by Alisa Mullen
Which question should I answer first? I placed my fingers into my eye sockets and crossed my legs. I had just exposed myself more than I ever had in my entire life and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.
“They are black.”
“And?” he prompted.
“I don’t want to talk about her and really, you don’t want to know. She’s my problem and by the time I finish telling you the long drawn out story, you’ll probably ask me to leave because you’ll think I am a freak of nature.” There wasn’t even a hint of amusement in my voice. Grace had rocked my world since I was twelve and every few years since. Sometimes I expected her to show up in some way, but she didn’t. Other times, when I felt like I was doing the right thing, being the nice person she told me I would be, her presence was stronger and nearly assaulting.
“Emily. That Ouija board is in my possession, not yours. I’ve had that thing for a while and it wasn’t because of you,” Johnny comforted me. Did Grace know that I would eventually come to find the board again? Johnny must have had something to do with her in some way and I hadn’t thought of that until now. Had Jules gone through the Grace induced experiences like I had? Did Johnny know how to make her stop?
“Emily? Are you there?” Johnny sounded irritated.
“Yes, Johnny. I’m so sorry. I just got carried away with some memories. What can I do for you? I cleaned up your place and got a little food. I found some old, stale mushrooms in the back of one of your cupboards and put them into a tomato sauce for spaghetti. What a really weird place to put those,” I commented, hoping I hadn’t just insulted his cleanliness. He had to know that he was a bit of a slob.
Again, Johnny used silence as a weapon to make me squirm. He was this gorgeous rock God with pretty tattoos. He had an unbelievable life with no worries, not counting his apparent unrequited love for Julia, and here I was, telling him that he didn’t know how to store produce properly. Go away, Stepford woman. I could rock and be worry free, too.
“So you said you were coming home late, right? Should I leave it out for you?” I asked into the dead air of the phone.
Low grumbles of curse words were preceded by his throat clearing.
“Emily? Those mushrooms aren’t real mushrooms. I mean, yeah, they’re real but they’re hallucinogenic mushrooms. I was storing them in the cupboard because I didn’t want to lose them the next time I tripped out. So… unless you want to see fantastic colors and feel just as amazing, I would suggest ordering pizza.”
I was silent then. I didn’t know what to say. I looked over at the spaghetti sauce on the stove, heat rising from its simmering state.
“So, if I ate some of that on my noodles, I would trip,” I stated.
“Yeah,” he blew out a breath, almost like he had been holding it as he waited for my response.
“Do people, you know, trip alone?” I asked, feeling all shades of stupid.
“Uh – sure but it is better to have someone with you that’s done it before. It can get pretty intense a few hours into it.”
I coughed. “A few hours?” Jesus, how long did they last? Did I just swear in my head? Wow, I was starting to act a little like a rock star. I smiled at myself and wiggled my butt a little. I pointed at the Ouija board and thought, Back off, bitch.
This new turn of events called for a shower, a baseball hat, and something paisley to wear.
Chapter Thirteen
Johnny
All I could think was if Emily ate any of the spaghetti. For three anxious hours, I picked up my cell and wanted to call. If she was tripping, she wouldn’t answer but then she might. What would I ask? “Hey Emily, you seeing shit yet?” That endless loop of a daydream took up all my head space on the drive back to New York. Of course, I fantasized about her lips twisting around a heaping fork of noodles. Did she slurp the sauce? No, she was too proper for slurping. Did she take a big spoon and start eating the sauce by itself? I would have, had I been there.
And why the fuck weren’t we there yet? I was so God damn antsy to get off this bus and back to my apartment. My guest, Emily was waiting for me. It felt like she had been when we talked.
An hour later, I was standing outside my brownstone in Manhattan, looking up at the windows on the 4th floor. There was a small light on and I saw rapid movement through the shadows of the light. Emily was either throwing herself around in a drug induced spasm or she was dancing. I didn’t hear music but that didn’t mean she didn’t have headphones on.
