by Sarah Noffke
“All clear,” the guard came back and said a minute later.
“Did you check under the bed for the boogie man?” I said to the buffoon. “I’m certain he’s under there, but I can’t build up the gumption to look for myself.”
A small amused smile lit up Dahlia’s face. “Leave us, boys,” she said, talking to the guards, but her eyes still hinged on me. I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. It made me feel different. Affected.
The guards both exited the flat. Just before one pulled the door shut I said, “Don’t go far, boys, I might need your protection.” This didn’t produce a single reaction from the meatheads.
“Oh, you know I’m harmless,” Dahlia said, taking off her fitted trench coat and handing it to me. She was wearing a lavender dress that I pretended not to notice was perfectly tight.
“Actually, I don’t know a lick about you,” I said, flinging her jacket on the chair in the corner.
“I was kind of hoping you’d hang that up,” she said, that amused expression on her face again.
“Were you? And are you also hoping I’ll offer tea and biscuits, because you’re wasting your time. I’m an awful host, so if you’re looking for hospitality then you’ve come to the wrong place, luv,” I said.
Not a single reaction registered on her face. She simply strolled through my flat, admiring the furnishings. Studying them. Dahlia then stopped in front of a painting over the sofa, and blinked with sudden disbelief. Her hand raised and she pointed at it. “Is that a real Van Gogh?”
I sighed, walked over to the fireplace, and leaned against the mantel. “Do you take me for the type who would have a forgery? Of course it is,” I said, disgust heavy in my voice.
“Do you appreciate Van Gogh because you’re both misunderstood redheads?” Dahlia said, turning to gauge my reaction to the question.
She was crafty. Played a game that most didn’t dare to play with me. For some odd reason people have always been intimidated by me. Usually my abrasive nature keeps these cowards at a distance, but Dahlia didn’t seem deterred. She wasn’t putting up with me like Cindy did, she was volleying with me and it was actually quite intriguing.
“So do you regularly hunt down people who attend your concerts and barge into their homes?” I said.
Dahlia took a seat on the leather sofa, crossing her legs in front of me. “You’re the first.”
“By all means, please have a seat,” I said with an exasperated groan. “Make yourself at home.”
“It appears I have,” she said, a smile in her eyes.
“You apparently didn’t get the hint last night when I left you at the restaurant, did you?” I said.
She was studying me again, not even daring to hide the way her eyes were trailing over my features. I worked hard to keep my hands still, to remain completely frozen inside and out. Her gaze shouldn’t have had that type of effect on me, to make me feel fidgety.
“Do I need to put out a bowl of water for your meatheads?” I said to break the silence.
An all wrong, satisfied smile spread on her ruby lips. She patted the place on the sofa beside her. “Come sit. I want to learn more about who Ren is. That’s why I’m here.”
I strolled over to Dahlia and peered down at her with a menacing stare. “Can’t you figure that out the same way you learned where I live?”
She looked up at me, holding my gaze with a determination I’ve rarely seen. “I want to learn about you, from you. It’s more fun that way.”
I brushed past her, my trousers touching her bare legs, and then I took up residence in my plaid armchair. Taking my time I made myself comfortable, crossing my ankle over my knee. Then I propped my elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled my hands in front of me. Only then did I flick my eyes at her. She had been watching my every move with her sparkling blue eyes.
“Why?” I finally said.
She blinked at me in surprise. “Why what?”
“Why me? Why did you come here to learn about me?” I said, wondering if this was a strange dream. It was starting to feel like one. The way she was threatening my rough exterior couldn’t be real.
She crossed her long-fingered hands in her lap and her eyes fell to the coffee table, finally giving me some relief from her penetrating stare. “All my life I’ve felt too big for the spaces I entered. Not physically, of course,” she said. “My energy always seems to overwhelm a room. Most people don’t understand that though. But last night when we met, you had that power. If my observation is correct then I think you feel exceptional in an ordinary world. When you enter a space, do you own it? Command it without meaning to?”
