Pieces Of One, Part 1 (The Dark Life Collection)

by Ricketts, SVC

  “Touch me,” I sigh in his ear.

  Xander ceases a breath and his eyes pop open. He abruptly pulls back, leaving me cold.

  Shit!

  Grabbing my shoulders to hold me at bay, he seeks out the truth in my eyes. A disgusted sneer pinches his mouth when he pushes me away. “Marvy?”

  I shrug a shoulder and front a calculated coyness. “I just wanted to see what the difference was.”

  “You’re such a bitch!” he says wiping his mouth as if he just drank battery acid.

  Ouch.

  Not completely discouraged, I sit on the bed and lean back on one arm. Crossing my legs in a very Marvy way, I throw my hair over my shoulder. “Oh face it Xander, you liked it! You like it both ways, sweet little Trista innocence, and my dirty ways. That’s why this relationship is perfect for you!” I smirk with my best ‘Come Fuck Me’ eyes and pat the bed. “Now, where were we?” I say pulling my t-shirt off in one swoop over my head. My tits bounce out happy to see him since I didn’t bother with a bra this morning.

  “Fuck you, Marvy!” he says, heading to the living room leaving me in shock. “That’s a shitty thing to do! To me AND her!”

  I think my pussy just cried. Oh my God! I just got cock-blocked by Trista!

  “Don’t be such a prude, Xander!” I yell after him.

  “Get lost, Marvy!” he yells back.

  Fucking hell! I’m. In. Fucking. Hell. I flop back, lying on the bed with my arms spread wide. “Don’t be such a pussy, Xander!” I hear him growl. “Do you still have my red dress and stuff?” I loudly ask.

  His “Take your shit and GO!” echoes from the living room.

  “Can I at least take a shower?” I respond, my voice a few octaves higher.

  An adamant, “NO!” returns.

  “Come on, pleeeeaaaaassssse?” I whiningly pleaded.

  “HELL–THE FUCK–NO! GET OUT!” he roars.

  After a few minutes and with a big sigh, I roll off the bed. Begrudgingly, I put Trista’s t-shirt and army jacket back on.

  “Okay, okay. I’m soooorry.” My steps are heavy and floppy as I sulk my way into the living room. I sit on the couch across from a fuming Xander with his arms crossed. He refuses to look at me. That hurts.

  He’s so pissed I swear my hair is frizzing up with the heat emanating from him. Dropping my head back, my clamor of a sigh reverberates in my ears. I roll my eyes and stand. Lifting my right hand, I drop my chin to mimic a low-manly voice. “I solemnly swear on Trista’s body,” I place my left hand over my heart, “that I will never try seducing you again pretending to be Trista.”

  Xander looks at me like I’m insane and shakes his head with a tilted thin smile. “You’re jacked up in the head.”

  “No shit, Sherlock!”

  “Har-de-har-har,” he says and throws a pillow, hitting me in the face.

  WE’RE OUT ON THE balcony smoking while I bring Xander up to speed about Bryson’s card, Jones and Kitta wanting to come tonight, and Dawson’s plan. Trista’s phone is blowing up with calls, voicemail notifications, and text messages. It’s getting on my nerves so I turn it off.

  “So you see I have to stay here till I get wired up in the hotel room.” I giggle. “That sounds dirty.”

  Xander pinches his lips censuring my joke. Tapping his cigarette into his fancy stainless steel ashtray, smoke weaves between his words. “I’m going with you.”

  “No, Xander. I’m ditching Kitta and Jones to keep them safe. I can’t do this and worry about you too. Remember, I have Valeria.”

  “She was almost too late last time.”

  “But this time there will be surveillance and undercover guys in the club, with someone following me, watching me. Okay, now it just sounds creepy.” Although my nerves are on edge, I try to sound flippant.

  “This is not a fuckin’ joke, Marvy! You better start taking this seriously. Your life, Trista’s life, is in your hands. One slip up could cost you. Cost all of us. Why do you do that?”

  “Thanks for stating the obvious.” I stand and walk to the railing, “I know I fucked up. I’m trying to fix it.”

  Putting his smoke out, Xander steps up next to me and hangs his arm around my shoulder. “I know.”

