Beautiful Downfall

by Scarlett Jade

  “Really?” Camille was taken aback by the compliment.

  “Um, seriously. People wish that even contacts looked that good. Your eyes are seriously not a color most people have. It's special and pretty. Okay, close your eyes and shut up. Let me do my work.” Camille obeyed her with a huff. She felt brushes being smoothed over her skin for a couple of minutes. “Open your eyes. I'm gonna put mascara on these babies. Blink. Blink. Blink. Good. Yep, damn I'm good.” She pulled a tube of lip gloss out and a disposable lip brush. She swirled the creamy pink across Camille's lips and ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it slightly. “Okay, here, take a look.” She held up a hand mirror for Camille to look in.

  Sarah had used purples and silvers on her eyes, and they looked huge in her face, with their impossibly long dark lashes. Her skin was creamy dreamy peaches-and-cream and her lips were shimmering with the pale pink gloss. “Oh wow, it looks pretty,” she said in shock and awe. She looked up at Sarah with a grin.

  “Um, it's not pretty. You look gorgeous. Stop selling yourself short, dude. Come on, let's go, it starts soon.” Sarah closed her compacts and jammed them back in the monster body bag and hefted it up to her shoulder.

  “You still won't tell me where we are going?” Camille picked her purse up and checked to make sure she had her wallet.

  “No. It will be good for you. Live a little.” She looked over her shoulder at Camille. “Come on slow poke!” She grinned and opened the door, stepping outside.

  Camille followed her out the door, locking it behind her. She looked at the horizon. The last vestiges of sunlight were flooding the sky, smearing the sky like an artist's canvas, a vivid bouquet of pink and gold, highlighted with the exact orange of Sarah's hair. “Sarah, has anyone told you that you have incredible hair?”

  Sarah was opening her car door and looked up at Camille and laughed. “I hear it all the time. You know gingers supposedly don't have souls, right?” She laughed hard. “Believe it or not, it's actually my natural color. But I'm the only one in my family with red hair. My brother has black hair and so does my mom.”

  Camille walked down the sidewalk to Sarah's car. “Seriously? Are you the milk man's kid? It's beautiful and I'm jealous.” She opened the passenger door and climbed in.

  Sarah laughed heartily. “Who knows? My mom was promiscuous back in the day, and I'm just as jealous of your come hither eyes. We all got something someone else wants. Humans by nature are never damn satisfied, but then again, neither is anything else.” She turned the key in the ignition and Camille had to admire the car started with only one key turn.

  Camille nodded, perturbed slightly at her comment. It just had hit the ear weird. She couldn't put her finger on what exactly bothered her, but something did. “Yeah, I don't think anyone is ever satisfied, you're right. We always want something else, the grass looks greener kind of thing.”

  Sarah nodded in agreement. “Yep, it gets us in trouble too.” She pulled smoothly out into traffic. “So do you want to listen to the radio? I've got a really cool pop station I like a lot.” Her hand paused above the knob.

  “No! Please.” Camille felt her throat close in dismay.

  Sarah shot her a quick look but didn't push the issue. “Okay, no big.” She shrugged and they spent the rest of the ride in silence. She pulled the car into a parking spot and threw the car in park. “We are here.”

  Camille looked around nervously. “We are where?”

  Sarah pointed across the street. “That little cool coffee shop over there. They have incredible kombucha tea. And tonight they are doing a poetry slam.” She turned the ignition off and opened her door. “Come on!”

  “What is a poetry slam?” Camille opened her door and stepped out. She shut the door and Sarah hit the lock button on her key-chain.

  Sarah smiled tensely as if she was used to this question. “A poetry slam is basically where people recite poetry, get feedback, scores, share new stuff, that kind of thing. They even have a newbie time slot.”

  Camille readjusted her purse on her shoulder as they crossed the street. “Oh.”

  Sarah smiled reassuringly. “You'll like it, I promise.”

  Chapter Ten – Desperation

  She opened the door and stepped in the squat building. The place was comfortable, brick colored booths lined the walls, abstract art in warm shades filled the walls, and the atmosphere was homey. A smooth chocolate colored counter stood in a corner, disguising the machines that whirred and dripped. Her mouth watered at the combination of rich smells enveloping them. She hadn't been in a coffeehouse in, well, forever.