I stretched my arms over my head and yawned loudly. “I can read minds and control them, obviously I’m extraordinary.”
“But your powers don’t work on me?” she said, staring at me again.
“Your point?” I said.
“Well, you probably think that you have that commanding presence because of your gifts, is that right?” she asked.
I held my fingernails up and pretended to be inspecting them. “Ding. Ding. Ding. Give the diva a gold star. What’s your bloody point?” I said, still not looking at her.
“My point is that your gifts don’t work on me and I’m absolutely captivated by you,” Dahlia said, not a hint of nervousness in her voice. All confidence.
I wanted to look at her, but I was afraid to. This was taking a path I wasn’t sure how to navigate. I had always known how to steer a conversation. I’m a fucking master at strategy. But not with Dahlia. “You are probably intrigued by my gifts. I can’t blame you. I’m sure I’m like a circus act to you.”
“Oh no,” she said matter-of-factly. “I had this reaction before I knew what you were capable of.”
Unable to resist a moment longer, I brought my eyes up to meet hers. “If you’re trying to get me to take off your clothes then all you have to do is ask,” I said with devilish grin. “I’m easy. Ask around. Everyone will tell you it’s true.”
She cocked her head to the side with a smile. “Tell me how this dream travel works.”
“So you don’t want me to take off your clothes?” I said, angling a raised eyebrow at her. “I could have sworn that’s where this whole ‘I’m obsessed with you’ thing was going.”
Dahlia held my gaze, amusement playing on her face.
“Fine. Fine,” I said, slouching down in the chair. “We’ll talk some more, but it might kill me, just so you know. I’m not really the ‘talking’ type.”
“So you can really go anywhere with your dreams? And the experience is real?” she asked.
“Yes, I close my eyes and make an intention and my consciousness soars through space and time. It really explores real places as they are. I can’t affect those not dream traveling, but I can affect the physical realm,” I said in a monotone voice. “It’s all very fascinating for Middlings, I’m sure, but you grow rather bored with it when you’re me.”
“And I’m a Middling? Because I can’t dream travel and have no gift?” she asked.
“That’s right, luv. You have no psychic gifts and your dreams are confined to whatever your subconscious serves up,” I said, enjoying too much the way her eyes scanned without seeing as she processed this all.
“So when you touch anyone besides me, you always hear their thoughts?” she asked, a speculative look making her look beautifully intelligent.
“Right again,” I said, my voice bored.
“Has that made sexual experiences weird?” she said, her face angled to the side and curiosity in her eyes.
Dahlia’s boldness was absolutely attractive. I was afraid my attraction for her was starting to slip out of me, displaying itself on my features. “Well, it isn’t weird for the other person since I know exactly what they want and how they want it,” I said. “And usually I’m all too happy to give it to them.”
I spied a small shiver run over her shoulders. I had just made her flustere
d. It was about time. “But for me, it’s quite irritating. The last thing I want to hear is other people’s thoughts when shagging them,” I said, hoping to spy her grow even more uncomfortable.
Instead a sly smile spread on her large mouth. “Well, then just imagine how perfect the experience would be with me.”
Something lodged itself in my throat. I hoped she didn’t notice me strain to swallow past it. “Is this when you take off your clothes?” I managed to say with the perfect degree of disinterest.
She stood and walked around the coffee table, her nude heels making note of each of her steps. Dahlia then paused two feet from me. She extended her hand. “This is when I ask you to take me to lunch.”
I considered her, her outstretched hand. “Oh, fine, I guess I do have to eat,” I said, taking her hand as I stood. And again I felt the touch of human contact without being bombarded by someone else’s thoughts. It was utterly better than I ever imagined the experience to be. I was finally living in the moment. Experiencing touch as it was intended. I should have realized right then I was a bloody goner.
