Please, Pretty Lights (Pretty Lights Series Book 1)

by Ina Zajac

  ***

  MATT

  MATT FELT HER SHUDDER beneath him and finally let himself go. He always tried to hold on for her. It wasn’t easy, but he wanted to satisfy her more than anything. He pulled her in even closer and bestowed kisses behind her ear. He nibbled his way down her jawline, back toward her lips. He just couldn’t stop kissing her. He loved her. The words welled up inside his throat, but died there. She must know anyway, he told himself. How could she not? It was brightly woven into every “You’re pretty.”

  He realized she must not be comfortable, so he pulled away and looked down. Her dark hair looked wild, spread out against the yellow countertop. Her skin was flushed and peachy. He searched her face for that look of primal satisfaction he wanted to see, a sort of I’ve-been-well-fucked-thank-you expression. He recognized it and felt a particular kind of high no drug could ever match. He was about to pick her up and take her upstairs for a hot shower and a nap when he heard the TV in the living room switch on, and then what sounded like Sesame Street.

  His Isoldey’s eyes widened. While she looked alarmed, he only smiled. Nick probably didn’t even know they were there—and if so, oh well. While she scrambled to find clothes, he simply pulled up his boxers and walked out to the living room.

  “Morning, bro,” he said, and sat at the other end of the couch. His cheeks felt like they’d been injected with helium. He hadn’t planned it. She had just looked so damned good, standing there next to the kitchen island, drinking her apple juice. He had told her she was pretty and it was on.

  She came into the living room, but had her eyes set on the front door. She stopped and gave him a lame little kiss as she handed him his sweatshirt. “You’re going to freeze,” she whispered. “Hey, Nick,” she said, still looking at the door. “Gotta go, going to miss the ferry.”

  Matt stuck out his lower lip and offered up his saddest little-boy face. “You always say that. You know, we have a ferry schedule now, so you can’t bullshit me anymore.” He was only half joking. He hadn’t gotten enough of her apple juice kisses. He licked his lips.

  “See you Thursday,” she said. “I’ll stay all night, I promise.” He could see her face was still flushed and it reinforced his sense of excellence.

  “Sweet, like a Thanksgiving Day miracle,” he said. “Don’t forget, we’re leaving for Wesley Gardens at noon. It’s the early, early, early-bird dinner.”

  “Got it.”

  “And you’ll eat,” he yelled after her. She was getting too skinny.

  He watched her leave, pulled on his sweatshirt, and started replaying this latest sexcapade in his head. It’s not like they acted like porn stars—no rodeo moves or toys or spanking. Stunts and props weren’t necessary. There was something amazing about the way they moved together. Close and emotional. He knew he should be terrified about her hold on him, but it felt so good. He wanted to write about it, but how could he ever do her justice?

  Nick pointedly cleared his throat. “Hey, man. We have to talk.”

  He looked over, and started trying to explain, “Hey, sorry if you saw anything—”

  “Don’t worry, it’s cool.” Nick sat up, looking hella awkward. “But, we have to talk about your girl. She’s been doing a lot of blow.”

  His first reaction was to laugh. “So have I, so what? Dude, we fucking sell it.”

  He looked over to his friend and was surprised to see he wasn’t laughing or even smiling. Instead, he squished up his nose as though he smelled something rank and then came at him again. “Look, she’s been partying with Carlos. Did you know that?”

  He felt blindsided, like Nick had just coldcocked him in the head. “Who the hell told you that?”

  “She’s been hanging out with him in his office—alone.”

  Matt stood up, clenched his fists toward his sides and walked toward the window. “Nah, no way.” He was overcome with nausea at the thought of his girl being one of Carlos’s back-office coke skanks. Nick was wrong.

  “I’m not saying she’s done anything, but he’s working on her. You know he’s working on her. He’s getting her high. You know he’s talking shit about you.”

  “Whoa,” Matt said, turning back around. “Who? Who told you this?”

  Nick hesitated. “Kaytlyn.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Kaytlyn?” His throat cinched down tight and burned, like a sudden case of strep throat. He made himself swallow down through the pain.