  “Sarah, I'm going to order a drink, okay?” She pointed over to the register with her thumb.

  Sarah turned to her and grinned. “Yeah! Get a biscotti too. The pistachio white chip ones are to die for. I'm gonna mingle and find us a table, okay?” Before Camille could respond, Sarah was off, jangling and waving.

  Camille shook her head and smiled to herself. She went up to the counter and a cute barista smirked at her. “Hey there, gorgeous! Can I get you something?” He leaned on the counter and grinned fully, his tan face dimpling right at the corners of his mouth. He was cute. But too cocky.

  “Um, yeah. What would you recommend? It's been a while since I've had anything fancier than store bought.” She shifted her purse on her shoulder.

  The guy looked at her like she'd lost her mind. “Seriously? Who can live without coffee?” He looked her up and down as if appraising her body, he obviously approved because he continued with, “Well, gorgeous, today is your lucky day, I'm going to make you a coffee that will put all other expensive drinks to shame. You will be addicted, and come back here to see me every day until I get your number and can take you on a date. You'll see. I'm that good.” He winked, his lid closing over his blue eye for a split second.

  Camille felt herself blush even though she was annoyed with his come on tactics. “Oh. Um. Okay, thanks.”

  “Gah!” He grinned and winked again. “Gorgeous and shy, my favorite combo! I may have to get your number before you leave here tonight. What do you think?” He was frothing milk and putting all sorts of drizzles of different syrups in the huge concoction he was making.

  Camille shrugged. “I don't really date.”

  The guy smiled, those dimples showing back up. “Well, maybe I can convince you.” She saw his pecs flex in his skin tight shirt. “I'm Kade and here is your better-than-store-bought-coffee, beautiful mystery girl. It is on the house.” He had made the foam on the top look like a heart. Camille wanted to kind of puke at the blatant 'you want to fuck me' vibes she got from him.

  She smiled tightly, hoping he would get the hint already. “Thanks but you guys have to make money. Let me pay for it.” She pulled her wallet out.

  “Nope,” Kade replied, turning on some more sex appeal, “Your money is no good here.” He crossed his arms over his chest, those pecs fluttering and grinned again. “However, your number would be really great in my phone right now, gorgeous.”

  “Oh. Okay. Well, thanks for the drink. I don't think I'll be giving you my number though. I don't date, like I said.” She grabbed the cup with both hands, and turned to look for Sarah.

  “Anytime, beautiful. Sure hope I can change your mind!” He called over the noise of the coffeehouse.

  She maneuvered her way through the tables, ignoring him and found Sarah at a small table by herself. Sarah smiled brightly. “Hey! You got your coffee. You forgot the biscotti! Did that cute hunk Kade flirt with you?” Camille nodded and sat down. “Oh gosh, Kade does that to all the hot girls. I think the only reason the owner doesn't fire him is because he brings in all kinds of crazy good business. Ooh, look the slam is getting ready to start!” She turned to the small stage set in the middle of the floor with a mic.

  A guy with blond dreads came up to the mic. “Hey everyone! How are you guys tonight?” His voice was melodic and smooth. Everyone cheered. Camille took a sip of her sickeningly sweet coffee, grimaced and then politely cl
apped. “We are getting ready to have an awesome slam tonight. I see a few new faces here tonight, you guys we do a newbie time slot a few times during the night. We want you up here, even if it's something simple. We wanna hear your work! So are we ready for some poetry?” Everyone cheered again. “Then let's do this!” He raised his arms like he'd just kicked a field goal. Camille laughed.

  A girl with dyed black hair came up to the mic first and started a poem about blood and vampires, something like that, Camille honestly wasn't sure, she kind of got lost. Everyone cheered, including Sarah, who turned her magnetic eyes on Camille. “Gah! Wasn't that amazing?” Camille smiled and nodded. She felt totally out of her element.

  He watched her sitting in the coffeehouse, sipping coffee she didn't like. She was a fish out of water, and it showed. She turned her head and her hair slipped, revealing her creamy, pale back. He bit his bottom lip. He watched the jerk at the counter grin, his eyes never leaving Camille's body. Anger bubbled up in him and he tamped it down firmly. Angels don't want to kick hot shot people's asses... Much. But hell, I'm breaking all the rules... I'd really like to break his fucking face...