Chapter Twelve
I hadn’t gone on many dates, not until that first lunch with Dahlia. I didn’t need to take girls out and listen to them ramble to get what I wanted. And I got that some people went on a date for other reasons than to score at the end. Companionship is a thing. I knew that. But I’ve always enjoyed my loneliness. People annoy me and I’d rather be alone than annoyed.
However, Dahlia didn’t annoy me like other people did. Most people irritate me with their stupidity and lack of imagination. That didn’t describe Dahlia in the least. During lunch she worked to find my buttons and then she commenced to push them over and over and over again. And strangely I liked it. More than that I liked the things Dahlia said when she wasn’t straining at the seams to get under my skin. At first I had mistaken her confidence to be a result of her global success. I was wrong. Dahlia wasn’t bold because she was famous. She was famous because she was bold.
Lunch ended too early and I found I had more I wanted to ask her. More I wanted to say. I had only ever met one person I enjoyed being with and he was dead. And then God sent Dahlia into my life. She marveled at my skill as Jimmy had and she wasn’t constrained by a boring conscience. Oh, and she was a whole lot better to look at than Jimmy.
“I want to see you use your mind control on someone,” she said as we walked down the street after lunch. We weren’t going anywhere and neither one of us was making an attempt to end the date.
“I’m not a bloody show pony,” I said.
She spun around in front of me and halted, making me halt too. “Oh, you’re not? Too bad because I would have loved a ride.”
I stared down at her with a sinister look. Even in her heels she was six inches shorter than me. The perfect height. “I’m sure you would have,” I said, strolling around her and veering into Hyde Park. I took a seat in the middle of a grassy knoll as far away from a blasted tree as possible.
Dahlia’s buffoons kept a safe distance from us. She sat beside me, her legs tucked to the side. She was probably not too comfortable sitting on the ground in a tight dress.
“What exactly do you want me to do with my mind control?” I said, my arms on my knees.
“Make that girl do a cartwheel,” she said, pointing at a teenager who was hanging with a gaggle of other obnoxious teenagers.
“What if she doesn’t know how?” I said.
“What do you mean?” Dahlia asked.
“Well, I can’t make someone do something if they don’t know how to do it. If they can’t play a piano concerto then all the mind control in the world won’t work to make them perform one.”
“That’s interesting,” Dahlia said, staring at the girl. “But she’ll know how to do a cartwheel. Everyone knows how.”
“I don’t know how to do a daft cartwheel,” I said.
“What? You don’t?” she said in disbelief.
“What use did I have learning such nonsense?”
“Oh, you’ve missed out,” she said, shaking her head at me. “First you make her cartwheel, then I’ll teach you how.”
“You’re going to cartwheel in a dress?” I said.
She shrugged. “The worst that will happen is you’ll see my panties.”
“Right, and I’m going to see those anyway. On my floor,” I added a tick later.
She shook her head and shot me a simmering look but there was a smile under it. “Go ahead, Ren, make an innocent girl embarrass herself in front of her friends,” she said, pointing to the group.
I shot a single look at the girl and directed a visual and a well-crafted thought. Dahlia watched and then her mouth popped open when the girl whirled around and did an impromptu cartwheel, but she didn’t do just one. I made the teenager do it again and again until she’d done five in a row. She would have done six but dizziness took over her and she fumbled to the ground. Her friends sprinted over, doubled over with laughter and only a smidge of concern for their almost passed out friend.
“Ren!” Dahlia said, grabbing my forearm. A huge grin spread her mouth wide. “You did that!” she said in astonishment.
“Oh, don’t tell me you didn’t believe me until now,” I said.
“Ren,” she said, her face going completely slack with seriousness. “I didn’t believe you had mind control until now.” She turned her attention back to the group. The girl had recovered and was sitting up but still looked winded. Her friends, though, were inspired now and a few of them were attempting to do back to back cartwheels, seeing if they could beat the girl’s five in row.
Dahlia laughed. “And you didn’t have her do just one. Were you showing off for me?”
