by Sarah Noffke
“I’m Dahlia,” I said in a mocking tone.
She laughed. It was hard to believe I’d just met this girl. It didn’t feel like it. Actually it felt all wrong, like I’d always known her and her me. I was too comfortable with her and she was absolutely right, I didn’t want whatever this was, but I needed it. And that boiled my insides with anger. I had never needed anything.
“Are you coming?” Dahlia said, staring back at me. She’d already exited the lift and was holding the door open for me. I didn’t meet her eyes as I stalked past her.
“You’re doing that brooding thing again,” she said, hurrying her footsteps to catch up with me. “Were you just thinking about how much you don’t want to like me, but can’t resist?”
I spun around and shot her a fuming look. “If I find out that you’re a telepathic Dream Traveler who’s been lying to me then you better move off the grid because I’m coming after you with vengeance.”
“So I’m right, aren’t I? That was what you were thinking,” she said with a triumphant smile. “And what happens when you realize that I’m not and I’m just this connected to you?” she said, watching for my reaction. When I didn’t give her one she plucked my keys out of my hand and trotted off to my flat. She pulled off the cap as she walked and let down her hair with a shake of her head.
Damn, this woman is going to be the death of me, I thought as I stalked after her.
Her guards stayed stationed outside my flat when we entered. I took my keys back from Dahlia and dutifully hooked them on the wall. When I turned around she had peeled off the enormous sweatshirt she’d been wearing and smoothed down her lavender dress. We stood staring at each other for a long few seconds.
“Come here,” she said and I finally knew what it was like to be one of my mind-controlled victims. I felt forced to move forward. I couldn’t resist her command and I also didn’t want to. I halted when I was right up against her. The fabric of her dress bristled against my shirt.
She brushed her hand against my clean-shaven face. “How does it feel not to hear thoughts right now?”
And I decided to be honest since there didn’t seem to be any way to hide anything from this girl. “Like a gift,” I said.
She took her other hand and slipped it around my neck. The experience was so surreal. I’d never been this close to someone without having forced them.
Everything about that moment was so freeing. I didn’t dare move. I was frozen under the realization that Dahlia was touching me because she wanted to. Then she stood up on her tiptoes and paused a breath away from my mouth, regarding me with wide open eyes. She tilted her head and pressed her mouth against mine. Her lips brushed my lips gently, but only once before I unleashed a kiss bursting with a desire I was tired of smothering. She pushed back into me with a heavy passion. Her hands found the button to my suit jacket, undoing it. Our mouths still locked on each other’s, she slipped her hands under my jacket and began exploring. I was leaning over her when I felt her step back from my force. Steadying her with one hand around her waist I then locked my fingers into her hair and gently tugged. A satisfied groan escaped her lips. My mouth started a fervent path along her jawline.
“Do you want to know what I’m thinking right now, Ren?” she said through heavy breaths.
“No,” I said, trailing kisses under her ear, down her slender neck. “I think I already know.”
“It might actually make you blush though,” she said, leaning back, inviting me to continue exploring her with my mouth.
“I’ve heard it all, luv,” I said, rising up tall and regarding her under hooded eyes.
Dahlia slid her hands up my chest and wrapped them around my neck. “You haven’t heard this because you can’t read my thoughts.”
“Then please, do tell,” I said, my mouth only an inch from hers.
“I was just thinking that without hearing my thoughts you’re still giving me exactly what I want and how I want it,” she said.
I didn’t blush. But her words did send a rush of heat through my stomach. Without a single warning I whipped her off her feet, cradling her in my arms. A surprised gasp escaped her mouth, but then she grabbed my face and her lips were on mine, demanding and spilling with a frenzied passion. I kissed her with my eyes wide open as I marched us both across the flat and straight into my bedroom. My lips didn’t disconnect from hers until I laid her down in my bed, a deliciously heated look in her eyes.
