The Stage

by Catherine Russell

  “Fancy meeting you here,” he purred into my ear as his arm easily slid around my waist. His scent seemed stronger and I returned his touch with one of my own.

  “Well, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re stalking me,” I said, raising a brow sarcastically. And just so you know… I don’t mind being stalked by you, I thought across the link. It felt completely natural using it, which was a welcome change from the last few weeks.

  He looked at me, obviously pleasantly surprised. I’ll keep that in mind. It would seem you’re growing comfortable whispering in my mind. His sinful smile made my heart flutter more than usual. His arms held me a little bit longer, too, making me not want to escape them.

  “Good morning, cutie.” Pepper wedged her way between us. Geoffrey rolled his eyes and let her through. I exchanged greetings with the rest of the group as they set up small stools and took guitars from their cases.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “From time to time we do little gigs here, helping raise money for the women’s shelter and rescue mission.” Geoffrey’s voice would be perfect here, the acoustics balanced with the outside venue.

  “That’s a great idea,” I said, dropping a few dollars into the open case to get the ball rolling.

  “You don’t need to do that,” he said, reaching down to retrieve the money in the case, but I caught his hand and held it instead. His reaction was one of surprise as he looked at my hand, then to me and back.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It’s nothing, but seriously—you don’t need to do that. We’re not here strictly to sing.” His words didn’t hide the fact that somehow I’d surprised him.

  “We’re singing for our supper, too,” Pepper added, her smile so contagious that I returned it, though I was clearly confused by her words.

  “We have a contact here at the market; they assist us with our meal options,” she said.

  Okay, now I was really confused.

  Geoffrey sensed this and guided me off to the side as other people began to take notice and waited for the music to start. Using the link, he explained. We have a contact who supplies us with…

  Blood? I stammered, finishing his thought.

  He grinned again. Yes, but it’s not what you think.

  I could feel his wanting to make it clear they had no intention of hurting anyone, and I nodded my head.

  He’s a local butcher in the market. He offers his help in exchange…

  The logical question appeared on my face, and he followed it through.

  Let’s just say we helped him out of a sticky situation and he’s grateful for it. And yes, we trust him to keep our secret… or else he wouldn’t be around… anywhere.

  The underlying darkness to his words startled me, but I held it in. “All right, I get it. Singing for your supper—very cute.”

  “What are you doing here?” He took a long sip from his mug and I could smell it. The aroma was making my mouth water, but he didn’t seem to notice—thank goodness.

  “Relaxing, actually.”

  “Tracy and I are having a girl’s day out. We’re going shopping while the boys work—for a change,” Pepper chided Geoffrey gently as he strapped on his guitar, tuning it slightly.

  “Would you like to join us?” Tracy asked, turning to me.

  I was caught off-guard by their enthusiasm at having me join them. I found myself not thinking, just following what my heart wanted.

  “You know what? Sure, sounds fun. And also, you two,” I eyed them directly, “thank you so much for… for what you did at my place. It’s truly amazing, thank you.” My smile came easily, and they smiled back.

  “I must warn you that these two,” Geoffrey pointed candidly at both of them, “can be shopping extremists. Good luck.” He kissed me gently and I had a sudden urge not to let go. I wanted more, but I buried the craving and reluctantly walked away.

  Pepper took me by the hand with Tracy smiling sweetly next to her. “You,

  gorgeous, are more than welcome. Now… today is your day. Where would you like to start?” Pepper’s eyes were eager and excited. I felt a spark of fun beginning to build inside.

  People were staring at Tracy—and I could see why. Her eyes were a brilliant crystal blue. The contrast between her dark chocolate skin and the blue gave her an exotic look. Her long, thick, mahogany hair, which was normally up in a wrap, now hung flowing over her slender shoulders.

  They took me arm-in-arm and headed into the first of many shops. We covered every inch of the market; from the largest antique stores to the hidden treasure coves down in the deepest corners. Geoffrey wasn’t kidding; they would tag team the vendors, bartering against each other until they got the price they wanted. It was almost an art form, they did it so well.

  I tried on a hat or two and browsed the flashy stage jewelry while they commanded the attention. While they dickered over a mammoth oriental rug, I ducked inside an art supply shop. Since the break-in had wrecked what supplies I had, I picked up sketch pads, charcoal pencils, and frames. I took a seat in the hallway and waited for the two pros to finish their deal. I took out a pencil and flipped open a pad. Instantly I started outlining the scene, with Pepper and Tracy as the centerpiece.

  At last we headed back to the boys. We could hear their music and another smile spread across my face. A good-sized crowd had gathered, and the donation box was getting a workout. Each of the boys took turns singing, playing the crowd with ease. Geoffrey loved showing off. Now and then he’d spy a pretty girl and play it up, but then he’d change it up and strut in the other direction. He was a pro at making each woman grin.

  “Pepper?”

  “Yes, birthday girl?” She wrapped her arm around my waist.

  “I’ve got one more place I wanted to go to. I’ll be right back. Will you tell him for me?”

  “I’m pretty sure he already knows.”

  Geoffrey was in mid-stride when he turned my direction, and winked as he continued to sing. I waved goodbye and headed to my old haunt.

