Breathing Black

by Piper Payne

  Then there was silence. I watched as he picked up another photo, deep in thought. I wanted to blurt out everything like a confession to a priest but didn’t dare interrupt whatever he was thinking. The photo he grabbed was of the two of us our senior year in high school. We’d gotten all dressed up and took the picture as a memory of the last homecoming we weren’t going to. I set up the camera and put on a timer. We staged it so it looked like a typical dance picture but when the timer went off we were just laughing hysterically holding on to each other.

  “You know how they say a picture is worth a thousand words?” I let out a forced laugh, rubbing my arm like it was cold, not making eye contact. I wasn’t really expecting him to ask me about it further.

  “Tell me about it.” His posture stiffened. The height difference between us made me feel small and unsure.

  “About what?”

  “The picture.”

  “Oh … well, um … I … I’m not so sure you’d really want to hear it.” This time I grabbed a lock of my hair and twisted without remorse.

  “I do.” He still held on to the frame. I could tell he was upset. His body was so tense, it was awkward standing there not knowing his thoughts. I was fidgeting and nervous, so I took a big deep breath and honestly thought, here goes nothing.

  “Alright, just remember you wanted me to tell you.” I couldn’t just stand there. I had to keep busy and do something without tugging my hair out, so I started building a fire while I told him the story.

  “The photo was taken the night of homecoming our senior year. The great thing about it was that we didn’t really care we weren’t going to the dance. We’d much rather stay in, sneak into my mom’s liquor, and act reckless.” I continued with the story, but as I said the words it was like it just happened yesterday.

  “A cabernet sauvignon!” June said in her most snooty and obnoxious rich-woman voice, waltzing around the kitchen bottle in hand. “This one looks expensive! Dominus Estate 2009, Napa Valley.” She checked out the label. “I think your mother must be banging another rich one!”

  “Ugh, June!” I said, disgusted. “She’s not strung out locked in our bathroom most of the day, so I’m pretty sure you’re right.” I pretended to noose myself with my silk shawl. “This one is different though. She’s much more secretive about it. Disappears for days at time.” I sighed, leaning into the counter. “Wine me.” I reached out and grabbed a wine glass from June. “Ready to celebrate our fucked-up teenage existence?” I smirked.

  “Yes, I would like to propose a toast to the boys who are missing out, because being our dates could’ve resulted in some awesomely awkward Homecoming hand jobs!” She twirled me around like I was on the Price is Right. “It really is a shame because we look hot! Remind me why you try to look like a homeless person at school 24-7, because my dress looks great on you!”

  “You know why.” I glared.

  “Just because you put on a little makeup or wear something that isn’t two sizes too big doesn’t mean you’re going to end up like your mom.” June’s phone started ringing interrupting my really crappy comeback. “Hey, Mel,” June said, annoyed, but her face instantly turned concerned as she hopped onto the counter and put her finger in her ear trying to hear her better, even though it was quiet on our end. “Whoa, Melissa, calm down, I can’t understand you. Are you drunk? Try to speak clearly. What’s going on?”

  After about five minutes of June trying to piece together what’d happened, we were heading over to Ashley Monroe’s house of all places. Ashley had thrown an after-homecoming party, where apparently Melissa had been ditched by her date and was locked in one of the bathrooms too drunk to walk.

  “I’m waiting in the car. There is no way you’re getting me to go into that fucking house! Remind me why we care if Melissa sleeps with her face in a toilet all night?” I gave June an annoyed glare while clenching the steering wheel.

  “Because she’s my cousin and if I don’t, she’ll tattle on me, then I’ll have to answer to my uncle Robert.” June looked physically sick as she said it. “I’ll run in and grab her and then we can get the hell out of here. She’s made my life a living hell like everyone else, so I’m actually excited to drop her off on her front porch trashed.”

  I pulled the Cadillac up to what looked like an extravagant log hotel. I imagined the deforestation to build the house was the size of Colorado itself. I was at Ashley’s house. The enemy. The girl who thought applying lipstick was a hobby and self-tanner was a smoothie.