I met the open elevator and my packed duffle bag of dirty laundry was thrown on the floor right before I smacked the fourth floor button. I was nervous - really fucking nervous. My palms were sweaty and I knew I smelled like ass from being on the bus. As I approached my door, I blew out a few deep breaths and put on a smile. It wasn’t genuine but I didn’t want to scare her away if she was, in fact, high on drugs. Some people got pretty paranoid on that shit.
What I did not expect was to see a woman with short and orange hair vacuuming my living room while she talked to herself. I dropped my duffle and was so stunned at the difference of the Emily I had left and the one that was in front of me now. She didn’t hear the door close, rather loudly, as she continued to vacuum and animatedly talk to herself. What the hell was she wearing? It looked like old grandmother pajamas. I looked down at my worn by design jeans and Love Sick Ponies hoodie. I had a tan beanie on to make sure that people didn’t notice me when I was being carted from limo to bus to limo. I usually sported a pair of sunglasses but it was night time. That was too much.
I walked into the kitchen and Emily still hadn’t noticed that I was there. I opened the refrigerator to find it fully stocked with beer and food. I almost shit my pants. I had never seen that much normal food in my house since I lived in my house – with my mom.
There, on the top shelf, was a big silver pan of spaghetti, covered in Saran Wrap. A large Post-It note said, “Do not eat.”
So why had she kept the concoction? I pulled out a bottle of wheat ale and stood up straight to see that Emily had stopped vacuuming, but was standing still with the thing still on, staring at me in shock.
I waved and smiled a little. She did nothing. I smiled brighter and waved a little wider. That did the trick and she shook out of her haze long enough to turn the machine off.
“Hi, Emily,” I said with genuine pleasure.
“Hi, Mr. Rock Star,” she answered. “You look…um…you look really nice.”
I looked back down at my clothes again and took my beanie off, letting my wild blond hair breathe.
I heard her audibly gasp at my action. She was attracted to me. I suppose that shouldn’t have surprised me but she was clearly going through a life altering time currently. I dismissed fucking her against the wall and focused on her small grin. After the very odd reunion between me and Emily, I honestly couldn’t think of anything to say because her orange hair and ridiculous clothes were too fucking distracting. What the fuck was she thinking?
I opened the fridge and popped another bottle of wheat ale out and placed it on the kitchen table, motioning for her to come join me. Her proper manners were still there, in the way that she waited for me to pull out her chair and politely put a napkin under our beers so the condensation didn’t ruin the wood. Yet she tried to cover her true self with a poor attempt at a Halloween homeless woman costume. We kept our eyes on one another while we each took a turn sipping our beers. It was the oddest interaction I had ever had with a woman in my entire life and I didn’t want to be anywhere but right there. She was a force of something. She was so confused and skittish but held her head up high because she had been trained to. It was all so fascinating.
“Did you eat the spaghetti?” I asked finally.
She shook her head and winced as she took another sip of the beer.
“Because you didn’t want to trip?”
“I’ve never eaten mushrooms before. I didn’t think it would be a good idea. That and they did cost money so I wrapped it all up and h
opefully, I didn’t ruin them. I looked it up on the internet for an hour today and I think they’ll still be okay for you to eat but unfortunately the sauce is going to go bad unless I freeze the container all together but then…” I cut her off by placing my cold hand over her very warm one. Her hand was so small and silky. She was small, silky, and such a chatty Cathy.
“It’s okay, sweetheart. You didn’t know. If you would like to eat them, I would love to trip with you. It is more fun with another person and I promise nothing bad will happen. If not, we can toss them.” I shrugged. I didn’t care about the money. Didn’t she know how much money I made?
Yes, my brownstone was a one bedroom but that was because I was hardly here. Jules and I had talked about a house but I loved the city. I could upgrade to a better place anywhere I wanted but I liked the normal feeling. I wanted to be a regular guy some days and this place sort of kept up with that façade.
