my head. “He found his own way here from home.”

  “He’s a special cat.” She walks to him, picking him up with my pillow. “How far is it from home?”

  “Half an hour drive.”

  She gives me a look. “Surely he didn’t walk that far to come find ya.”

  I shrug. “He must have. He’s here.”

  “He must have been in the car, hiding in yer bags.” She winks, but I don’t think it’s funny that he’s here. I’m still panicking that he was out there alone and scared and looking for me. I can’t think about the things that might have happened.

  She chuckles and starts packing my side of the room in the totes I had used to bring all this stuff in here.

  It takes us all evening to trade rooms. Angie natters and sings and never really stops talking or moving. I feel like I should join in on the conversation, but I don’t. I don’t know why. I guess I don’t feel much like talking.

  She places the picture of my brother on her side of the room and stares at him longingly. “That is a mighty fine bloke. I think for saving your adorable cat, I should be rewarded with meeting him.”

  I roll my eyes and grab my phone. I send him a text.

  Come visit me.

  He texts back right away.

  Can’t. Have practice all week. How’s Saturday?r />
  Good. Come then.

  Done, but if this is some bullshit about your cat, I’m not helping look for him. I told Mom to let you take him.

  I add a tongue-sticking-out emoji.

  He’s here already. Found his own way to me.

  See you Saturday, crazy cat lady. <3

  It makes me smile to be called that. I already know it’s true. I’ll be a crazy cat lady to the death. It will likely be the reason I don’t marry, but I don’t care. “He says he’ll come Saturday.”

  She grins wide. “Excellent. Now I need to lose five pounds before then so I can steal that gray dress of yours. The Victoria’s Secret one.” She jumps up and walks to my open closet, holding the slinky dress against her body. Her breasts are much larger than mine so the dress looks like it might not cover everything. But then again, that might be her desire. If I had her boobs I would rock them, and the gray dress is a prime example of how I would go about it.

  The thought makes me uncomfortable, but I push it away. The weird, self-conscious quiet girl I have become here is driving me insane. I had more confidence than this in my pinky before I left home, and it’s not like I grew up in the sticks. “Be right back. Can you make sure he’s okay?” I point at the cat.

  She rolls her eyes. “He’s fine. He’ll adjust to the new room.” She waves at me, so I leave and saunter down to the bathroom. I wash my face and look into the mirror at my dark eyes, thick lashes, and perfect chestnut hair. I cock a delicately manicured eyebrow and scowl. Have I always looked like Barbie’s best friend?

  I shake my head and sigh, forcing a silent vow to be more like myself and stop worrying about everything. I dry my face on my shirt and stroll back to the room, earning a weird glance from a girl I pass who notices the water stain on my shirt.

  When I get in the room Angie is twirling with my clothes. “Can I borrow this purple scarf with the gray dress?” She wraps it around her throat, making my skin crawl. I nod, ignoring the terrible feeling inside of me, and honor my vow of being the cool chick I once was, a whole week ago.

  “I have heels that match the purple scarf.” The words are choked out. I climb on my bed and lie back, realizing it’s more comfortable than the mattress I had in the other room with the ever-crabby Michelle. I would feel sorry for Leona but she doesn’t sound much better than Michelle.

  Who doesn’t like bagpipes?

  “Want to go get pissed?” It takes a second to realize she means get drunk.

  I grin. “I do.” It is just the thing I need to relax and get used to the new life here on campus. Simon and I used to have epic parties when our parents would take their adult vacations.

  “There’s a bar in town that serves minors. Ya just have to be a pretty lass and the dirty old bouncer will let you in. Once you’re in, they don’t ID.”

  I grin wider, reaching into my Coach wristlet. “I have fake ID.”

  Her jaw drops. “I knew ya would be the better roomie.” She reaches into her own purse and lifts out an ID as well. “I still want to dress slutty, though.” She grabs a red dress from her closet. “Yer what—a four?” She tosses me the super-cute red strapless dress with a white lace waistband. “Ya can keep this; it doesn’t fit me anymore. I’m an eight, and there’s no going back. Every time I lose too much weight I lose my boobs. It’s not a sacrifice I’m willing to make. And no one wants to see the weight-loss rock-in-a-sock boobs. I’m too young for that shite.”

  To my surprise I snort again. “What is this, a prom dress?”

  “Prom must be sad where yer are from. That is not fancy enough, not even close. Were ya raised on a farm?” Her eyes glisten.

  I open my mouth, not seeing a farm but a nun. It’s the strangest flash, and I swear it’s a memory, but that’s not possible. I narrow my gaze.

  “Gods, how horrid it must be if ya have a mug like that one on ya when asked about home. Tell me, was it terrible?” She leans forward, her eyes widening.

  I swallow and fight the shudder ripping through me. “No. It was bliss.” The words feel like a lie. “Small town, great parents, suburb life. Very perfect. Close to the city.” There really is nothing else.

  “Dull. I sort of hoped you’d be a serial killer or something fascinating. That cat makes you more interesting than you are, by far.” She loses all her excitement with a sigh. She’s joking, but it hurts my pride just a little. She gives me a smug grin. “But I can tell, ya haven’t been out here—have ya? Partied here in Seattle?”