  I parked in the long U-shaped driveway crammed with vehicles no teenager should be driving. I wanted to get out of the car playing “Money” by Pink Floyd loudly through my Cadillac speakers as I causally keyed them all, the sound of the coins and cash register clanging with each long scrape. “I’ll stay parked right here. Call me if you need me,” I muttered.

  June ran up the enormous grand entry, a massive elk rack chandelier displayed itself as she opened and shut the door. I sat in the car, impatiently drumming on the steering wheel watching the clock. Soon, five minutes turned to ten, then ten turned into twenty, and by that time I’d nearly pulled chunks of hair from my head. Something was wrong. I chewed on my lip nervously each time her phone went to voicemail.

  I got out of the car and buttoned up my emerald wool coat as I walked up the stairs and slipped inside Ashley’s house. As I entered the main foyer, I struggled to swallow. The party was massive; it was dark with flashing lights and wall-to-wall people grinding against each other to the music. How in the hell was I ever going to find her?

  I sent June a quick text.

  Larkin: Came inside to find you! Where R U?! I’m starting to freak!

  The house was enormous. I made my way through the sea of intoxicated youth—body odor and pheromones—until I’d searched the entire main level but still couldn’t find June anywhere. The longer I was there, the more unwanted attention I got and started to feel the familiar surge of panic rising up in my throat. Oh God no. Please not here. Anywhere but here.

  I paused at the foot of the stairs when I heard Ashley’s cackle. Like a nails on a chalkboard, my face twisted in audible pain. She stood in the kitchen with a sparkly tiara halo and a homecoming queen sash draped across her body, her fake entourage flocking around her like flies on shit. I began to dart up the stairs before any of them saw me.

  “Hey!” A male voice called out. Ignoring it, I ran up the stairs and raced down the hallway opening and closing doors looking for June. Most rooms were in the middle of third base and didn’t even notice my intrusion.

  “Wait! STOP! Please don’t run off again.” The voice yelled, chasing after me.

  Oh. My. God. I recognized that voice.

  I looked back down the hall as Landon reached the top of the stairs; he had a grin on his face that said he was ready to chase after me this time. “The football field. It was you. The emerald coat. I’ve been looking everywhere for—”

  I didn’t let him finish. I took off around the corner, down a few stairs, and dodged left down another hallway until I locked myself behind a large wooden door in complete darkness. I pressed my back against it, closing my eyes, trying to calm my choppy and ragged breath.

  My phone beeped loudly inside my pocket. I quickly pulled it out, cringing at the noise.

  June: Sorry! Melissa was puking her guts out! I’m on my way out to the car!

  I stood there trying not to cry, listening for Landon, unsure if I truly wanted to hide. I was motionless for a few moments longer until I knew he hadn’t followed me. I slid my hand up the wall flicking on the light. There were cataclysmic moments in life, some so rare and ugly that it would be a shame to not participate in the upheaval. A gift from karma herself, that bitch. I was in a bathroom and as my eyes adjusted to the incandescent lighting, there on the floor lay Dylan Chambers, passed out drunk. I almost walked away. I almost tried to be the better person, but instead I re-checked the lock on the door behind me and smiled.

  Larkin: I’ll be out in
5 min. DON’T leave the car and DON’T tell Melissa I’m inside!!

  June: Don’t worry, she’s passed out.

  I put my phone back into my coat pocket and nudged Dylan with my foot. He didn’t even flinch. Perfect. I knew whatever I did, it needed to be quick. I hurried inside the white marble shower, grabbed a leg razor, and rushed back to Dylan’s side. Adrenaline started pumping through my body, a syrupy concoction of revenge and hate. Never in a million years would I’ve thought I’d have the guts to do something like this. I rolled Dylan onto his back, his limbs as limp as a purity ring penis. I knelt on the floor by his face and whispered, “This is for June.”

  I started with his eyebrows, the blade glistening as I shaved off one and then the other. It’s amazing I didn’t cut him since my hands trembled.

