Exit Stage Six: A Contemporary New Adult Romance Novella

by A. J. Downey

  “I said I was sorry.” He said impatiently.

  “No you didn’t.” I frowned.

  “I didn’t?” he frowned too but not at me.

  “No, you said you had someplace you needed to be but you didn’t say you were sorry.” I closed some of the distance between us.

  “You a dancer?” he asked.

  “Why does everyone ask me that?” I asked. He looked away from me and to the ground.

  “The way you move. Graceful like a dancer, you’re built like one too.” He said and I blushed.

  “Oh. Thank you.” I said.

  “That wasn’t a compliment, just a statement of fact.” He said gruffly. I blinked and raised my camera. He put up his hand.

  “I said no pictures! Jesus Christ!”

  “Then stop being a jackass!” I said curtly and lowered my lens.

  He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then closed it again. I raised an eyebrow but when several heartbeats went by without him saying anything I shook my head let out a gusty sigh and turned back to the mask I had placed in a moss covered crook of the courtyard’s cherry tree.

  It was a Venetian masquerade half mask that covered the top half of the face. Laser cut from silver metal with rhinestones carefully set along the bridge of the nose and at the corners of the eyes and across the brows. I stepped around it trying to get the right shine of light for the shot.

  “I’m sorry.” He said finally.

  “If you’re sorry you’ll stop doing it.” I pointed out. He huffed out a breath.

  “Yeah, okay you’re right.” he said and I turned around and found him palming the back of his neck.

  “Evan are you all right?” I asked.

  “No. No I’m really not.” He said and closed his eyes. My attitude instantly cooled its heels.

  I stepped a pace or two closer.

  “Is there anything I can do?” I asked softly.

  “I was about to go grab something to eat. Go with me.” He said. I looked him over. I most definitely didn’t hear a question in there but what the Hell, why not?

  “You buying?”

  “Yeah I’ll buy.” We stood across from each other, each coolly assessing the other.

  “Let me finish this shot.” I said and he nodded. I hadn’t been asking either but meh.

  I got it lined up, wasn’t quite happy with the light still, but I was about to lose it so I snapped the picture, retrieved my mask and shoved it into my messenger bag which was acting as my purse.

  “Aren’t you afraid it’s going to get crushed?” he asked.

  “I work at A Masquerade, that trendy club over on the strip. I have like a million of them, they issue a different one every weekend as a part of the uniform. We get to keep them.” I lowered my camera and carefully stepped off the muddy grass and back onto the flagstone path.

  “What’re we eating?” I asked.

  “You like noodles?” he asked.

  “What like Pho?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah I do. I know a great place not far from here, want me to show you?” I asked.

  “Lead the way London.” He said and so I did.

  He fell into step beside me.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked after a block and a half of silence.

  “About what?” he asked.

  “About whatever is making you not okay.” I replied.

  “No.” he sounded resolute and so I did what anyone should do.

  “Well you know where I live if you ever do.” I sad softly.

  “Uh thanks.” He muttered as I stopped in front of the little Pho shop. I got the door for myself and held it for him and he ducked into the steamy little shop. He picked a table toward the back and sat with his back to the door shoulders hunched.

  “So what do you do Evan?” I asked, not even bothering with the menu. I knew what I wanted.

  “I’m between jobs.” He said and didn’t elaborate.

  I let the silence build and took the opportunity to study him from across the table while he perused the menu. His eyes were greener than they had a right to be, I’d never seen anything like it. He’d definitely had braces when he was a kid, like me. No one naturally had teeth so straight and perfect. He scraped his upper lip between them while he perused the menu and I itched to grab my camera.

  “You know I’m being really good right now.” I blurted out. His eyes snapped up and met mine and I almost forgot to breathe.

  “You always a good girl?” he asked. I pursed my lips and brought up my camera, he scowled but I snapped the picture anyways.

  “Nope.” I said popping the ‘p’.

  “What’s good here?” he asked.

  “I get the small number one.” I said and he set the menu aside. We stared at each other for a long time.

  “What’s your favorite band?” he asked suddenly.

  “I like classical for the most part, but modern band wise, I like Elysium I guess.” I shrugged a shoulder. There was a moment of flinching around his eyes and I tilted my head to the side. Curious.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded.

  “Who moves in at four thirty on a Monday morning?” I asked even though what I really wanted to ask was why the flinching, I discarded the notion. Sometimes it wasn’t always best to announce you were so perceptive. It made people uncomfortable and I was too curious about Evan to risk chasing him away just yet.

  “I do.” He answered and a muscle in his jaw ticked.

  Forth coming he was not.

  More silence. I didn’t feel a need to fill it and we were momentarily saved from having to by a waitress. She took our orders, two number ones, mine small his large and she wandered away.

  “You look young.” I commented.

  “I’m twenty-four. You?”

  “Just turned twenty-three.” I answered.

  “College?” I asked.

  “No.” a long pause, then, “You?”

  “Photo journalism.” His gaze raked over me, searching my face. His expression was decidedly unfriendly at the revelation.

  “What is with you?” I asked, crossing my arms on the table in front of me.

  “What do you mean?” he asked, glaring.

