Destiny's Dark Fantasy Boxed Set (Eight Book Bundle)

by Tamara Rose Blodgett

  “Are we really going to argue about her?” Jimmy said after a few beats, thumbing at me.

  Dex continued to stare at Jimmy, rage pulsing at the corners of his jaw.

  This was too much for me to handle. The tears started to flow; even though they were tears of frustration and anger, I didn’t know what to do.

  So, I decided to leave.

  I got up quickly, squeaked out an “excuse me,” and bolted out of the room and the office before Jimmy, Dex, or the receptionist had a chance to say anything.

  I pushed the button for the elevator a few times before my vision was blurred by my tears. I decided the stairs might be the quickest way out.

  I got into the stairway and ran down. At first I wasn’t sure what I was running from; by the time I had gone down ten flights and my knees were starting to hurt, I slowed my pace and started breathing in deeply.

  I probably shouldn’t have run like that. I know it was totally unprofessional and made me look even worse, but what was the point in sticking around to be humiliated further? It’s not like I was going to get a show anyway at this rate, no matter how hard Dex fought for me.

  The thought of what he said brought a sense of warmth into my aching, wheezing chest. I slowed down even more and sat down on one of the cold steps. The stairwell was empty and I had another thirty floors to go down.

  I took in a few deep breaths and tried to run through what had happened. I had two feelings battling inside of me. One was that icky feeling you get when you know you’ve made an idiot of yourself; the other was a sense of unworthiness. Never in my whole life have I ever had someone put so much stock into me as a person and actually believe it. Or at least act like he believed it. I was a huge risk for him and he seemed willing to jump with no rope or cord attached. It amazed me that Dex said all of that and to his boss, no less. I’d be on my ass in a second if I ever said anything like that to Frida.

  And at that thought, I was shot with a third feeling: Guilt. The guilt of lying to my boss and putting my job on the line, all for nothing. I could see the shoes my mom had bought me, sitting proudly in their shoebox. I could have ruined everything for myself.

  “What a mess,” I said out loud, my voice echoing from the cement walls.

  I sat there for a few more minutes trying to figure out my next course of action. I didn’t know where Dex was and I didn’t have a phone, so I couldn’t call him. But I did have money and a plane ticket. Getting a cab and heading back to the airport seemed like the smartest thing to do. Just go back home, try and buckle down and make something good of my life, and forget all of this ever happened.

  Not that it was going to be that easy. To just let go of all those hopes that this had given me. Hope, potential, dreams. I really thought this was my way out of an ordinary life. My promotion was great and all, but it was an ordinary job and still felt stifling, and when I thought about this opportunity, it just paled in comparison. This had been a chance to actually prove to everyone what exactly I was capable of. Even when I didn’t believe anything was going to come of this, something at the back of my head and in the bottom of my heart was already fully invested.

  I sighed. I wiped away any makeup smudges under my eyes, brushed back my hair and stood up. I’d probably end up dwelling on this all day, regardless, but there was no point doing it in a cold stairwell in a giant Seattle office building.

  I made my way down the rest of the stairs and out of the lobby, walking quickly in case I saw someone I didn’t want to see. Not that I thought Jimmy would be waiting to pounce on me and insult me further, but I was paranoid.

  Once outside, I scanned the street for cabs. It looked like there might be one across the street in front of a boutique hotel.

  I was heading for it, hoping no one else would take it, when I heard my name being called. It was Dex’s voice.

  I didn’t want to turn around. I wanted to be free of all of this. I kept walking and ignored it.

  I didn’t get very far.

  I heard footsteps behind me and my arm being grabbed. He stopped in front of me, panting slightly, a crazed look in his eyes. I looked down at his free hand. He had a pen and a stack of papers in it.

  “Perry,” he said breathlessly. “Why did you run?”

  I gave him a look. Was he serious?

  “I’m sure being humiliated is a normal thing for you?” I sneered.