  “I can’t believe you are coming at me with this shit,” he finally managed to say. He was dragged into a vision of Carlos and Via, naked on the kitchen island. No, no, he thought, but thinking it wasn’t enough. “No, no,” he mumbled. He tried hard to chase it from his mind.

  “I’m sorry,” Nick was backpedaling. “I didn’t want to freak you out, but—”

  Matt had no choice but to undo what was playing out in his mind. He bolted for the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator. He slammed the door but the photo of Matt, Via, and Nick held strong, secured by the Space Needle magnet. It was the only printed picture he had of her, from the day she’d helped with the tour of homes.

  Nick never lied. He always had his back. It was not like he was accusing her of doing anything except being naïve. He misted the island’s countertop with disinfectant. He took a big swig of beer, then he misted it again.

  Nick came into the kitchen, turned down the music, cleared his throat, and reengaged. This time, he sounded apologetic. “Maybe you forgot, but we’re family,” he said. “I’ve got to tell you what’s up. I don’t think she’s done anything; she’s into you—she loves you. That’s obvious.”

  Yes, Matt told himself, though she’d never actually told him so. He agreed that Carlos hadn’t touched her because he couldn’t bear to think otherwise. Wait, she was taken anyway. He kept forgetting that. It was hopeless. If she really loved him, she would have broken off her engagement by now. No, no, he thought again. It’s not hopeless, as long they remember how they had felt that day. When they had pretended everything was going to be okay.

  “We’ll quit,” Nick insisted. “We’ve got money saved. Not as much as we’d planned, but we’ll figure something out. We can’t afford to stay any longer. I’ve been telling all the girls it’s time to bail. Kaytlyn says Carlos is riding the crack pipe, hard.”

  “I’m in,” Matt agreed. “And we’re taking Via with us.” He was reinvigorated by both the smell of disinfectant wafting up from the countertop and the prospect of starting a new life. It wasn’t too late. But he was going to have to talk to Via. He needed to man up. If he was going to save her, he was going to have to save himself first.

  CHAPTER 27

  VIA

  VIA GOT OUT of Matt’s car and couldn’t believe how cold it was. It was a stunning, blue-skied, Seattle afternoon. He had insisted they stop on the way home from the Wesley Gardens Thanksgiving luncheon. He said he wanted to “blow the stink off.” He was in a bizarre mood, like he was nervous about something. She wondered if the combination of pumpkin pie and sparkling apple cider was making him loopy.

  “Where are the gloves I got you?” he asked as he zipped up his coat. “You lose those too? Woman, I’m not made of money.”

  She tossed him a flirty pout as they made their way toward the West Seattle boat launch.

  “Seriously, hope you don’t have expensive tastes,” he said. “If so, I’m not your guy.”

  “Because you’ve renounced all possessions on account of Eastern philosophy?”

  He and Grandma Daney had been talking about New Agey stuff at “linner,” which is what the guys were calling their two p.m. dinner. Apparently, there was some global “Great Awakening” going on.

  “Attachment to things brings stress, true,” he said. “Like G-Dane’s house. I love it, but that’s because it’s not mine to worry about.”

  He pulled off his gloves and gave them to her; then he pulled his black beanie down over his ears.

  “You look like a bank robber in that.”r />
  He looked quite serious. “This is a holdup,” he announced so loudly that an old guy walking by did a double take. “I’m here to steal your heart.” He pulled her in for a quick kiss.

  “I can’t decide if you’re the corniest guy on earth or the most romantic,” she told him.

  “Can’t I be both? I embrace your inner spaz, and outer.”

  Truth. She looked over and took in the crisp splendor of the Seattle skyline. In the distance, snowy peaks of the Cascade Mountains popped against the sky. What a gorgeous city, she thought as she scanned the scenery from left to right: the Space Needle, the skyscrapers of downtown, Century Link, Safeco Field, and the Starbucks headquarters in Sodo to the south. The snow of Mount Rainier held a faint blue tint.