  “You’re acting paranoid, don’t like your picture taken, and you just gave me a dirty look for wanting to be a photo journalist.” I glared right back. He sighed and ran a hand over his hair.

  “Sorry.” He grimaced and I rolled my eyes.

  “Make you a deal.” I said. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

  “What?” he asked.

  Our noodle bowls were set in front of us. I began tearing up Thai basil into mine.

  “Every time you start acting like a douche bag I get to take a picture.” I said.

  “You’re doing that anyways.” He raised an eyebrow and he went from gorgeous to adorable.

  “Yeah except if you say ‘deal’ then I don’t have to feel guilty about it.” I smiled and blew on a bite of noodles. His gaze swept over my face one more time and he nodded slowly.

  “Deal.” He grunted, and I smiled in triumph.

  “Gimme your camera.” He said suddenly and held out his hand. It was my turn to narrow my eyes in suspicion. He waggled his hand impatiently and I drew the strap over my head and settled the weight in his palm. He looked down at the back and frowned.

  “Where’s the screen?” he asked. I laughed.

  “It’s a vintage camera, runs on light and film. It was my dad’s, he gave it to me.” He turned it over in his hands and looked through it. I laughed and he took a picture of me. He handed the camera back carefully and I advanced the roll of film.

  “Where do you have the pictures done?” he asked.

  “I do them myself, in my bathroom.” I answered.

  “Is that the weird smell I sometimes get outside your door?” he asked.

  “Kind of vinegar but not?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah
that’s the fixer. Sorry about that.” I shoveled in another mouthful.

  “Stinks.” He muttered around a mouthful of food.

  “So do your cigarettes.” I shot back.

  “They’re cloves.” He frowned.

  “They’re still bad for you.”

  “Yeah okay thanks for the PSA mom.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Yeah okay. I get a picture.” I said and smiled sweetly and holy cow, he actually smiled back.

  “What?” he asked and it must have been the expression on my face.

  “Nothing.” I tried to lie.

  “That wasn’t nothing,” and damn it he was scowling again, “What were you thinking?”

  “You’re really hot when you smile.” I mumbled behind a fork full of noodles. He laughed and I could feel myself color.

  “What’s so funny?” I asked when he didn’t stop.

  “Never had a chick get so embarrassed because she got cornered into telling me I’m hot.” He said.

  “One I’m not a ‘chick’, girl, woman, lady, or female are all acceptable adjectives, chick is so not… Two, you weren’t going to let it go and…” he interrupted me.

  “You’ve got pretty eyes. Not blue, more gray or silver.” He said and I felt my eyebrows draw in.

  “What?” I asked.

  “You heard me.” He leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms, leveling my gaze with his, meeting my eyes in an almost challenge.

  “What does the color of my eyes have to do with anything?” I asked.

  “Nothing but it got you off your moral high horse.” He smiled and it was disarming.

  “That’s two pictures.” I griped and he smirked.

  “Worth it.” he said and started eating again with gusto.

  We finished our meal and true to his word, he paid, pulling a crumpled twenty out of his leather jacket’s pocket.

  “Thank you for dinner Evan.” I said once we were out on the side walk.

  “You’re welcome.” He said, hands jammed back into his jeans pockets.

  I started walking back towards home and turned to say something when I realized Evan wasn’t beside me but rather striding up the sidewalk in the opposite direction.

  I shook my head. Hot yes, but also weird. I went home, taking a few pictures along the way.

  Chapter 5

  Two nights later I was off work and hauling myself up the stairs to my apartment. Someone was leaning against my door fiddling with the knob.

  “What’re you doing!?” I demanded, fingers wrapping around my phone in my pocket. Evan turned and narrowed his eyes, blearily looking in my direction. He was piss drunk and I winced.

  “Tryin’ t’ get into my fuggin’ apartment.” He slurred.

  I went passed him and put my key in the lock.

  “This isn’t your apartment, you’re drunk. Your apartment’s upstairs.” I unlatched the door and opened it but before I could do anything Evan shouldered his way passed me, dropping his keys at my feet and staggered into my place.

  “Evan!” I whisper-shouted. I went into my apartment after retrieving his keys. His leather jacket had been discarded in a heap in my hallway and I rolled my eyes. I so didn’t need this shit!

  “Evan!” I went into my bedroom and there he was, flopped face first across my bed, passed out cold.

  “God damn it!” I shook him, but nope, he was out with a capital ‘O’. I sighed and looked at his keys in my hand.

  All right. Two could play at this game. I took a night gown and house sweater into my bathroom and washed the makeup off my face and changed. I went out my front door, but not before snapping one of the owed photos of him passed out in my bed, and I quickly stole up to his apartment with his keys, my keys and my camera.

  He would be safe enough. I locked my door behind him.

  “You better not throw up in my bed.” I muttered to no one as I unlocked his door.

  His apartment was sparsely furnished, and I really mean that. He had a futon mattress and frame out into the bed position. Two black milk crates stood on end to either side serving as end tables. The only lamp in the room glowed on top of one. The other held his stacked porn collection.