  In a quiet undertone, “But what if that asshole is there? Supak.” A shudder ripples through me. “That there, is why I’m going with you. I know what he looks like. I can be another set of eyes.”

  I never gave myself the chance to get to know Xander like this. I only knew one side of him, but I like this side very much. He’s a good guy I know I don’t deserve. Trista does though. The stab of jealousy pierces me again. Side-by-side we hang out on the balcony without speaking. The sun begins to set and the lights across the city wake up. Watching the streetlights create paths of light across Key Stone, I sigh. “She can’t handle it you know.”

  Xander angles his stare. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”

  His indelible faith in Trista irks me. “Did she tell you about us? Why I’m here? I mean how I came to be?”

  “She told me about the accident,” he says nodding.

  My eyebrows lift. “Is that what she said? Of course she would think that. She’s blocked out everything else before…” My trailing words are lost in the wind. “The accident just gave me a name. I’ve been around since she was four years old. I’m the one who took it. I was made to take it all. I was the one he loved. I’m the one she hated. I’m the one who saved her! I think Valeria was there too, but I can’t be sure. The rest of them just hid, and were pretty much useless.”

  Xander pulls back a little. “What are you talking about? Take what? Who hates you? And the rest of them? There are more alters?”

  My eyes flinch and my head shrinks into my shoulders. “Uh…yeah.” I chew my lip, considering how much to tell Xander. “Mercy is Trista’s invisible friend, poof,” I splay my fingers, “come to life. She kept Trista occupied when…well, when shit went down. Then there’s Star, he’s the super brain. We called him that because the little brown-noser liked getting those little star stickers from the teachers. He’s not around much if she’s not in school or doing something brainiac. He helps her with her homework, but gets frustrated easily and leaves. I suppose it’s how Trista has always done well in school. I even learned French and Calculus with his help. She doesn’t know about Star or Mercy really.”

  “How is that possible? How can she not know about the others? What happened to her?”

  Anger flairs and I snap my eyes to Xander. “To US! And I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just say, that babysitter will never hurt anyone again. After Trista’s parents moved us here, we weren’t needed so we sort of went away. That stupid accident; that fucking accident...,” Xander slips his arm away and sits on the edge of the lounge chair.

  “You know the first memory I had when I came back?” He stares at me blankly. “I woke up staring at the bloody face of her father and a guy with a stupid Marvel Comics t-shirt talking to me, telling me to stay calm. That help was on the way. I didn’t understand what he was talking about. I couldn’t understand the situation I’d gotten myself into. I guess that’s what Trista goes through when we switch. Anywho, the guy was asking me questions like the day, and who the president was. I just thought he was an idiot and didn’t know the answers till I realized I didn’t either. Even though I couldn’t move and even blinking hurt, something about it was funny and I started to laugh. I had to laugh or I would just start screaming and never stop, like Trista was. That was the day I started calling myself Marvy; I really didn’t have a name before that. By that time, Trista had grown so serious all the time. You know, she freaks out over everything: money, school, getting into Baylor, making her mom proud, being the ideal daughter and all that shit. It’s stifling. When she needs a break, I come out for some R&R.” I snort. “Ironically, we keep her sane.”

  “So why are you here now?” He questions, looking at me.

  “I don’t really know. Maybe she can’t
handle all of this. Right now, I think I’m here because she’s so scared and feels so alone. Her fear is my beacon. I can practically taste it on my tongue.”

  Xander casts his gaze, watching the last sliver of sun disappear. Under his breath, he softly mutters, “She’s not alone. She has me now.”

  Puffing up, I tsk. “Shit, better yet, she has us. I’m not sure she realizes it, but for better or worse, we’re a piece of her and will do anything to protect ourselves. It’s our survival at stake too. But I think she’s still screaming despite it all.” I swear, sometimes I can almost hear the screams clamor through my bones. “I’m not sure she’ll ever stop.”

  A weight that has been my noose for so long, finally feels loosened and lighter. Though I’m not sure it was the best idea to tell Xander about the others. The little cockroach has been hissing a slew of words that would make a sailor blush. I don’t understand why she’s pissed. It’s not like I’m making the situation worse. If anything, I’m aligning an ally.