  “Do you know how many car commercials they’ve filmed here?” he asked. “From this vantage point? Like fifty.”

  Her thoughts turned to Grandma Daney, such a wonderful woman. “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” she said.

  “I’m an Aries,” he said. His deadpan look was priceless.

  She ignored him. “Couldn’t you get one of those electric chairs for the staircase? Grandma Daney could come back home then, right?”

  “Yeah, we’ve talked about that,” he said. “We could build her a ramp for the stairs outside. The bathrooms would need to be modified. We could do it, but she’s not a fan of the idea.”

  “Why not?”

  “She says it’s because it’s too expensive. She’d have to have a private, live-in nurse, but I think it’s because she is getting to like Wesley Gardens.”

  True, Grandma Daney had seemed happy that day, but then again, she seemed happy every day. Just that day she had pulled Via aside and whispered, “Please yourself first, then everything else will fall into place.”

  “And Nick? All he ever talks about is playing the drums. What does he want?”

  “Other than a day at Disneyland with Dave Grohl?”

  “How do I even respond to that?”

  “What he really wants is to see the world, but in a nonmilitary kind of way. He wants the band on a West Coast tour next summer. Just six or eight shows, down to LA. From there—the moon.”

  “You don’t sound all that excited by the idea.”

  “If we tour or get some studio time, cool—I’m there. And I’m also good with just playing acoustic sets in coffee houses, running soundboards. And I like teaching kids,” he said. “Maybe I’ll go back to school part time. Shoreline Community College has a killer sound engineering program. I’ve been thinking about doing that.”

  She leaned into him. “You love that stuff. You should totally get into sound engineering.”

  “I don’t know, though. Probably wouldn’t be much money in my future.”

  She lost herself in her own laughter.

  “What?”

  “Nothing. It’s just...I’m not into materialism either.”

  He pulled her back over to their side of the walking path, away from the oncoming bicyclist. “Let’s go sit.” He led her over to a picnic table.

  “I thought we were walking.” She was cold enough as it was.

  “I need to talk to you about something,” he said. “We need to be able to look at each other.”

  She was taken aback, but did as he asked. As she sat down, she couldn’t help but wonder. He had been in such a weird mood. He couldn’t be breaking up with her, could he? Maybe she had mistaken fun-loving banter for nerves. She examined him again.

  “I’m one hundred percent done with cocaine,” he said with confidence. “And, I want you to be too.”

  Of course, she realized. He was absolutely right, but somehow his words made her want to close her eyes. He was illuminating something in her. Something ugly that she didn’t want anyone to discover. She looked down, waiting for him to go on. But he didn’t. She felt his chilled hand come in slowly under her chin.

  “Look at me,” he told her.

  She peered up into his eyes, dark yet bright. They had been waiting for her.

  “We’re cutting you off. We’re cutting ourselves off.”

  She knew there was nothing to say. His tone sounded urgent and utterly decisive. This wasn’t a negotiation. He wasn’t screwing around. He was in love with her, and she with him. How was this ever going to work out?

  Could he see how conflicted she was? She wanted to tell him that she had been fiending hard the day after binges, having chills. All she could think about was doing it again—not only because it felt good, and not only because it distracted her from the countdown. But because without it she was a sick, shaky mess. With Thanksgiving out of the way, there would soon be decorations, Christmas trees for sale. Breathe, she reminded herself, but it brought her little comfort. The frigid air she inhaled burned her lungs.

  She wanted to confess. Tell him that she was in too deep, that she couldn’t quit. Didn’t want to quit. But then he would know. He would want to send her off somewhere for treatment, and she just couldn’t do that. What was there to say? There had to be a way to defend herself, protect herself, deflect this somewhere else. She couldn’t quit yet. Her brain spun through the possibilities.

  “I need you to remember how we felt that day,” he said. “That day we fell in love.”

  Bingo. Of course, she would make it his fault.

  “That day we were high out of our minds?” She watched his steady expression crumble.

