Dying Wish

by Margaret McHeyzer

  DYING WISH

  Copyright © 2016 Margaret McHeyzer

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978–0-9946460–1-9

  This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be stored or reproduced by any process without prior written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.

  All rights to “Dance While You Sleep” lyrics and music Nicki Gillis

  © 2016 Circle Music Publishing & Production

  Written by Nicki Gillis

  Distribution by MGM Distribution

  Interior Formatting by Tami Norman, Integrity Formatting

  www.facebook.com/authormargaretmcheyzer

  email: hit_149@yahoo.com

  Part I

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Part II

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Epilogue

  Dance While You Sleep by Nicki Gillis

  Preview: Mistrust

  Preview: Ugly

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Margaret McHeyzer

  As I lie in my bed, with only the persistent ticking of the wall clock to keep me company, memories of the night I fell in love flood every fiber of my being.

  It could have been destiny, or fate, or perhaps it was my life path. Whatever it was, it was meant to be.

  We were meant to be.

  A smile slowly stretches my face and remembered happiness pushes the dull ache down deep inside.

  That night my mind tried to reason with me, telling me soulmates didn’t exist. That night, my heart spoke back to define what a soulmate truly is. Sometimes they come in the form of a partner, sometimes in the form of a friend.

  I was one of the lucky ones to have two soulmates: my beautiful and incredibly spirited best friend, Becky, and my handsome boyfriend, Elijah.

  Not only were they my soulmates, I was theirs.

  And this is our story . . .

  Buzz.

  Buzz.

  My eyes fly open and I see my phone flashing on my bedside table, the screen lit up with Becky’s smiling face. I grab the phone and swipe to answer it while glancing at my alarm clock to see it’s just before one in the morning. “You okay?” I ask in a voice thick with sleep.

  “Get your butt out here,” Becky demands in what’s meant to be a whisper, but isn’t.

  “Where are you?” I sit up in bed, yawning and stretching.

  “I’m outside your house! Come on, hurry up! We’re going to be late.”

  “Becky, it’s late, and I’m asleep. What are you doing?”

  “We’re sneaking into a club so we can see the coolest band in the whole wide world.” She draws out the word ‘coolest’ as she squeals her excitement into the phone.

  “I told you, I’m asleep. Besides, we can’t get into any club for, you know, another five years. Minor detail,” I say, rolling my eyes.

  She chuckles at me, and I can imagine her standing outside my house in skinny jeans and a tank top, a full face of makeup. “Well yeah, Alley-cat. That’s why I got us both fake IDs.”

  “Becky, I have my ballet exam in two days, I’ve got an early practice at the studio tomorrow morning, and I need to sleep.”

  “You have tons of time to practice, and anyway, I’ve seen you dance. You’re perfect. Come on, just put on some jeans and sneak out your window. I’m waiting down the street with Laurie, so get your butt into gear. I’ll see you in ten.” She hangs up, not really giving me an option.

  I try calling her back, and she sends it straight to voicemail. Smartass. She knows I’ve got to get dressed to come outside so I can tell her I’m not coming. And once I’m out my window, she’ll convince me to go with her.

  Giving in, I pull on a pair of jeans and a black tank top, slipping on my favorite flats. I slide open my window, lift up the screen, and jump out.

  It’s early May and there are only a few weeks left before school breaks for summer. The nights have been warm, and I know we’re in for a long, hot summer.

  I run down the street to where Becky always waits for me. We don’t do this kind of midnight rendezvous often, but there have been times when Becky calls me in tears, just wanting to talk to someone. Her brother, Caine, is away at college, and her dad works all the time to avoid dealing with his wife’s death six years ago. Her mom died while crossing the street, taking Becky to school. She had a massive heart attack right in the crosswalk, and Becky, still holding her Mom’s hand, blamed herself.

  The night her mom died, Becky snuck out of her house and ran the three blocks over to mine, climbed through my window and into my bed. She cried all night long. She told me she should’ve just done what her mom told her to do, that if her mom hadn’t gotten angry at her for taking her time getting ready that morning, maybe her heart wouldn’t have broken. The next morning, Mom came in to wake me and found Becky curled up in bed with me. She said we were holding hands while we slept.

  Now it’s a habit. She often comes to my house to talk and we talk about everything—school, ballet, guitar, boys. She even told me about the first night she did it. It was with Laurie, and she said it was nothing like the romance books we occasionally steal from my mother.

  Unless they’re about ballet, I’m not too interested in books. Ballet has been my life since I was four years old; I live it, breathe it, and feel it from the moment I wake until the moment I sleep. My ultimate goal is to dance for the American Ballet Theatre, to be their principal dancer. I want the spotlight on me, to be a dancer of such high caliber that other dancers look at me in envy. I don’t mean that in a cruel way. It’s purely a selfish personal goal. I want to be the absolute best I can.

  “Alley-cat!” Becky calls as she sees me jogging toward her. “Let’s go.” She starts walking backwards toward Laurie’s old, beat-up car.