  We both jump when the kitchen phone rings. “You okay?” Xander asks.

  The question is a bit ridiculous, all things considered. I’m really starting to hate being asked. But since I’m still breathing, I suppose I am. I manage a little smile.

  Xander turns to answer the call, but I stop him. “Don’t. It’s probably Kitta looking for me.” I’m on his heels and take a peek at the Caller ID. It is.

  The idiot picks it up anyway, covering the mouth piece. “She’ll freak herself out thinking you got nabbed or something,” he whispers. “Hey Kitta!” I can hear Kitta shrilling both mine and Trista’s name. “Yeah, she stopped by and picked up a dress and some shoes. She left about an hour ago to meet Dawson.” Xander is a pretty good liar on the fly.

  I tap my nails on the counter while Xander talks. He motions to me to stop. “I don’t know where they are now. She wouldn’t tell me. Some hotel room I think. Don’t worry, she’s safe.”

  “Yeah, I’ll see you tonight. Bye,” he closes, and hangs up.

  Scoffing, I retort, “You will not see her tonight!”

  He throws me a condescending look. “I know, but I couldn’t tell her that. I’ll tell Jude not to let her in the club when she gets stopped at the door for ID.” Xander’s confident smile warms my heart.

  This wicked impish side of him is very appealing. “You sneaky mo-fo. Humph! Didn’t know you had it in you, Rush!”

  Xander walks past and slaps my ass. “Okay, let’s start getting ready, the club opens at ten and I know it takes you that long to get ready.”

  Taking an apple from the fruit bowl, I hurl it at him. “Eat me, Xander.”

  “You wish!” he snickers, catching it and taking a bite as he walks backward.

  DETECTIVE PULSON OPENS the door when I arrive at the hotel room. His expression is classic horn dog. “You look dressed for the part!” He leers like he has x-ray eyes. “Where did a girl like you get a dress like that?”

  “It was a gift from a friend,” I counter, tipping a slight grin thinking about how Xander surprised me with it a few weeks ago.

  Pulson staggers when Xander follows me in. “What are you doing here?”

  “It’s my club. I want to make sure she’s safe and you guys don’t shoot it up, or burn it down,” Xander retorts with a frosty edge. “I’m gonna wipe the floor with your ass if you don’t stop looking at her like that. I gave it to her. We went to an event that called for it.” I’ve heard that tone before. His body language screams possession and offense to Pulson’s gawking. It is, after all, Trista’s body too.

  I pretend to occupy myself with the mini suite’s décor, advancing farther into the room. The otherwise modern deco, bathed in elegant creams and tan, has obnoxious apple green curtains that hurt my eyes. All the fixtures are aged bronze and glass. Two light lime-green loveseats with thin gold piping are against the wall and a large thick glass coffee table with curved marble legs sits in front of it. I touch the jagged, etched sides of the table thinking it would be rough, but it is smooth to the touch.

  Dawson, engrossed with something on his tie, emerges from the bedroom, almost knocking me down. “Oh sorry, Marvy! Didn’t know you were here yet,” he flusters, catching me. “You look nice. I’m just finishing up with the cameras. Here, let me show you where they are.”

  A reassuring hand is at the small of my back with Xander close in tow, but does little to provide comfort. My step is pensive as I follow Dawson around the suite taking mental notes to where he’s pointing. Within the potted plants, clocks, under lamps and decorative brick-a-brack, the cameras and mics are nearly invisible. Had it not been for the tour, I wouldn’t have suspected the room was bugged. When he’s done, he gives me a gimpy smile. “See, you’ll have eyes on you at all times.” His lack of conviction provides no comfort let alone, settle my nerves.

  “I’m glad you’re here, Rush. The plan was for Seviride to witness a big fight between Marvy and some guy to get his attention, but you two fighting is even better.”

  With a half-frown and a raised eyebrow, he gages, “He really doesn’t like you very much. Most likely, he still wants Marvy, so he’ll take advantage and try to ‘console’ her.” Dawson shoves his hands in his trouser pockets. Tentatively, he flips his eyes, catching mine and continues, “That’s when you…uh…well, you know, um…work your magic to get him to the room.”