  Crossing the doorway into the ice cream shop was like re-entering a childhood memory, the bright pastel color of the counters, the round cushion pedestal seats and the 50s music be-bopping from the antique jukebox. Nothing had changed. The walls were still covered in 1950s décor, Coca-Cola signs in bright red, and even the hula hoops still hung on the walls. A smile crept across my face as I spied my favorite flavor. It was the one my mom always bought me on my birthday. I’d never come across another ice cream parlor that carried black licorice ice cream—true black—not that nasty imitation some of the big chain stores used to carry.

  A pimple-faced teenager put down his DS. “May I help you?” he asked, totally without enthusiasm.

  “I’ll have two huge scoops of licorice ice cream in a waffle cone, please.” The freshly made cones always made the air taste sweet.

  “This stuff?” he pointed, confused.

  “Yep, that’s the one.” I had to hold back a giggle. It never failed. His question made me wonder why they kept it on the menu if it wasn’t ordered very often.

  “Okay… you just don’t seem the usual customer we get for that flavor.” He reached in for the second scoop, rolling it even bigger than the first.

  “Why is that?” I asked, reaching up, taking the cone.

  “Usually it’s the Goths that want it. You know, black lips, black tongue—that sort of thing. We had a run on it yesterday, you know, it being Halloween.” He handed me my change.

  “Well, it’s my favorite.” I smiled as I dug in.

  “Cool, enjoy.” He returned to his video game.

  “Thanks.” I walked out, thoroughly diving into the ice cream. I was sure my entire mouth was now dark blackish green, and I couldn’t help but smile. My mom used to scold me jokingly about what a sight I was eating this. She was here somewhere; I just knew
it. I smiled at the thought.

  Sitting down on the bench, I enjoyed every lick, crunch and drip. About halfway through, however, it didn’t taste right anymore. Something was off; the ice cream tasted flat. I tossed what was left and wiped off my face, trying to squash the uneasiness in my stomach. As soon as I stopped eating, the queasiness subsided.

  Then a familiar voice caught my attention. “There you are!” Ashleigh called out. She strolled through the crosswalk just as a cab came to a screeching halt, its horn blaring. She flicked her wrist at it like it was a fly and made her way over to me. Barely sitting down, so as not to get her designer jeans dirty, she started in on me. “Where have you been? I’ve been calling and texting you all day! You had me worried sick—I think I might have a gray hair with your name on it now.” She scowled at her reflection in her compact, trying to hide the culprit stray gray hair that no one but her could see.

  “Are you—” my laugh interrupted me, “—done yet?” I started to laugh so hard my eyes watered.

  She looked at me for a split-second, her face froze in mid-sentence, and then her own burst of laughter joined mine. We sat there, holding each other and laughing.

  With a deep breath I turned to her, smiling. “I’ve never heard you rant like that before! So… maternal.”

  “Don’t you dare call me maternal! I’m not that old.” She said it like a bad word.

  “Oh… excuse me,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “I just got worried when you didn’t answer, that’s all,” she said in her best snooty voice. “Besides, I know how you are. I figured I’d find you here—though you look different somehow.” She seemed to be searching for some emotion on my face.

  “Different, how?” I asked as I fiddled through my bag.

  “Well, you look—for lack of a better word—happy.”

  “You seem surprised by that,” I said, standing up to brush off the crumbs. She stood as well, careful not to step into the mud puddle near us. Heaven forbid that her toes got wet through her peek-a-boo heels.

  “You know how you get, all teary-eyed. So I thought you’d be down here, drowning your sorrows in that awful concoction of yours.” She pointed to my now black-and-green mouth. “I see you crossed that off your bucket list.” She wrinkled her nose in disgust at my treat.

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you try it.”

  We wound our way through the flower vendors, and the fragrance was amazing. I could smell each flower individually—hyacinths, roses, baby’s breath, orchids, jasmine, and lavender. For some reason, they all seemed very potent today. I came across a huge bouquet of every color, bright and vibrant. I could make out where each petal ended and a new one began. And the colors were so… exact. I was totally distracted, but it was just a bunch of flowers, right?

  I could hear someone talking and music. I could even feel a slight breeze flowing over my arms, my face. Why was I so focused on these flowers? What was going on? I took off my shades, squinting, and tried to shake it off.

  Ashleigh was still chattering away about something. I pulled my eyes from the flowers. I forced myself to look at her speaking, trying to hear her words. Every sound, every sight seemed almost excruciatingly focused. Every one of my senses was reaching its max. I tried to stay calm. I felt a pressure on my arm and blinked, trying to focus, to turn, looking at who was there.

  Ashleigh was speaking to me, but her voice was far off, like in a tunnel. “Megan… hello? Earth to Megan.” She snapped her fingers in front of me.

  “Sorry… spaced out.” I forced a smile, playing it off.

  “As I was saying before you drifted off to la-la land, do you want those?”

  “Yeah, these are beautiful,” I said, gushing maybe a little too much, as Ash rolled her eyes at me.