  He slipped through the crowd and brushed Camille's arm. She looked in his direction and flushed. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “I want you to go up there.” She moved her head quickly in a no. “Yes. I want you to. Just start talking. I think you need to. Poetry doesn't have to make sense. It is just supposed to make you feel. And you have a lot you need to feel.” She bit her lip, chewing at the lip gloss on her mouth nervously. “Please. I want you to.” he breathed against her neck, watching goosebumps pop up along her skin in fascination.

  Her throat closed in on itself. Shit. I'm going to do this.

  The blond dread guy came back to the mic. “Okay, we have our first newbie slot! Any takers?” He looked out at the small crowd. No one moved. Sarah turned her eyes back to Camille and smiled and nodded. Camille felt as though someone pulled her hand up. Damn you, Casey. “Yeah, you. The dark haired chick in the back. Come on up. We don't bite!” Everyone clapped politely as Camille stood up.

  Her knees were shaking and sweat popped up on her brow. She hated public speaking. She weaved through the tables to the mic. “Hi. I'm Camille. Um. I've never really done this before. Or been very good at it. But I will try.” She took a slow breath. The crowd cheered her and clapped in support. She closed her eyes and envisioned the ocean where she and Casey met in her dreams. It turned dark in her mind and she went with what she felt.

  “The beach...” She took a slow breath and continued, “So unprotected, from wicked dark waves, crashing and devouring, gnashing sounds like Hell's demons destroying all the sees, violent waves of rhythmic hate, pierce like the vicious wind, cold probing fingers, sharp. Strum broken heartstrings, snap! Destroy and devastate, grab everything, break!” She shrieked then paused, taking a sobbing breath and then continued. “Wild, wicked waves, tearing the innocence away, laughing with foamy lips, and cold liquid teeth, wasted fingers whip around, destroy! The crashing waves laugh and laugh as they take everything I ever knew away and throw it to the deep.” She felt tears running down her face and then Casey's angel arms wrapped around her in the warmest embrace imaginable. She opened her eyes which were swimming with tears to see the whole coffeehouse silent.

  Suddenly they exploded with clapping and cheering. The blond guy with dreads came up to her and said, “Dude, that was one of the best things I've heard from a newbie in a while.” He patted her shoulder and motioned for her to leave the stage.

  “Let's give that chick a hand again, you guys. Dude, that was fantastic!” The coffee house exploded in applause again and a redhead came up to the mic, obviously flustered to come up next.

  He still had his arms wrapped tight around her. He whispered softly, “You did wonderful, sweetheart.” It felt like rubber bands of heat tight around her middle. She stepped to the side and slipped through the crowd to the bathroom. He let her go and she missed the warmth, but he followed close behind. He eased close to her ear. “Do you need me?”

  She looked toward him, her green eyes luminous. “God, yes. Please.”

  It was simple, brutally honest, raw, and it was the very thing that tipped him over the edge. He felt himself falling into the emerald green abyss of her eyes that he'd never get out of. It was too damn late to try.

  “Then I'm yours. However you want me.” His voice was raw with emotion.

  Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes went dark. “Please.” Her eyes begged him to stay.

  He didn't know what she was asking him for, but he knew of only one thing he wanted to give her. She opened the bathroom door and walked through it. He slipped in behind her. She closed and locked the door. He moved quickly, putting both arms up against the door on either side of her. She looked up, feeling his warmth press against her. He slowly lowered his mouth and brushed it over hers, slowly and seductively. He knew she felt little other than strokes of warmth across her mouth. She licked her lip. He felt the wetness of her tongue against his mouth. “Camille, will you meet me in your dreams tonight? Then I can kiss you like I want. I can touch you how I want.” He skimmed his fingers over her shoulders.

  She smiled. “Can I get a preview now? So I'll know if you're worth coming for?” He throbbed at the double implication of her words and the undertone of pure desire in her voice.

  “Sweetheart, you are going to be the death of me,” he ground out from between his teeth.

  “Am I?” She blushed hotly and grinned. “So do I get that preview?”