  He rolled his eyes. “Jimmy is Jimmy. Don’t listen to him. I don’t. And it doesn’t matter, he listens to me.”

  He let go of my arm and placed the papers in one of my hands and the pen in the other.

  “Would you do me the honor of signing this contract?”

  What? I looked down at my hands. I didn’t understand.

  “We’ve got the show, kiddo. If you still want it,” he said, peering deep into my eyes.

  “How? He said—”

  He shook his head. “That’s just Jimmy. Like I told you, he listens to me. He knows he would be stupid not to take a chance on this.”

  Though I felt uncomfortable about all of this, there was a tingling of excitement biting at my toes.

  “Dex,” I said, looking down at the paper but not really seeing it. “I don’t want to do anything if you forced someone—”

  “I didn’t!” he exclaimed. “He likes a challenge as much as I do. Now what do you say? You know how I feel now.”

  I looked up at him. Did I?

  He smiled at me, took the papers from my hand and held them against his chest. He took my other hand and put the pen to the papers.

  “You’re signing it on my heart, that’s got to say something,” he said.

  I took in a deep breath, not sure of how to feel or think. I know Dex wasn’t talking about anything too deep, but the fact was he was still willing to take this chance on me and somehow convinced his boss to do the same. I felt uncomfortable, but a touch of excitement climbed through my body at an alarming rate.

  “We’ll make a great team. I promise,” he grinned, and tried to move my hand down to the signature area.

  I couldn’t help but smile back. It was a nice little moment, standing on the side of a busy Seattle street with the contract to our future lying against his chest, the pen and the power in my own hand. I smiled even more until I thought my cheeks would burst.

  I still had to look over the contract and make sure I knew exactly what I was getting into. I knew I would probably have to work at the agency part-time in order to have enough time to film during the week. I knew that might mean I could lose my job because I had no idea if they would let me work part-time; therefore, I could be tossing away a perfectly acceptable future in advertising. It also meant disappointing my parents again (those damn shoes), and working with a man who I was falling for when he expressed no real interest in me and had a girlfriend, despite his apparent devotion to me in this project. Even though there were no guarantees of any success, I still signed my name. On his heart, no less.

  I knew it was the most important thing I had ever written.

  Dex laughed when I was done and patted me hard on the back.

  “You’ve made me a very happy man, kiddo,” he said, folding the papers into his hand. “Now, wait here while I run these up to him. I’ll be quick.”

  He turned and sprinted toward the building, his hair flopping against his head with each stride.

  Now that I was alone again, it actually hit me. I was doing this. I was actually doing this. Things were never going to be the same again.

  I did a tiny Mary Tyler Moore jump in the street to the amusement of the passersby. At least they met me with smiles.

  Dex wasn’t long, and within minutes he was back at my side, wiping his hands.

  “Done deal,” he said. “No turning back now.”

  I nodded and we started off toward his car. We walked in silence, mostly due to the little conversations we were probably having in our heads at the same time. But before we got in, I grabbed his hand and stopped him.

  I w
asn’t sure what to say or how to say it. I licked my lips nervously and looked up into those brown eyes of his. They were almost unreadable but I detected a current of worry behind them. I let go of his hand.

  “Thank you.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  That was all we ever said about what had happened. During the ride back to the airport, we discussed the logistics of our future endeavors.

  The episode, which I quickly reviewed on his laptop in the car, was very well done and well edited. There wasn’t much in the way of “ghostly proof,” but there was a frightening atmosphere to the whole show, and I knew that I could write the perfect piece to go with it. It would be the truth, of course, that I would put out there for anyone to believe.

  Dex said the episode would go live on a Sunday night in two weeks. He and I would then push hard for lots of exposure. I could use the existing YouTube videos and redirect people; I could use my sister’s blog and even create my own separate dummy blog to increase more traffic. Dex said Jimmy was pretty good at getting advertising, which is something I could have done, considering my day job, but I wanted to keep that as separate from this as possible.