“No, but now you can show off for me,” I said, pointing at the grass in front of us. “Show me your pants. I mean, teach me how to cartwheel. But I’ll warn you I’m an awful learner and might need you to demonstrate numerous times.”
“You know how you seem to be heartless about making unknowing people do things?” Dahlia asked.
“Yeah,” I said without too much consideration of the question.
“Well, I have the same thing with lying,” she said. “I don’t mind doing it a bit.”
My mouth popped open with disgust. “So no cartwheels then?”
“Nope,” she said, kicking her heels off and springing to her feet. “But tag, you’re it,” she said, poking my shoulder and then sprinting in the opposite direction.
“Oh no you didn’t,” I said with disbelief, shuffling to my feet and chasing after her. I heard her giddy laughter as I closed the distance between us. I would have been laughing too but I was having a hard time computing this “play” that I’d willingly entered into. And I was enjoying it. Something had put a halt on my apathetic nature and I was actually having a rare experience. I was having fun. And as I neared her a rough breathless laugh escaped my mouth.
I grabbed Dahlia’s shoulder and wrestled her gently to the grass. We rolled until she ended up on top of me, as I intended. Her hair fell vertically around me and she looked down with a mischievous glint. I pinned my hands on her hips and she moved down closer to me. We were both winded from running but I liked the way her breath caressed my warm cheeks. I encouraged her closer. Without restraint she leaned into me, sliding a hand down my jaw, not pouring any of her thoughts into my head with the touch.
“Come here,” I encouraged, grabbing her chin and angling it toward mine.
Dahlia moved in as someone simultaneously called out. “Look! That’s Dahlia!”
She jerked upright with a look of pure horror on her face. I angled my head to the side. A group had gathered twenty yards away and were gawking at us, some pulling out their cameras and snapping shots.
I whipped my head in the other direction. Her guards were double the distance of the hoard of fans who were moving closer, increasing with speed every second.
“Come on, Dahlia,” I said, shooting
to a standing position and grabbing her hand. “We have to get out of here.” The group of fans was now between us and the guards. I shot a look in the opposite direction. It was clear. “This way,” I said, pulling her away.
I could control two to three minds at once but I couldn’t control a mob of hormone-crazed teenagers. Barefoot and breathless, Dahlia raced beside me, easily keeping up. We sped out of the park and I knew the asphalt must be hell on her feet. But she didn’t even grimace as we sprinted. She only whipped her head around to catch the distance of the fans trailing us. Running from them only seemed to incite them more, like this was a game. I had no idea what they’d do if they got ahold of her. People are crazy to the ones they love.
We rounded a corner and she reached out and grabbed my hand, pulling me into a tourist shop full of souvenirs.
“Are you insane?” I said, spinning her around. “This is an awful place to hide.”
She stepped up close to me, a mock threat in her eyes. “And hiding is impossible with your unmistakable red hair. We need a hat and shoes pronto.”
I raised an impressed eyebrow. “So disguises, eh? That sounds like fun.”
“Yeah, and if these fans are like most they’ll spread out and search this area,” Dahlia said.
“What do they do if they corner you?” I asked.
“Sometimes they throw their arms around me and beg for me to sign various body parts. But they always talk to me. A lot,” she said.
I grimaced. “Sounds horrible.”
“It is. I hate the public,” she said through clenched teeth.
A satisfied smile spread across my face. “Dahlia, you may not be so bad after all.”
“Oh, come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me deeper into the tiny shop. “I’m amazing and soon you’ll admit it.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I covered my giddy smile. This girl had the effect on me to make me giddy. I had a simultaneous urge to kiss her and strangle her. Ren Lewis didn’t do giddy.
We exited the shop two minutes later. I had a bowler hat pulled down low over my hair and dark shades covering my emerald green eyes. Dahlia had tied her long brown hair into a bun and tucked it in a cap. She also had on a Hyde Park sweatshirt and a pair of flip-flops.