Of course, no one needed to know that my bodyguard, Beck, lived on the first floor and had the whole apartment building on video surveillance. It was my only stipulation when I bought our two apartments. The other tenants were told through the association but as long as the video didn’t actually scan into their apartments, they were actually grateful for the added security.
“So you look different,” I pointed out, as I took a hefty swill off my beer only to realize that I needed another. Fuck. She looked at me blankly. I did a little circular twirl with my finger over my head and then around my chest area. “Hair? The new outfit? Is this about your husband? Are you going through something because of the separation?”
“Divorce,” she snapped out. “We are getting a divorce.” She didn’t seem very interested in my hotness anymore.
“So, is that what happens to you when you get a divorce?”
“Let’s see. Is this what divorce did to me? Maybe,” she slapped her hand down on the table and laughed hollowly. “Hey why not? Divorce did this to me,” she said as she twirled her fingers all around. “I threw away all my high priced, pretentious clothing, cut and dyed my hair orange, and now I only wear sleep wear with paisley on them.”
There was complete silence as we stared each other down – each of us for very different reasons. She wanted a fight, probably because she had been alone and hell - she had been talking to herself. I was staring at her because that was the first time she actually spoke like a normal human being and not the nice and proper girl she was supposed to be. I averted my eyes and stood.
She let out a big exhale and started to apologize. Instinctually, I leaned down and firmly kissed those beautiful lips. She was gorgeous, orange hair or not. She whimpered a little when I caught her apology with my lips. I drew away and straightened my body. I smiled at Emily, the real Emily.
“Want another beer?” I asked. Her small, silky fingers covered her chatty Cathy lips as she nodded at me.
I chuckled all the way as I prepared for a real night with the real Emily McDonald.
Chapter Fourteen
Emily
Johnny Lennox kissed me and I didn’t care that he did it to shut me up. He placed those beautiful lips onto mine and my, oh my, I was reborn. Well, I was a little girl with the giggles. I had to stifle them as he casually moved about the kitchen, retrieving more beers. I snapped out of my lust image of him on top of me and jumped up.
“Oh, goodness. Let me get that for you. You just got home. It’s so late. You must be hungry and tired. I made a casserole after we spoke and that’s simmering in the oven. Are those your clothes to clean? Do you need them done right away?” I felt like a piece of shit. He had served me and I got misguided by his obvious dislike of my appearance and that kiss. Wow…that kiss.
“Emily. Stop,” he firmly stated as he put his hands around my flailing body, trying to move around to get him the casserole, the beers, and starting to dive into his bag.
“Stop what, Johnny?” I looked at him perplexed. He had to be hungry. He must have very little to wear after a tour that long and he sort of smelled like feet and cheap beer. I tried not to wince when I caught a whiff of his shirt, no matter how beautiful he looked in it – it reeked of a rock star tour.
“You’re my guest, sweetheart. You don’t do anything special for me. I see you cleaned. Don’t do that. I have a maid come in on Sunday afternoons. You cooked. Don’t do that. I want to take you to some of the best restaurants in New York City. Lastly, you will never touch my dirty laundry unless there’s a fire and it’s the only thing you have to throw on before you escape the flames.”
His smile broke across his face and it was brilliant. His messed up hair, his tired eyes, and his smooth voice all made me want to melt. If he kept looking at me like that, my stomach would eventually give out and I would vomit.
“I just want to pull my weight around here. You aren’t charging me rent and I promise I will leave just as soon as I can. I applied for a job this week and I’m hoping they call on Monday.”
Johnny’s smile stayed firm on his face and may have even grown a little brighter if I did say so myself.
“Really? What’s the job? That’s fantastic news,” he confirmed as his arms tightened even more around my waist.
“Oh you know, it’s silly, really. That convenience store on the corner? They’re hiring for the night shift and since they will accept a high school diploma, and no experience, I think I’ll get it. Can you believe it will be my first job in nearly fifteen years? I don’t even remember what a paycheck looks like,” I laughed.