  A computer monitor sat on another milk crate across the room, the tower for the PC on the carpet beside it. An acoustic guitar and an electric guitar and amp sat against one wall and that was it… no chairs, no desk, nothing.

  “Well aren’t you the minimalist Evan Lake?” I asked the empty air.

  I locked the door behind me and set my camera and the two sets of keys on the end crate below the lamp. This was so freaking weird but I wasn’t about to try and drag his ass out of my place and I wasn’t willing to call the police on him so…

  I got into his bed and laid down, pulling the comforter over me. The bed smelled faintly of his cigarettes, sweet, and of alcohol… apparently this wasn’t the first night he’d been on a bender. Underneath the smoke and booze was a smell like the breeze off the ocean, his cologne maybe. I tried not to think about it.

  It didn’t take as long as I thought it would for me to fall asleep, I thought it would take longer. When I woke up it was midmorning and I sat up to find a pissed off Evan standing over me.

  “What the fuck London!?” he shouted.

  “Don’t you shout at me you drunk asshole!” I snapped. The window stood open behind him.

  I sat up, then stood up, getting out of his bed.

  “How did I wind up in your locked apartment and what the fuck are you doing in my bed?” he ground out.

  “Gee I don’t know genius, why don’t you think about it, figure it out and get back to me?” I picked up my camera and keys and went for the door.

  “Seriously! I have no fucking idea!” he called to my retreating back and I turned to give it to him but the lost look on his face killed the nasty words on my tongue. I swallowed them back down bitterly.

  “I came home last night and you were trying to get into my apartment, drunk off your ass. I unlocked my door and you made yourself at home. Passed out cold in my bed. I couldn’t move you and I wasn’t willing to call the cops, which I could have, so I picked up your keys and apartment swapped.” I shrugged.

  He didn’t say anything.

  “Just please tell me you didn’t puke in my bed.” I said and frowned.

  “No, I made it to the bathroom.” He sighed and dropped onto the edge of his futon mattress. I came back and crouched near him.

  He looked me over. I must have looked a fright, hair sleep tousled, clad in a tank-dress to my ankles and a raggedy old house cardigan.

  He closed his eyes and swayed at the waist. I sighed.

  “I’m sorry.” He said at last.

  I started picking at the laces on his combat boots.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  “Putting you to bed in your own bed.” I said simply.

  “Stop.” He said, but I started in on the other boot.

  “Stop! Jesus London I can do it myself I’m not a child!” he cried.

  “Really? You’re sure acting like one!” I snapped. We stared at each other, neither one backing down. He looked away first, toeing off his boots.

  “It won’t happen again.” He said through gritted teeth, then “Thanks for not calling the cops.”

  “What is going on with you?” I asked.

  “Nothing.” He lied. I snorted.

  “If God went around hugging liars, He’d break every bone in your body.” I said and stood up.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked.

  “You aren’t stupid.” I shot at him, “Figure it out,” and with that I went for the door.

  “Wait.” He said and I stopped, hand on the knob.

  “Will you stay with me a while?” he asked. I almost turned around and screeched ‘Are You Serious!?’ at him but I refrained.

  “I have things to do.” I said.

  “Just a little bit.” He said.

  “Why?” I asked.

 
“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He swallowed hard. I went back over to him and crouched back down.

  “Tell me what’s going on.” I demanded. He stared at the ceiling and tears welled in his eyes.

  “I lost my best friend.” He sniffed and they spilled over. “He died.”

  Oh.

  Damn.

  He put his forehead to his knees and his shoulders shook with silent sobs. I set down keys and camera and sat down on the edge of the futon by him.

  “I’m sorry Evan.” I murmured and put arms around him. I sighed and he shook.

  Finally, when he was all cried out I lifted the blankets for him. He crawled under and before I could stand he had captured my wrist with his long fingers, pulling me off balance and against him.

  “Evan I don’t think this is a good idea…” I began but my racing heart was disagreeing with me.

  “I don’t want sex from you London.” He sounded exasperated like the notion was absolutely ridiculous and my first thought was ouch, okay… my next thought was to admonish myself for thinking with my vagina rather than my brain. It didn’t happen probably as often as with a guy but girls undeniably did it too… My train of thought was derailed when he uttered:

  “I just don’t want to be alone right now,” and he sounded so vulnerable it made my heart ache. I sighed nodding. Okay I could stay for a bit more. I laid down next to him but put my back to him. He spooned me, arm around my waist and buried his face between my shoulders into my back. He drew in a long shuddering breath.

  “You smell sweet, like cherries or something.” He mumbled before his breathing deepened and evened signaling he’d fallen asleep or passed out again.

  “Almonds not cherries.” I whispered to the empty air and closed my eyes, sighing.

  This was going to end badly for me. I could just feel it.

  Chapter 6

  Pounding on my front door.

  “London!”

  I sighed and put the photo I’d just developed into the fixer.

  “Just a minute!” I shouted. I stood watching the timer click down and the pounding resumed on my front door.

  “London answer the door!” came the muffled shout.

  “Just a minute more, God!” I shouted back.

  I deemed it long enough that the picture wouldn’t spoil if light pollution got to it from my opening the bathroom door. I ducked out quickly and went for the front door as a fresh set of pounding started.