  “You know you can't feel anything,” he whispered, unable to speak louder. He was going to lose it.

  “But I can imagine, can't I?” Her voice purred out, silky smooth.

  He slipped his hands through her top, that was one perk of being an angel, he didn't need to remove her clothes to touch her skin. She was satiny and hot to the touch. He stroked her stomach. “I'd love to kiss you here. Slowly. Making you crazy for me. Do you feel me?”

  She nodded, her emerald eyes wide. “I feel you. You feel so hot.”

  He drummed in pleasure at her words. “Am I hot, Cami?”

  She bit her lip, those little teeth leaving an indention he'd love nothing more to lick. “You're absolutely burning up.”

  He groaned. “I bet you are too, aren't you?” He stroked her hip. She felt the warmth to her bones.

  “Yes,” she said, her voice raw and fervent in its intensity. She leaned forward slightly and he could feel her pressed to his chest, every soft curve of her lithe little body snuggled up to him. It was torturing him that she felt nothing more than warmth. “Please stay with me,” she whispered, her voice passionate.

  “Yes,” He replied. He could say nothing else. They stood that way for a few moments when the sexually charged spell was broken by knocking on the door.

  “Hey, can you hurry up? I really need to pee. All this kombucha is about to run out of me!”

  Camille sighed. “Yeah, I'll be out in a second.”

  Chapter Eleven – Delirium

  Just like that, he was gone again. He vanished like a whisper in the night. The room was no longer like a sultry summer night tinged with salt air. She felt slightly hollow. It was a feeling that made her uncomfortable so she chose to ignore it. She threw the paper towel in the trash can and opened the door. A girl with purple streaks in her hair pushed into the bathroom, nearly knocking her over. “Sorry, I have to piss like a race horse!” Camille quickly shut the door and weaved through the tables back to Sarah.

  Sarah's magnetic dark eyes focused in on her. “Who knew you had that shit in you, chick?” She nodded in approval. “I knew it would be good for you. So do you feel better?” She leaned forward, propped her elbow on the table and her chin on her hand.

  “Yeah, actually, I think I do.” She sat down with shaky legs.

  “Dude, you are flushed. I didn't know going up there would work that much up in you but it is good. We all need a chance to blow off
steam in one way or the other. Healthy outlets are the way to go. No drugs or getting drunk, orgy sex, cutting or any crazy shit like that. Although orgy sex can be fun in moderation, but you gotta keep yourself up. Not down and you always gotta be the one in control.” Sarah picked up a glass of water and took a sip, refocusing her attention on the young guy at the mic spilling out an awful love poem.

  Camille blushed played with her fingers in her lap. She didn't want the horrifically sweet now cold coffee in front of her, nor did she want to go back to the counter and get something else and deal with Mr. Horny-pants Mc Over-Flirt Weenie-Face. She smirked to herself. Yeah, I bet he has a small dick and is overcompensating by pretending he's some hot shot Romeo sex god. Who wants a guy like that? I'd much rather have someone like... she squirmed in her seat as her brain finished the thought she was trying to stop. Casey.

  She rubbed her forehead in frustration. Sarah noticed. “You okay Camille?”

  She shook her head. “No, my head kind of hurts. I think I might hail a cab and go home. I feel like I have a migraine coming on. Would you be horribly pissed?” She grabbed her purse and got ready to stand.

  Sarah stood up quickly. “No, we can go. It's about over anyway. Mostly the dredges of the cup are left now and the poetry starts to kind of suck at this point.” She realized she'd said it loud and gotten a few dirty looks. “Sorry you guys know it's true.” A few people shrugged and she continued on talking to Camille. “Have you eaten anything since your pretzel earlier? How about some food? I know a place that does some amazing vegan cheese fries.”

  Camille fought with herself but in the end, the side she knew should win, won. She'd never be able to sleep yet. “Yeah, sure. I need to get out of the house anyway.”

  Sarah grinned, “Sweet, come on.” They left the shop and crossed the street. She punched a button on her keyring and the car went berserk, lights flashing and the alarm squealing. “Shit!” She punched buttons repeatedly and began hitting it on her hand. The car let out one last defiant squawk before falling silent. “Jeez. I do that all the time. Sorry.” She rolled her eyes.