  “We’ll take two of these, then.” She whipped out cash for the clerk. I turned to find a bench to sit down on before anything else could happen. I caught a whiff of bad body odor and then it changed to a very potent heavenly scent. Closing my eyes, I focused on it, holding my breath, and began to relax. The scent was actually calming me, but I still needed to breathe. I reluctantly took another breath; this time the scent was intoxicating, all around me. I suddenly realized it was Geoffrey’s scent, only I had never experienced it like this. Something told me that this was the link’s doing, enhancing my own senses. I opened my eyes and saw him walking towards us. I stood up, acting as normal as possible. With full fidget mode going, I cleaned my shades, putting them back on as he reached out for me.

  “And just what are you enjoying that’s turned your mouth dark green?” he grinned, not catching on the fact that I was on the verge of my own panic. I took his hand in mine, and he noticed the slight tremor in mine.

  “What can I say? I’ve regressed back to being a kid. It’s licorice ice cream.”

  He stroked the back of my hand, looking intensely at me. Megan? What’s going on? he asked through the link.

  I’m fine, really. Just too much sugar from the ice cream, that’s all, I silently insisted, not wanting to tip Ashleigh off.

  “Geoffrey, fancy meeting you here,” she quipped, as she handed me my bouquet.

  “Ashleigh, it’s always a pleasure.” He kissed her cheek as the nausea really set in. I held it bay the best I could, and closed my eyes behind my shades.

  “What are you two lovely ladies doing?” he asked, slipping his arm around my waist. It took everything I had not to sway as the cold sweat broke out on my neck. Thankfully, the Pacific Northwest clouds had rolled in and the temperature was dropping rapidly.

  “We’re headed to lunch for her birthday. Will you join us?” She gestured to her favorite Italian restaurant on the cross-corner.

  He glanced at me and I smiled meekly in agreement, still fighting back the nausea. “I’d love to.”

  The three of us walked arm-in-arm, crossing the cobblestone street. Just as we entered the restaurant, it began to drizzle. It was a slow day and the hostess was prompt to seat us, recognizing Ashleigh.

  “Good afternoon Ms. Dior. Your usual table?” she said, grabbing some menus and motioning the way.

  “Yes,” Ash replied, without a sideways glance.

  When we were seated, the hostess handed out the menus, but all I wanted was a bathroom. “I’ll be right back. Can you order some water for me?” I asked Geoffrey, cutting his words off before he could ask the expected question.

  Once through the bathroom door, I dashed to a stall as the ice cream came back for an unwelcome return visit. My head spun as I heaved over and over. The aroma of basil and garlic in the restaurant didn’t help. Then I realized I could hear people—lots and lots of people—in the kitchen, out front, everywhere. Doors were opening and closing, cell phones were ringing, and even the rain outside was pounding.

  It was like sensory overload. I kept my head down, clamping my mouth shut, trying to halt the vomiting. My throat burned and my breathing slowed as I sat down on the cold marble floor. After a couple of minutes, I stood up, splashed water on my face, and went back out.

  One glance at Geoffrey and I knew that he was aware of what had happened in the bathroom, but Ashleigh was texting and totally oblivious to our unspoken but heated discussion. I took a huge gulp of ice water and buried my head in the menu as the waiter approached.

  “Good afternoon, what can I start you with today?” Oh God, I knew that voice. Why here? Why now? This is not happening. I put my menu down and looked up at Chase.

  “Megan?” Chase said, nervously eying Geoffrey.

  I swear I could see the blood drain from his face. “Hey, Chase,” I said weakly, wanting to shrink under the table.

  “Oh, aren’t you the guy from the hospital?” Ash said, wagging her finger at him. Leave it to Ash to throw fuel on the fire.

  Hospital? The link actually grumbled. Great, like I didn’t have enough to deal with right now.
<
br />   Later, not now! Trust me, I snapped silently.

  After a very awkward lunch Ashleigh went to her spa appointment and Geoffrey drove me back to my place. We barely made it through my front door before I hurled the chicken Parmesan back up.

  “Look, I’ll be fine. It’s just a stomach bug, that’s all,” I insisted as I made my way over to the couch, which was calling my name.

  “Remember, Megan, that what you feel, I feel as well. I knew it as soon as we met up at the market that something was wrong.”

  His eyes looked worried and I didn’t have the strength to fight. “Look, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” I said, standing up. Suddenly I swayed, and he caught me as the room began to go dark.

  “Megan?”

  I could hear his words, but exhaustion was winning the battle and I couldn’t find the energy to even open my eyes. I used the one avenue left. I just want to go to bed. I’ll be fine, trust me. My words fell on deaf ears, though. As I curled up in a ball, I heard him opening and closing drawers, pulling out clothes, and then the familiar zip of my backpack.

  You’re coming home with me and I won’t take no for an answer. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m going to take care of the one in my life who means the most.

  I gave up. What was the point in fighting against the pull that was growing stronger? I couldn’t deny that any more. My eyelids went dark as he flipped the switch off, and then I felt his cool embrace lift me off the bed, followed by the breeze of the oncoming night as he stepped onto my balcony.

  Do you trust me?

  Now that was a strange question. Why?

  Just answer the question, if you don’t mind?