  In three weeks we would fly down to Texas for the weekend and shoot our next episode. We decided the best thing for me to do would be to request that I work at the agency Tuesdays through Thursdays so I could have Fridays through Mondays to travel, shoot, and write.

  It was a gamble for me to think that work was going to let me do this, and even more imposing than that, it meant I was going to have no life for the foreseeable future. But what life did I really have before, anyway?

  As anxious and nervous as I was about the new path I was about to head down, a tiny part of me knew everything was going to be OK. It felt right.

  When we got to the airport, Dex pulled the car up to the terminal, got out and opened the door for me.

  “Thanks,” I smiled, feeling charmed and connected.

  “I’ve got a thank-you present for you,” he said with a jovial glint in his eyes. “Close your eyes.”

  The childish part of my brain hoped that maybe it was something as simple and romantic as a kiss. I closed them.

  He placed something cold in my hands. I opened my eyes to see a shiny new iPhone sitting in them.

  “What?” I beamed. “You didn’t have to—”

  “I kinda did. And I kinda wanted to. Now you can return my crazy texts at all hours of the night,” he winked. “It’s more for my pleasure than for yours.”

  I squeezed the phone in my hand and put my arms out to hug him. He embraced me wholeheartedly.

  Until his own phone started to ring. He broke away and looked at it. I could see on the screen it was Jennifer.

  “Sorry, I have to take this,” he said apologetically to me and patted me hard on the shoulder. “Have a safe flight. I’ll call you soon.”

  I nodded awkwardly as he put the phone to his ear and said, “Hey, babe.”

  He talked to her, sincerely engrossed in the conversation. I turned around, feeling a bit stupid, and walked away toward the ticket agent. I looked behind at him, hoping to catch him watching me. Instead, he was still talking and walking back to his car, his lithe figure cutting through the crowd.

  I felt pretty small as I walked to my gate and waited for the plane to arrive, but somehow pushed those thoughts out of my head. If I could just get over these feelings that I had for him then I would be OK. After all, it was just a stupid girl crush that I had. What was really important was the fact that I was about to embark on a journey unlike any I’d ever been on before.

  I looked around the busy gate area, at the nameless people sitting about and decided I should probably use the bathroom before I got on the plane. Though it was a short flight, I didn’t have an aisle seat and I hated having to climb over people just because I had to go pee.

  I walked down the hall, past the gift shops, bars and a few more gates before I found the restroom.

  It was surprisingly empty, which was a nice change from what airport bathrooms usually look like. There was only one woman in a stall down near the end. I noticed her red patent Mary Janes and old lady stockings. I went into the nearest stall to the front.

  I hung my bag up on the sturdy coat hook, noting how damp the ground looked, and proceeded to sit down. As I did so, I heard the stall door at the end open and the woman slowly walk out. I didn’t hear her flush, which was pretty gross but expected in public washrooms. I swear, women were just as bad as men in these scenarios. It must have been some sort of internal rebellion mechanism, like “I don’t live here so I don’t have to clean; instead, I’ll act like a fucking monkey.”

  As I was thinking that, I noticed how precise the woman’s footsteps were as she walked down the aisle toward me and the sinks.

  Heel, toe, heel, toe, heel, toe.

  It was slow enough to be creepy and creepy enough that I had too much stage fright to even go. I just sat there, holding my breath and waiting for her to walk past.

  But she didn’t.

  Heel, toe, heel, toe. And then it stopped somewhere outside my stall.

  Heel, toe, heel, toe.

  It was like she was walking toward me.

  What the fuck?

  Heel. Toe.

  And then it stopped, just as the round toes of the red Mary Janes were visible beneath my stall door, facing directly towards me.

  This crazy bitch was standing right outside my fucking door!

  I didn’t know what to say or do. I didn’t want to move, but I was on the fucking toilet seat. This was the most vulnerable position ever.

  I kept my eyes on the toes, thinking at some point they’d move or maybe the woman would say something. But neither of those things happened.