  Dylan was one of the most attractive guys in our high school. He looked like a hot jock from the movies with longer blond hair that waved just enough to tuck behind his ears. But no matter how hot he may be, he was still a narcissistic bastard, infamous for annihilating girls’ hearts after taking their virginity; he publicly named his dick “The Cherry Grenade.” He’d get them wasted at a party and the next morning the girls’ would wake up alone and could vaguely even remember what happened. Of course they’d get a play by play the next day at school from the locker room gossip train. But most girls didn’t even need any alcohol to give up their V-card to him; he was rich, hot, and an all-star athlete that had girls lowering their morals, panties, and standards just to be with him.

  After shaving off his perfect eyebrows, I had to stop and admire him one last time before I took the razor and shaved off the top half of his head. I left him completely bald except for an old man ring of hair around the back from ear to ear; his blond locks piled on the floor like cut straw. At this point I was laughing hysterically to myself, wiping tears from my eyes. Good thing the music downstairs was loud with teeth-chattering bass.

  I began to strip him completely naked, ignoring a whiny girl banging on the door, complaining she had to go pee. Removing his socks and shoes were easy, but when I tried to pull off his coat, a large Ziploc bag of drugs fell out of his pocket. I froze. Even though I’d been around every type of pill and powder imaginable, I still would never get used to seeing them. I opened up the Ziploc bag and dumped all of the contents onto the bathroom floor. Marijuana, cocaine, Ecstasy, and a bag labeled R2, which must have been Rohypnol. Holy shit! And what made it worse was all of the bags were separated for him to distribute tonight. This time I didn’t think. I just reacted. Revenge was an ugly bitch and I was out for blood. I finished stripping him naked and grabbed some Chanel lipstick out of a drawer and wrote across his chest: I roofie virgins. I stood up and admired my work. Grabbing his phone from the bathroom floor I started taking pictures. Dylan Chambers, flaccid and naked, surrounded by drugs, looking like a plucked chicken.

  Then I just started flushing. I grabbed each bag and dumped all of it into the toilet. I couldn’t believe how much he was carrying, and I also couldn’t believe what I was doing. He would full-on murder me if he ever found out. For a second I thought about going to the police, but then I remembered his father was the city councilman so I was sure my name would be brought back into this as his scapegoat. Fuck that.

  After all the drugs were gone, with more urgency to get out of there, I wrote on the mirror: A picture is worth a thousand words. Then I grabbed his phone again to finish what he’d started.

  I wanted to punish him. I wanted him to suffer at the hands of his ruthless peers. I wanted him to be held accountable for what he’d so maliciously done to others. I wanted him to feel for just one second the pain and humiliation June had felt. And mostly, I wanted him to be paranoid every day for the rest of his goddamn life that this picture would come back to haunt him. So from his phone I sent this infamous picture to every single one of his contacts. His family. His friends. His co-workers. And then I shoved Dylan’s clothes into my coat, peeked out into the hallway, and ran like hell.

  I stood warming my hands by the fire I’d made, even though I wasn’t cold. The whole time I told the story Landon’s face was blank. At some point he put down the frame and pressed his hands up against the fireplace mantle, head hanging in disbelief between his arms.

  “That was you?” he whispered.

  “Yes … look, I know that—”

  Without another word Landon grabbed me slamming me up against the fireplace and crushed his lips to mine. It was urgent and reckless, completely devouring me. I’d lost my breath in pure shock from the dominating power that had me pinned up against the jagged stone.

  “You taste like cinnamon.” He groaned as he bit my lip and pressed himself against me.

  As our lips and tongues connected, I arched into him, snaking my hand up the back of his neck and running my fingers into his perfect dark hair. His thigh pressed in between my legs raising my dress so I could feel the fabric of his pants through my lace stockings. He was rough, handling me like I needed to be reminded that I could break and bleed and then in one split second it was over.

  “I shouldn’t have done that.” He pushed away from me quickly. Humiliated and panting, I stood there with flushed skin and swollen lips. I felt his contempt for his actions as he looked at me with narrowed eyes.