  “What are you saying? That it wasn’t real? That we can’t move past that?”

  “I think you’re a hypocrite,” she told him. “Cutting me off when you’re still selling it yourself.” She got up and started walking back toward the car. Sick with herself, she couldn’t look at him. This would have to be all on him. She couldn’t quit yet. He couldn’t cut her off yet.

  He followed her. “Really?” His sharp voice caught in the wind. “Did you really just say that to me? What do you expect me to do? Be a chump and let you lead the way when you obviously need to check yourself? We need to get away from that whole toxic scene.” He caught up to her and spun her around. “Look, Carlos is bad fucking news. I know he’s after you.” He looked like he had even more to say, but a woman with two dogs was passing by, looking concerned.

  She gave the woman an awkward smile, then looked down at Matt’s boots. “I think we’ve been spending too much time together. I need to go home and get some sleep. I need to think.”

  He stepped toward her and lowered his voice. “Don’t be like this.”

  She managed to look at him, really look at him. He exuded certainty and strength. He wasn’t some quirky musician anymore, some guy she partied with, some guy she loved. He stood there with the Seattle skyline perfectly situated behind him, seemingly oblivious to the wind gusting up all around them. He was a man, and he was taking control. Just when she desperately needed him to.

  “Look,” he held her gaze, “Nick and I were on our way out of this, before I met you. We had a plan, a Hotties exit plan. You’ve got to bail with us. You’ve got to see where you’re heading if you don’t. You see, right?”

  She hugged him. She couldn’t not hug him. He was warm and wonderful—too good for her. It’s like he saw something in her, something worthwhile that didn’t really exist. He needed her to take the leap with him, to fly across some chasm. God, she wanted to. But she would only weigh him down. She hated herself for being so weak. She could try to quit; she could try. But even as she considered it, she felt her impending failure. Carlos would be just a call away. She was craving coke this very minute, with this amazing man standing right in front of her. It was insane. She was insane. What was she going to do? She needed to think.

  “It’s freezing.” Her voice snapped into the wind. “Can we go?”

  “If you want.” He walked next to her, but left some distance. He didn’t reach for her hand.

  “You know, if this hasn’t been real for you, if you’ve just been pretending, this is when it will all fall apart, now that you’re cut off
.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “If you want to be with me, you have to break up with him,” he said. “Before he comes back. I’m not sharing you.”

  “Over the phone?”

  He just looked at her, like he knew there wasn’t an easy answer to be found.

  She took off his gloves and handed them back. “Here.”

  He took the gloves. “Does this mean something?”

  “They’re just gloves.”

  “Bullshit,” he mumbled as they got into the car. He turned on the ignition and cranked the radio. It was The Mighty Mighty Bosstones—inappropriately happy for the situation. She dialed it down and turned toward him.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m scared,” she said. “I want to quit. I’m going to quit, but maybe we can taper down, quit in January. We’ll start fresh in January.”

  The harsh expression he wore softened a little, but he shook his head. “I know this is hard, but we’ve got to do it. Our future selves will thank us for it. We’ll be happy, you’ll see.” He took her hands in his.

  He leaned in. It was a slow kiss. It still did that thing to her. She still got that jolt. That familiar, fundamental feeling of love that made her want to believe.

  “You really have to go back to Vashon tonight?” he asked. His lips still inches from hers.

  “Yes, I have a bunch of church stuff tomorrow and Saturday,” she lied. She needed time to think. “That SeaKidz holiday party is Sunday afternoon. I’ll come after that.”

  “I’ll be on the road Sunday, back Monday afternoon.”

  “Portland run?”

  “You got it, my last drug run ever,” he said. “Then I won’t be a hypocrite anymore.” He looked away.

  “I get scared when you go on your runs.” It was something she hadn’t even admitted to herself.

  He turned back toward her and just looked so damned victorious.

  “You worry about me?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I don’t know why it makes you smile like that.”

  “It’s cute that you worry, but don’t. I won’t get arrested. You’re lucky. You’re my lucky charm.” He was still smiling.