  There was a large enough crack between the stall doors, though, usually the bane of every public washroom.

  I slowly moved my head over so that I was looking through the crack. Maybe I could get an idea of what she was doing.

  And through the crack I saw an eye. A heavily made up, aging eye staring right back at me, face pressed up to the door.

  I screamed. I couldn’t help it.

  I screamed and jumped off of the toilet, yanking up my pants far enough and flung myself out of the bathroom stall, fully ready to confront whoever the fuck was out there.

  But as I stumbled out of the stall, the door banging loudly, I didn’t see anyone. There was no one there. I was alone in the washroom, and the woman at the end of the aisle was gone.

  I put my hand to my neck to feel how fast my pulse was racing. I closed my eyes and took in a few deep breaths. After counting to ten, I opened them, expecting the worst.

  I was still alone in the bathroom, my bag hanging on the door, which slowly moved back and forth.

  I grabbed it off the hook and hustled myself over to the sink. I could deal with peeing on the plane. At least I knew I wouldn’t be alone there.

  I placed the bag on the part of the counter that wasn’t wet and quickly splashed cold water on my face, avoiding my eye makeup.

  I looked up in the mirror and saw nothing but my reflection.

  I turned for the paper towels.

  Creepy Clown Lady was standing there beside the dispenser.

  I screamed again, but it was caught in my throat and came out as a breathless gurgle.

  It was her, as clear as day. Her wrinkled, pancaked face, and violet-tinted coif. The bizarre taffeta gown with sewn-on pom pons. Her stockinged legs and red vintage shoes.

  She kept her glassy cataract eyes on me, almost willing me to calm down and stop screaming, as silently as I was trying.

  I don’t know how long we stood there just eyeing each other, only a few feet apart. But at some point I found strength returning to my throat, a life force rushing around my heart.

  “Who the hell are you?!?” I yelled at her.

  She didn’t say anything. Her expression didn’t change. She kept staring at me with her k
nowing eyes that were vaguely inquisitive and strangely patient.

  I wasn’t even afraid at this point. I just wanted to know what the fuck was going on.

  I took a tentative step toward her.

  “Please, tell me, who are you?”

  She smiled, slowly. Her mouth spread, her yellow teeth showed and the bad lipstick job became more glaring. As before, her eyes never smiled along with it. Whatever I had just said about not being afraid, forget it.

  I was very afraid.

  “You’re just starting,” the woman said with her slight accent. Her voice sounded disembodied. I was immediately reminded of a scene with Robert Blake in Lost Highway.

  “You need to keep going,” she continued.

  “Who are you?” I repeated.

  “You need each other. You need to set this right.”

  “Set what right?” I asked. “What? What are you talking about? We did set it right.”

  She shook her head very slowly. As she did, flakes of makeup fell off her face and flittered to the ground like pixie dust. I watched this, dumbfounded.

  “It’s not over yet. You and Dex need each other. We need you. It’s not over yet.”

  I wanted to strangle her, whoever she was.

  “Why, why?” I asked frantically. “Please just tell me why so I can know.”

  “You’ll find out. It’s not over yet. You’re just discovering. You’re just starting.”

  “You keep saying that! What do you mean I’m just starting?” I yelled at her just as I heard the bathroom door close. I turned to see a business woman walk in wheeling a carry-on behind her. She gave me a concerned look and walked past us down the aisle. I followed her walk and saw her give me one last fearful look before she walked into a stall.

  I looked back at Creepy Clown Lady but she was gone.

  I quickly spun around and after seeing no one, I picked up my bag and ran out the door and into the terminal. It was full of passengers going to and fro. The lady had vanished.

  And then my flight was boarding. I had no choice but to scuttle back to my gate and slink on board as the guilty party who was holding up everyone else.

  It was only till I sat down in my seat, after squeezing past the angry fat man on the aisle, that I had a chance to mull over what had happened.