  Awkwardly, he hands me the silver pill box. “Here are the sedatives. Give him two, he’s much bigger than Supak. Once he starts to drift off, ask him where the meeting will be and when. Easy peasy!” As if this is an unrefuted statement, he claps his hands, rubbing them vigorously. “Now, let’s get you mic’d up.”

  He shifts his weight to his right leg with his hand cupping his scruffy chin, scratching his head. “Ummm…I don’t know where we’re gonna put this so it’s not seen,” he analyzes, deliberating different places for the mic battery pack on my tight red dress.

  It’s one of my favorites besides the crimson, high-neck, beaded one that was ruined. From the front, it looks like an elegant full-length red, cocktail dress that touches my ankles. The thick sequined shoulder straps go down my shoulder blades, meeting the front of the dress under my arms.

  Dawson moves the microphone pack cautiously around the snug red fabric, his face flushing bright pink. The front is really just a strip of red silk fabric hugging my body by the sequin shoulder straps and a sequined chevron band that graces a few inches below my spine. The slit up the side is invisible unless I’m walking or sitting. The dress falls to the side exposing my upper thigh when I sit on the loveseat and cross my legs. All three men gape stupefied when I do. Xander turns away with an excuse of wanting a drink. Dawson drops the microphone pack and drool is staining Pulson’s wretched paisley tie. My crimson strapped heels with metallic silver stilettos are just an embellishment to the dress. The deeper red draws awareness to my feet so one’s eyes cannot help but travel up my legs.

  Usually I feed off of this kind of attention, but in the immediate, I feel naked. My stomach churns and I close the view with my arms. Shifting my knees to the side so my legs are less visible, I want to get into something less reveling, especially with the sickly way Detective Pulson is watching me. “Maybe I should change?”

  “No that dress is perfect to hold his interest. I just have to figure out where to put this so the pack doesn’t show. Hmmm…,” Dawson taps his finger on his upper lip. “Let’s go to the tech room and see if the guys can figure something out.”

  The room across the hall is identical except for the five large men we meet, and the two sitting at computers. Dawson intros, but the names don’t stick except for a messy haired guy sitting in front of a computer screen. The guy, Toby, waves his hand and has an adorably innocent smile.

  Looking at the make-shift desk, I chuckle. Trista would have a fit over this mess!

  Dawson scratches his head. “So boys, what do you think?”

  The two techs make me turn in circles and they try placing the mic wi
thout being inappropriate. I feel stupid with my arms lifted in a ‘T’ fashion as the two men work on placement. Unless they shove it up my ass or in my cootch, there’s no way the pack won’t show. Every time they come close to my boob or the crack of my ass, the creeper Pulson somehow makes his way closer. As a distraction, I watch the monitors behind them and see the club entrance, the VIP Lounge with a direct close up of Bryson’s table, Volta la Terrea, and the suite across the hall. “Why are you monitoring Volta?”

  “He owns it,” one of the men answers.

  Then it hits me. “Oh, that’s why they were kissing his ass that night!” I scan the other monitors and watch the wannabe clubbers wait in line as the valet guys hop around like rabbits. “It looks like it’s getting busy.”

  My gaze freezes along with the rest of my movements. The VIP Lounge monitor shows two men slipping into a booth. The last breath I sucked in becomes trapped in my lungs. My throat ceases to function and tears begin to bead up. An explosion of heartbeats, deafen all sound. My heart bangs painfully against my ribs and my stomach rolls. I release the breath, but can’t catch it and I gasp for more. My lips are caught between my teeth to stay their quiver, but I can do nothing to stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. I shoot an anxiety filled plea to Xander whose brow furrows.

  “Hey! Stand still,” balks one of the tech guys.

  My distress screams from my pores and Xander follows my line of sight. Bryson is with Supak in the VIP booth. Without blinking, another tear falls.

  My chest burns from the deprivation of oxygen. Gulping for air, I break away from the tech guys. Panic rips through me, quickening my breath, but it’s a precocious fucker. The rise and fall of my chest is constricted in this dress. I put my hands down to my stomach doubling over to aid my desperate attempt. “I can’t do this. I can’t fucking do it,” I pant, unable to control my fear.

  I sway and both Xander and Dawson rush over before I hit the floor. I barely feel my legs beneath me.