Chapter Thirteen
November 1996
Being with Dahlia was harder than I would have expected. It should have been a luxury. She traveled incessantly and was always busy. We hardly ever saw each other. Only on rare nights could we spend more than a few hours together. And this was precisely the unbelievable reason it was difficult. I missed her. Wanted to see her more times than I was granted. Most times I could dream travel to one of her nearby locations and generate my body using a GAD-C, but even then some travel was involved for me. And since my “work” was flexible I could have stuck by her side as she asked numerous times and given up my place in London. But that was never going to happen. I wasn’t going to be a touring diva’s boy toy. I had my own life and my own ways of doing things and I wasn’t giving that up for anyone. Even for someone I actually cared about, for the very first time ever.
We settled for the evenings when I’d travel to Los Angeles, where she spent most of her time. I’d shack up with her until she had to depart. I’d then join her in New York or Hong Kong or Morocco. It was exhausting and it was also absolutely worth it. I couldn’t stop touching her. Even after I’d committed myself to her for a whole year, my fingers were magnets to her skin. Before Dahlia I’d never experienced the freeing feeling of touching someone without being pressured by their thoughts. It was such a treat. And her skin seemed to simmer under my touch, like it also had a freeing effect on her.
“Do you wish you could read my thoughts?” she said to me one autumn evening, a full year after we’d met.
“Not even a little bit,” I said with an unhampered smile. Of all the thoughts I could read, hers probably wouldn’t make me barf. Dahlia wanted fame, riches, and me. And she had it all. She didn’t want to bodge up her life with breeding. Like me, she thought kids were repulsive but she didn’t mind taking their money, or their parents’ money, as it were. Dahlia was perfectly selfish and smart. And her affection was all I wanted, well besides my own loads of riches.
On a rare occasion, Dahlia had a show in London and had blocked off a few extra days to spend with me. She wanted to see some sights around London but I convinced her they were all tourist traps and that we should just lock ourselves in my flat.
“The Tower of London is a tourist trap? It’s like a thousand years old,” Dahlia said. Her head was resting on my stomach and we were laid out on the rug in front of the fire.
“It’s crawling with snotty Europeans and uptight Americans who will constantly stop you to ask you to take their picture. I promise it’s not worth the dreadful effort,” I said, combing my fingers through her silky hair.
“You know I’m not a Dream Traveler who’s had the opportunity to see the world without crowds. I have to see things like a lowly Middling and sometimes I even have to wait in a line or two,” Dahlia said.
I shivered with disgust at the idea. “You’re Dahlia. If you really want something you can have your people do stuff. Hell, you could probably make a few calls and have St. Paul’s Cathedral shut down for a private tour.”
She turned over suddenly, propping herself up on my chest, a jazzed look in her eyes. “That’s a great idea. If I do it, will you go with me?”
I regarded her like she was a sad, naive orphan. “Oh no, dear Dahlia. I’m not allowed in holy places. They make my flesh burn. I literally have a reaction. I think it’s God’s way of telling me I’m going to hell.”
She lifted herself and climbed onto me, leaning down so she was looking directly at me from above. “Well, I’m going with you. It’s going to be more f
un there anyway,” Dahlia said.
I smiled up at her. “Yes, we’ll harass the hell out of the sinners down there.”
Still straddling me, she moved in closer. “Well, you don’t have to go on tourist treks with me, but you are going to escort me to the Grammys.”
“We’ve been through this and no, I’m bloody not. Get one of those guys from Front Street Boys to take you,” I said.
She burst out laughing. “They’re called Backstreet Boys.”
“Whatever,” I said, pinning my hands on her hips, hinging her in place.
“Please, Ren,” she said with a pout.
“You just want me to go so I can make Madonna grab someone’s boob on stage,” I said.
Dahlia hopped a little on my abdomen, knocking the air out of me. She gave me a mischievous grin when I coughed out an irritated breath.