  “Why would you apologize?” I winced, blinking back tears of embarrassment.

  “Larkin, I tried to find you for weeks.”

  “What?”

  “It was you.” Confusion and frustration washed over his face as he searched through his memories and thoughts. “The emerald coat. THE FEATHER …” He grabbed my arm and ripped up my sleeve. “All along it was you!” He shook my arm and then threw it down, disgusted and betrayed. He began to pace my apartment. “I chased after you, but then you disappeared. I kept searching for you after that night on the football field and the night of homecoming. I finally saw you running down the stairs taking off into the night. I tried to find her, I mean you, but…” he drew in a breath “…you got away.” He stopped and turned to face me looking me directly in the eyes. “You consumed my thoughts. I tried finding you for … for … actually … I’m not sure if I ever stopped trying to find you,” he said in dismay.

  “Why?” That was all I could say.

  “I don’t know how to explain it,” he said, moving even farther away from me, sitting down on the couch. “I’ve never been able to explain it. Not even to myself.” He ran his hands over his face as he laughed. “Emerald green. In an array of winter coats, everywhere I went I looked and looked for that color.” I was stunned into silence. I never wore that coat again because Melissa had thrown up on it and ruined it.

  “Beautifully flawed,” he mumbled the words. I could almost picture us standing on the football field, his hand clasped in mine. “The meaning behind the black feather you talked about earlier was for me?”

  “Yes.” I let out a desperate breath. I was completely lost on what to do or say next. I’d just experienced the most confusing kiss of my life, and as the seconds ticked by I could feel him slipping even farther away.

  “How did I not put the pieces together?” He stood abruptly, shoving his hands through his hair. “Fuck!” He walked over to the door, grabbed his coat, looked back at me, and then slammed the door in my face.

  Still in Aspen, but not completely. The thread holding my stability has frayed and knotted into a noose. I can feel her tugging at it as I begin to drift away, reminding me that even in death she still pulls the strings. It’s been three months. If I find her justice, will I finally be cut free?

  Aspen¸ Colorado. Three months after Nancy’s death ...

  “Suite P ordered the luxury romance package, Larkin, so after you’re done booking Mrs. Astor’s ski lesson I’ll hook you up with all of the rose petals and chick libido enhancers so you can go set it up.”

  “Ugh.” I rolled my eyes at Marcus. “So you send Cupid herself to decorate the suite?”

  “No, I am sending the opposi
te of Cupid. You’re kind of like Eris, the Greek goddess of Chaos. Love binds things together, she rips them apart.”

  “Thanks for the punishment, Boss.” He hated when I called him that. Technically he was my manager, but he despised the label since he barely performed his job function at a mediocre level. Especially compared to an eighteen-year-old, since I was always picking up his slack. Marcus was too busy having sex with The Manor’s mistresses and getting high. I don’t blame the women; for a man in his early thirties, his Latin American accent and Rico Suave sex appeal was hard to resist. All he had to do was roll his R’s and bat his brown eyes and their panties and tips went right into his pocket.

  “I thought you owed me for covering your ass the other night with money-bags-owner Mr. Shultz?” I quipped. Technically, I owed him. If it weren’t for Marcus’s leniency and not firing me despite my many personal issues that interfered with work, I’d be working at the Quick -N- Tasty, flipping burgers in yellow coveralls making minimum wage.

  “You act like I forgot, cariño.” He acted hurt, grabbing his heart. His pout turned into a devious smile as he came into my personal space. “In my office there’s a box of kitchen appliances from the restaurant they were going to throw out. I thought you and June could use them when you finally get out of this hell hole,” he whispered into my ear so Mrs. Aster, who was walking back to the front desk, couldn’t hear.

  I smiled with excitement, and whispered back, “You sneaky pervert. June is going to be excited, even if they came from you!”

  “I’ll win her heart one day.” He winked. “Suite P is checking in tonight at eleven so make sure everything is set up by then.”