  I shake my head. “We never made it. We had plans, but the party at home was always better. My parents went to the city all the time to have their version of an escape.”

  “It’s a goddamned fashion show. Now pull that on.” She strips her T-shirt off, revealing her perfect breasts and tight body. I could actually hate her, but the dress in my hands is too pretty to focus on her stunningly curvy body in envy.

  We dress quickly, as if we are actually going to a fashion show. Heels too high and dresses too short. I don’t think I’ll be able to outrun anyone, but I have a feeling it won’t matter.

  I dab a final coat of gloss over my lips and take one last look. My teased-up hair is sexy with wide dark curls and a ton of shine.

  Angie has on a sexy black cocktail dress that flares at the hips, showing her long, lightly freckled legs—tanned and slightly freckled like her face. Her ruddy skin glows in a way only a redhead’s can.

  “Ready?”

  I feel way too dressed up but I nod. When we leave the dorm room, I blow a kiss at Binx as I watch Angie lock the door.

  When we get outside, we receive several looks crossing campus from the girls in sweats and tank tops. The warmth of summer is still upon us. It’s a warm autumn here, but not too hot. At the curb, Angie hails a cab, taking us into the city.

  I don’t know this city as well as I should, having grown up nearby. The Northwest University School of Nursing was my reason for moving here from Tanner, which is a suburb of the city. Simon went to Portland State University with some friends. He wanted to be away from Seattle. I don’t understand why.

  When we get to the bar, the cab parks, and I take a deep breath. The line is loaded with girls in dresses and men in suits. Everyone is overdressed the way we are. I lean into the window of the cab, watching the lights in the line flicker off the smiling faces, flashing on all of their beautiful faces.

  Why can’t I get excited? Binx found me, even if it still feels like a dream. I got rid of my evil roommate and landed the best one at school, hands down. My day has been fabulous.

  I push away the worrywart within, hating the way school is making me crazy and the exams haven’t even started yet. I give Angie a look as she climbs out, grinning like she’s got a secret. She reminds me of a friend back home; I just can’t place which one.

  “You ready to get this night off to a good start?”

  I grin back. “That’s a pretty big line.”

  She winks. “I have it covered.”

  I climb out, following her to the front of the line. Every girl in line is as pretty as we are, if not more so. They are dolled up, and their dresses look more expensive than ours. I wrinkle my nose, wondering if she’s going to flash cash and get turned away. By the looks of every person lined up, they would have already tried that trick.

  But as she approaches the tall man built like he might also be a wrestler or a hit man or a small building, his wide lips lift, and he nods as he pulls the crimson rope aside for her. She nods back at me. His eyes don’t even flicker on me, but he stares at her in the strangest way. It is almost as if he doesn’t see me.

  The music starts to light up my body, flooding my head and heart with the beat. I swallow and swear even my throat moves to the sound of the loud drum and bass. It sounds like a rave as we enter, since the DJ is live, but the crowd isn’t high, not on drugs anyway. Everyone is dancing in a wave; even the people lingering and waiting for drinks at the bar move in sync with the others.

  The lights flash, complementin
g the beats and the glittering crowds.

  One small part of me relishes the sight of the writhing sea of glittery people. But only a small part. The other part just wants a drink. But we don’t have just one, and we don’t have the thing I want. Being a red-wine girl, I never expected Angie to be a shot-drinking girl.

  After several, she pushes the final shot at me, as I nod and choke on the previous one. She knocks her glass against mine, spilling Fireball on my fingertips. I toss it back, placing the glass down and shaking my head back and forth. “No more.”

  She grabs my slippery hand and drags me out onto the dance floor.

  The song twists in my mind and my body, and everything feels right. In the midst of shaking with my hands in the air and a permanent grin on my face, I forget to be scared or confused. I have fun, like an idiotic college girl should.

  3. Tall, dark, and handsome

  We stagger from the bar, gripping each other.

  “Top night, Jane.”

  I laugh, shaking my head. “My name is Ash, crazy girl, who’s Jane?”

  She slaps her hand against her head. “Och, I’m drunk. You remind me of a friend I had, back home. Her name was Jane.”

  I giggle, then cringe as a sour burp fills my mouth. I realize the shots are not staying for the whole night. I stumble to the alley next to the bar, dragging Angie with me. “I think I’m going to be siii—”

  “Jesus!” She jumps back just as I decorate the brick wall. I’m trembling and heaving but I can’t stop throwing up, and I assume it’s bad from the commentary and laughing of the people passing by us.

  “Are you all right?” a man asks in the mix of my being sick and Angie shrieking. She says something, but I’m heaving so hard I can’t form the words to explain that I’m fine. The alley starts to darken as my eyes narrow. Everything goes to tunnel vision in the form of a pinhole as I grip the building, my fingers scraping down the bricks trying to steady myself.

  Warmth surrounds me as the deep voice gets closer. “Are you all riiiii—?” His voice blends into the other noises as darkness envelops me completely. I am there, lost in my own blank space and then I am unconscious.