  “I’m not going. I have my ballet exam in two days. Besides we’ve never been inside a club before. My mom will kick both our asses if we get caught. I only came out here to tell you I’m going back to bed.” I turn to leave but she grabs my upper arm.

  “Alice,” she whines, pulling me back toward her. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but I was talking to this guy at guitar practice today, Wicked J, who plays in a band called Triple Threats. They’re gigging tonight and said I should come ‘cause he wants to get me up to play a song with them.” Becky gives after-hour lessons to the junior kids at her fancy music school.

  “I can’t afford to have it on my record if we get caught at a club with fake IDs, Becky. I’ll never get accepted into the American Ballet Theatre if I have a police record. No, I can’t go.” I look over at Laurie, who’s in the driver’s seat of the car waiting for us. I wave, an
d he waves back.

  Becky tilts her head to the side, her long blonde ponytail falling over her shoulder. She bats her big brown eyes at me and half smirks. “When do I ever get you in trouble?”

  “Hmmm, let me see,” I say as I turn and start walking away again. “Maybe the time you wanted to try a cigarette and Mom only saw me taking a drag. Or the time I stole a beer out of the fridge for you, and Dad saw me with it while you were in the bathroom peeing. Or maybe the time . . .”

  “Yeah, yeah, alright, smartass. No need to rub it in. I get it. You get in trouble for me all the time, but this time it’s really important to me.” Her tone softens and I know by her voice that she’s telling the truth.

  I turn around. Damn Becky and her begging. “One hour. That’s all, because I have this exam and I have to practice for it. One hour.” I hold a finger up, affirming the time frame I’m giving her.

  “Yes!” Becky squeals as she jumps up and down and claps her hands. “As soon as we get there, I’ll find Wicked J and see if I can go up and play a song or two, and I promise I’ll have you home in an hour.”

  I climb into the backseat and put my seatbelt on. “Hey, Laurie,” I say once we’ve started down the road. “Where’s the club?”

  “Well . . . it’s actually not really a club,” Becky says, turning in her seat to look at me from the front.

  “What exactly does that mean, Rebecca?”

  “Crap, you’re mad. I hate it when you call me ‘Rebecca.’”

  I breathe in deeply and count to ten in my head, trying to remain the logical one out of the two of us—three if you count Laurie, which we never seem to do. “I am, because you told me it’s a club and now you’re saying it’s not. Where are we going?”

  “It’s a bar in the next town over. It’ll be fun!”

  “The next town over?”

  We live in a small town in northern Florida where everyone knows each other’s business. I’ve lived here all my life, and I can’t walk down the street without someone saying ‘hello’ to me.

  “Yeah, it’s about a half-hour drive.” Becky smiles at me, but there’s panic in her eyes. She thinks I’m going to yell at her. And I am.

  “You promised me we’d be back in an hour,” I say, punching her in the arm. “You liar!”

  “We will be back in an hour. Or two.”

  “I’ll drive at record speed to get you home before the sun is up,” Laurie tries to soothe me as we head down the highway toward the town line.

  “Yeah, great idea, Laurie. Speed so you get caught by the cops, who, with our luck, will ask if our parents know we’re out in the early hours of the morning and call my mom and dad to confirm. Good one.” I feel like smacking him on the back of the head.

  “Oh yeah,” Laurie answers after a moment of quiet. Becky starts laughing, and I roll my eyes.

  Laurie’s a nice boy. I say ‘boy’ because he’s only just turned eighteen and frankly, he’s not too smart. I know he thinks more with the brain inside his pants than the one inside his head because Becky tells me how many times they do it. She says he’s insatiable. Laurie’s nice, though, and I like him. But I know Becky, and within a few weeks—or months—she’ll get sick of him.

  Becky is what’s politely known as a free spirit. She doesn’t want to be tied down to anything but her music. She’s an incredibly talented guitarist, and she writes her own music. But her goal is to be up on stage in a band with a vocalist singing her songs.

  “You excited?” I ask Becky as Laurie gets closer and closer to our destination.

  “Hell yeah, I am. I’m gonna rock it hard.” She tosses her hair, but I can tell she’s nervous from the way she’s twisting her fingers together.

  “Yeah, babe. Rock it,” Laurie pipes up to encourage her.

  I laugh, because Laurie says it in a way that’s supposed to be sexy. But to me, he’s just Laurie.

  “Hey, guess what I heard at school today?” Becky turns in her seat to look at me.

  “What?”

  “Elijah Turner has the hots for you.”

  “Elijah? Really?” I wince at the thought of him asking me out. He’s always been a total pain in my neck. In elementary school he used to call me “germ girl,” and I haven’t seen any evidence he’s changed. “Whatever.” I sit back in the seat and watch the darkness outside the car and think about what Becky just said.

  “Hey, what’s that?” I turn to Becky who’s pointing a finger at me.

  “What?”

  “You’re smirking.”

  I make an effort to blank my expression. “I am not.”

  “You are too. Look at you, you’ve got a big, cheesy grin on your face.”

  “I do not.” I turn to hide my face from Becky. She’s always been able to read me like an open book.