“Hey, why’d you do that?” I said.
“You know I’m not with you because you can entertain me with your gifts, right?” she said.
“Oh no?” I said, rolling over suddenly, throwing her on her back and taking up the spot she just had on top of me. I pinned her hands beside her. “Well, are you with me because I’m a recluse who steals money from innocent people?”
She fought my restraints with a giggle. “Is that why you won’t go with me to the Grammys? Are you afraid people will ask questions and dig into your nonexistent past?”
We had been very careful to keep my interactions with Dahlia as secret as possible. The last thing I needed was a bunch of paparazzi snooping around and figuring out I was a millionaire without a job to speak of. I’d been able to create a full persona to fool the Crown, but if a hungry reporter got motivated they’d grow suspicious. I had zero collegiate experience, had never held a single job, and yet I had a portfolio to put Donald Trump to shame.
“That’s part of the reason and also because of the whole people make me sick thing,” I finally said. “I don’t think I could stand a bunch of cameras in my face.”
“Well, have you ever thought of a profession?” Dahlia asked, looking up at me. “You know I’ll love you no matter what. Criminal or not.”
I looked away at the use of that word. Love. Dahlia often confessed her love for me but I’d never returned the sentiment. Wasn’t sure how to.
“I don’t know. Sometimes I get bored scamming but it’s so easy,” I said.
“What do you think you’d like to do if you could?” she asked, angling her knee in a curious place.
I smiled as I thought for a minute. “I’d stop people like me. It’s the only thing I think that would actually offer a real challenge.”
Her face lit up. “I can just see it. Bad guy turns good guy because he knows all their tricks,” she said in an announcer-type voice.
“Yeah, but I’d still have to do naughty things on the side. I couldn’t stand being a goody-goody,” I said.
“Well, and I definitely don’t want a superhero boyfriend,” Dahlia said.
I leaned in and growled against her throat. “Oh, I know all too well that you like villains.”
Just then the phone rang. I ignored it as I always did, but Dahlia turned her head to the phone on the table. “Aren’t you going to get that?”
“Does it look like I’m going to get that?” I said, nuzzling my nose against her neck.
“But what if it’s important?” she said, wiggling her hands out of mine and then twisting to the side.
“It’s not,” I said, a little put off by her moving away. I sat up a bit and looked at her. “It’s my pops. He calls every day and leaves numerous messages.”
She sat up fully, bucking me off her. “Why don’t you talk to him?”
I sat back on my knees, combing my hands through my hair. “He just wants to harass me about my choices. The last few times I spoke to my pops he couldn’t stop berating me about scamming for money,” I said.
The phone rang again. It was the third time.
“He might be calling for a different reason,” Dahlia said, standing. The phone went to the answering machine.
“What are you doing?” I asked her as she marched to the phone.
“I’m intervening,” she said.
The answering machine picked up.
“Why would you do that?” I asked, an angry edge in my voice.
“Because I sense I should,” she said as the beep to the machine sounded.
“Ren, this is your pops,” my father’s voice came over the machine. “I need to tal—”
Dahlia plucked the wireless phone off its cradle. “Ren Lewis’s phone,” she said, not looking at me. Probably knowing I was throwing an angry stare at her.
“Hi, Mr. Lewis,” she said after a moment and then paused.
“Yes, I’m a friend of Ren’s,” she said, daring to look at me and wink. “My name is Dahlia.”
She paused again, listening to my pops.
“Yes, I’ve totally heard her music,” she said with a guilty smile. “It’s great… ”
My pops had probably just said there was a famous vocalist by the same name. “Well, you probably want to talk to your son. He’s right here,” she said and handed me the phone.
I pressed my lips together and shot a scathing look at Dahlia as I ripped the phone from her hands. “Hello, Pops,” I said, whipping around and strolling to the window.
“Ren,” he said on the other side of the line. “I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for months.”