I tried to wiggle myself away a little from Johnny. His holding me was so foreign to me and I felt awkward. Yes, Michael was the ‘Douche Face of the Millennium’ and our marriage didn’t mean anything, but the sudden closeness between Johnny and I didn’t seem morally right. Until the divorce was finalized, I would stay true to the vows I had made. Keep my side of the street clean, green and all that.
Maybe Johnny would still want to kiss and hold me then – whenever that was going to happen. Maybe not, but boy, did he give me hope that one day a man would want to do those things. It had been so long since Michael looked at me with lust in his eyes. In fact, the man never lusted after me. Not once. Had I been too proper in bed? Should I have done more to spice up our sex life? From some of the photos of Jules on Johnny’s wall, it looked like he liked black lingerie and thongs. I made a mental note to buy those things the day my divorce went through.
“The twenty four hour store at the corner? You applied there?” he asked pretentiously.
I nodded my head with excitement. Johnny pulled his arms away, noticing that I had tried to retreat and scrubbed his hands over his face with a groan.
“Emily,” he started as he leaned his hip on the side of the kitchen counter. “I absolutely am so damn proud that you landed a job but sweetheart, there’s no way in fucking hell that you will work at that store. As long as you live under this roof, you will not work for minimum wage, anywhere.”
For a moment, if I closed my eyes and forgot where I was, I could imagine it was Michael scolding me for not having the casserole warm enough for dinner time. My back went up and Johnny noticed instantly.
“Listen, even if you did accept that job, you would never find an apartment with that little income. You have to find something that pays more.” He was back pedaling and even though I had despised the tone of voice he used only a few moments ago, I also knew he was a friend who was right. He didn’t want to keep me from working. He just wanted me to make enough to live on my own. Johnny was a nice guy. He hadn’t cared about the casserole or the laundry. He wanted me to be happy and comfortable. It was all too nice.
“What if I can’t find something? I don’t have a college degree. I only know how to keep a home,” I quivered a little as I pushed those embarrassing words out of my mouth.
“If you can’t find something right away, let me see if there’s something you can do on tour. We always need extra hands with cleaning up and organizing. We don’t leave again for a few days, but sweetheart
- I don’t want you to worry about leaving. I love having you here. Shit, you keep this place so clean and… I like you, Emily. I really like you,” he said as he smoothed his hands over my hair. It felt so nice.
“But you don’t like the hair, do you?” I winced as I asked him.
“Do you like your new hair?” His amused look was so adorable.
I grimaced and shook my hair. “I hate it,” I croaked out and then I felt awful for even being there. What had I done? I left my husband? Applied to a corner store? Chopped off my hair and dyed it orange? I was living with a rock star and the only time I had felt like myself was when I was dusting his awards and the wood furniture.
A big tear fell from my eyes and I gasped at the fact that I was now crying in front of my host. How very rude of me. I tried to excuse myself to go crawl into a corner, but Johnny pulled me back into his arms and hugged me with every part of his body. He was rock solid and felt so good.
“I have a great hairdresser. Whenever you’re ready, we can get an appointment and he will fix it for you. I promise. And as much as I love my grandmother, paisley doesn’t suit that sexy body of yours. We don’t have to do pretentious but let’s at least do cool casual. Does that sound okay?” he asked into my hair as he moved his hand up and down my back.
Another fat tear fell from my eye and I melted into him. “That sounds very nice, Johnny. Thank you for being here. I really like you, as well. I might like you a little too much right now.”
Johnny pulled back and searched my eyes. My head fell and I felt so silly – again.
“I’m so lonely and you’re being so darn sweet. I don’t have any friends… obviously. Why would I search for a childhood friend that I lost touch with in junior high if I did? It was so stupid.” I was clearly acting like a child but I didn’t care. I needed a bigger pity party. Johnny might help with that.
“You know what, Emily?” he asked abruptly. I lifted my head to find that grin on his face once again. It was contagious. I smiled back and cocked my head to the side in question.