  “Oh my God! You have a crush on Elijah. Since when?”

  “I do not. Shut up and concentrate on your music for tonight.”

  “Since when?” God, she’s stubborn. “Alice,” she says, but I ignore her. “Alley-cat.” I turn to look at her and raise my eyebrows. “Since when have you had a crush on Elijah?”

  “I don’t have a crush on him.” But my stupid mouth turns up in a smile. I can’t hide the fact I think he’s cute.

  “Don’t bullshit me, sister. I can see it! It’s so obvious even Laurie here can see it. Can’t you, babe?”

  “Huh?” Laurie grunts from the front. “Did you say something?” Laurie generally tunes out when Becky and I are together, which is often.

  “Nah, nothing. Go back to driving.” Becky runs her fingers through his long hair then turns back to look at me. “So, tell me. How long’s this crush been going on for?”

  “It’s nothing, really. Don’t worry about it.”

  “You’re so telling me. How long?” She flicks me on the leg.

  “You know.” I shrug and turn my head so she can’t meet my eyes, or my smile.

  “Nah, I don’t know, which is why I’m asking. Come on, spill!”

  “Nothing to spill. I just saw him playing ball out on the back field a couple of weeks ago, but I didn’t know who he was until I sat down to have lunch and he ran down to my end of the field. When I saw who it was, I got a bit embarrassed.”

  “When was this? I don’t remember you ever sitting at the back field for lunch.”

  “You were sick. I had a crapload of work for English, so I went to sit out there for lunch to catch up, and I kinda . . . you know.”

  “You were drooling over Elijah.”

  “I was not!” I was.

  “What is it about him? His blond hair? How damned tall he is? Those deliciously toned legs? Mmmm, mmm.”

  “Hey!” Laurie protests from beside her, suddenly tuning in at the most awkward of moments. “I’m sitting right here. Do I have to go punch him out?”

  Becky and I smile at each other. Laurie is so sweet; he wouldn’t be able to punch anyone even if he tried. “Sorry, babe,” Becky says, rubbing his thigh.

  “It’s okay,” he mutters.

  “Anywho, spill. What is it about him you like?”

  “Nothing. I just thought he looked kinda hot out on the sports field, and then when I actually realized who he was, I was turned off.” I look out the window and notice we’ve exited the highway. We should be there soon.

  “Is that it?” Becky asks, smacking my leg again.

  “Stop hitting me, and yeah that’s it. There’s nothing more to it.”

  The heavy sound of drums vibrates through the bar. The band is playing some rock song, and as we approach the door, two bouncers stop us to check our IDs.

  Trying to appear confident, I casually pass over the fake ID Becky handed me in the car. I’m so damn nervous, though. I swear, my hands are sweating and shaking. A sure-fire way for me to get us kicked out of the club before we even get inside.

  One bouncer stares at my ID and flicks his head to the side, granting me access. I can barely keep from beaming with relief, but if I’d thought my sweat
y palms were a give-away, acting like a kid who’d just tricked him is an even bigger one.

  Laurie and Becky get through and the three of us head straight to the bar. I hop up on a barstool and look around.

  Considering it’s a weeknight, the place is full of people. Doesn’t anyone sleep? Thankfully the bar is smoke-free, so when I get home my clothes won’t stink. I may just be able to sneak back in without my parents finding out I was ever out.

  “What can I get ya?” asks a lady from behind the bar. She’s not very old, maybe early twenties, and has her blonde hair up in a ponytail so severe it makes even me, accustomed to ballet buns, wince. She looks bored.

  “I’ll have a diet Coke, please.” She nods once and grabs a glass, filling it with ice before she sprays Coke from a hose.

  “Whatcha having?” Becky slings her arm over my shoulder.

  “A diet Coke.”

  “Seriously? Diet Coke? Live a little; have a regular Coke, at least. Or why not make it interesting and get a whiskey and Coke?”

  “I told you—I have practice tomorrow and an exam in two days. You’re lucky I’m even here.”

  Becky makes a face at me. “Fine.”

  The music in the club is loud, but not so loud I can’t hear what’s going on. “That’ll be five dollars,” the bartender says, placing the Coke down in front of me.

  Five dollars for a Coke! I look to Becky, who takes a twenty out of her pocket and gives it to the bartender. Considering she dragged me out of my comfortable bed, the least she could do was buy my drinks, and she knows it. “I’ll have a Corona, thanks,” Becky says to the bartender.

  “Becky, no. If you’re gonna get up there to play, you need to have a clear head . . . well, as clear as your head can be.” I look around and notice Laurie isn’t next to her. “Where’s Laurie?”

  “First, I’m only having one beer because truthfully . . .” She leans in close and whispers right in my ear, “I’m so damn nervous.”

  I put my glass down and turn to look at Becky. In all the years I’ve known her, I’ve never ever seen her so jittery. Her cheeks are pink and her eyes are panicked and worried. “You’re the most talented guitarist I’ve ever seen in my entire life. There’s no reason you should be nervous. Get up there and do your thing.”