“I’ve been busy,” was all I said. I braced myself for his questions and critiques. Ever since I moved to London he’d been on my case about my choice of work. He apparently thought my scams were okay before I came of age but now that I was a man I needed to grow up.
“Ren, I was going to drive up there to see you soon if I couldn’t get ahold of you,” he said, a breathlessness in his voice.
“Pops, you do realize you’re a Dream Traveler and can just dream travel to the GAD-C in London and generate your body, right?” I said.
“Sure, but that’s not the point. Ren, I’ve been trying to contact you for all these months because you need to come home.”
I turned and looked at Dahlia. She was watching me, a concerned expression on her face.
“Why, Pops? What is it?”
“It’s your mum. She has cancer. She’s dying, son.”
And again I dropped the receiver. But I didn’t crush it like I did when I heard about Jimmy. I simply walked to the front door and left that very same minute.
Chapter Fourteen
Dahlia had naturally chased after me. I gave her a few clipped explanations and then left her in London. I arrived at my old home in Peavey just before nightfall.
“Why isn’t she in a hospital?” I said to my father when he told me my mum was in her bedroom waiting to see me.
“She doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore,” Pops said. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “The doctors say she doesn’t have long and she wanted to be here. She’d been in the hospital for a long time. It’s not been a comfortable place for her and now that they can’t do anything else she wants to die at home.”
I slammed my fist into the wall. It stuck through the old plaster. My father just watched as I wrestled my hand back through the crumbling wall. He probably thought I was angry that my mum was dying. I was, but I was livid that I’d ignored his calls for all those months. “You should have tried harder to get ahold of me. I should have been with her,” I said, my words fuming.
“I did try, son,” he said, staring at the hole in the wall. A reminder of my blinding anger.
“You could have left a more detailed message on my machine.”
He shrugged. “It didn’t feel right and honestly she didn’t want you to know. She didn’t want to worry you at first. She thought she could beat it.”
I shook my head at my dad. “And how do you know she can’t!” I screamed.
“We’ve tried everything. The cancer has taken over,” Pops said, every wo
rd seeming to pain him to say.
“Why does it sound like you’re giving up?” I said through clenched teeth.
“Ren, she’s been through so much. So much pain,” he said, shaking his head. “Your mum doesn’t want to be put through any more.”
“Then we have to save her,” I said with conviction. “I’ll find a healer.” A Dream Traveler with the gift of healing had saved me when I was born. If I couldn’t find that person then I’d find another healer.
“It won’t work,” Pops said, shaking his head, undeniable defeat in his eyes. “They can’t help her. The cancer is too far spread. Healers’ powers don’t work on cancer. Not like this. I’ve already tried.”
Of course I should have realized Pops would have tried everything. He would never easily give up on Mum.
Cancer was a damn Middling disease. I fucking hate cancer. What a bloody prejudiced disease. It attacked Middlings by the millions, but didn’t exist for Dream Travelers. That was unfair. I knew some Dream Travelers who needed to shake hands with cancer.
“It’s worth trying again,” I said, convinced we could fight this. “Call a different healer. I’ll find the very best. How long do we have?” My words were irate, coming out in rapid succession.
Pops shook his head as I spoke. “No, Ren. It won’t work. Healers can’t save her. Nothing can.”
“Then what’s the fucking point?! What’s the point of any of this? What’s the point of having powers if we can’t use them? What’s the fucking point of having one another if we’re just going to allow each other to die when the time comes?” Spit flew out of my mouth, hot from the anger boiling my blood.
“I understand you aren’t used to not having control, son. But you can’t control this situation. Your mum is going to die. There’s nothing to be done about it.”
***
I hadn’t been back home in several years, too consumed with my wild antics and selfish ways. When I pushed Mum’s bedroom door back I almost didn’t recognize her as she lay in bed. Her red hair had grayed and dulled considerably. She was bone thin. Her face sunken in like she’d aged twenty years in the last three.