by Sunniva Dee
He does without a word. “Do you have me programmed in there?”
“Yes.” My grin grows.
He frowns, browsing through my contacts. “No, you don’t?”
“Check under ‘P.’”
I expect him to ask why, but instead he thumbs down and looks up, surprised, once he finds himself. “‘Perfect Dominic?’”
“Yep, Mr. Perfect. You’re Mr. Right and I’m Miss Wrong,” I giggle, although what the hell’s funny about that? A hint of a smile plays on those full lips of his again.
“Nah, you’re ‘Miss Drives-a-Guy-Crazy.’ I’ll be in touch.”
Dominic walks out of the room, leaving his massage equipment behind, and it’s instantly empty in here. I hold my breath and listen for the apartment door opening and closing. When I don’t hear anything, I let a glimmer of hope breathe inside of me, and sure enough, there he is, scorching me with his stare from the doorway again.
“Just…” he begins and strides over to me. Then, his mouth is on mine, sucking, baring teeth that press into my lips, opening for his tongue to caress mine in deliberate, heated strokes. “…this first,” he sighs.
When he lets go, I moan, because he keeps making things harder. I open my mouth to say something I’ll regret, but he lifts a finger to his mouth, crossing it. And he’s right. So, so right.
“Shhh, Pandora.”
Shhh.
19. GONE
PANDORA
As soon as Dominic’s car snarls to life outside, my three besties crowd the doorway, Mica with an open ice cream bucket held above her head like an offering. None of them ask questions at first, which makes me think they’ve listened in on every word. I flush, my heartbeat struggling to slow down.
Thankfully, Christian took off when Dominic left. God, I don’t want to imagine the embarrassment of a full-on ice cream pity party with a guy in my room too.
“Soo?” Mica says.
“So nothing. Dominic has to go back to his hometown to take care of family stuff. Which is good, because now I can… not obsess over him.”
“Ha!” Mica shouts. “She admits it! You’re obsessed with him. And hey, he’s nice and freaking gorgeous too, so I get it. I would’ve felt the same way if it weren’t for…” She trails off, finding Destiny’s gaze for one furtive second.
Shannon and I exchange a look, but we won’t be putting them on the spot this time either. I wonder, though, how oblivious they think we are.
“So what’s the plan? You moving after him?” Mica waggles her brows.
“The plan is: I’ll be studying like a crazy-person, in bed until I’m well, and then when I’m up, I won’t party, and then I’ll pass all these classes like a boss.”
The three of them wear identical, sad expressions of the type circus clowns need facial paint to pull off. Next, they dip their spoons into the giant bucket of ice cream simultaneously and chew away.
I burst out laughing. “No, watch me. I can do this.”
“Uh-huuuuh,” they exclaim in unison, and it’s in moments like these that I realize we spend too much time together.
“Enough already. You’re the creepily synchronized triplets.”
I’m interrupted by the doorbell, and Shannon heads off to answer. A moment later, she exclaims, “Unbelievable,” from the living room. “Pandora, can you walk?”
“What? Who is it?”
I need to pee, I think to myself. Bad.
“You won’t believe this. Get your butt out of bed and come see for yourself.” Somehow, I have no caring friends left. They all took off at “unbelievable,” and I’m left to cautiously rise on my own. None of them have buzzed the visitor in yet when I join them in the den. They haven’t even gone out on the balcony to greet whoever’s below. All they do is stare out through the little side windows… from behind the curtain!
“Wow, are you guys scared?” I ask.
“No, seriously. Check this out,” Mica says.
On the street below stands an arrogantly erect man in black leathers. Strands of silky black hair bend out from underneath a black motorcycle helmet, and he’s removing his gloves one fingertip at a time. Once they’re off, he slaps them on top of the seat of the enormous Ducati next to him.
I swallow. What am I supposed to do now?
“He’s here for you, Pan,” Shannon says.
“Dude’s, like, some scary hot model from hell or something,” Mica supplies, and Destiny snorts out a laugh.
“Hey, the leathers are intimidating,” I begin tentatively, and we all watch as he removes his helmet, shakes thick hair that glints in the sun—
SUN? Finally!
Then, I forget about the weather and openly gawk at the features he reveals as he tilts his head back and locks my gaze through the glass.
I haven’t seen Leon in daylight without his helmet before, and he might just be the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen. Judging by the triple intake of breath around me, I’m not alone in my assessment.
“Hot damn,” Mica bursts out for all of us.
Smooth skin under a dusting of stubble accentuates sparkling eyes. They seem to change color according to his mood, and today they glitter when he holds my gaze.
Leon puckers his mouth almost imperceptibly. Is he trying to hold back a grin at my expense? Either way, he’s enjoying my shock.
I decide not to give him more to laugh about. Winding the robe tighter around me, I swing the balcony door open and step out.
“Pandora,” Leon greets me.
His eyes dart swiftly over me, from my tangled hair, my surely pale face and otherwise more than messy appearance, before they land back on my eyes. “I wanted to check in on you after yesterday. How are you feeling?”
His words are sweet, caring, and yet there’s an undertone of something else, like he’s playing a game. It’s just the tiniest bit eerie.
“Tell him you’re busy!” Shannon hisses from behind me, but I ignore her.
“I’m much better, thanks.”
“Well enough to go for a ride?” he asks, making a careless gesture toward the shiny beast at his side. Destiny, Shannon, and Mica all flank me on the balcony now, but his attention remains fully on me.
I let out a chuckle. “No, thank you, I don’t think so. Dominic just finished massaging out the knots in my back, and I’m on painkillers like crazy. Plus I need to study.”
“I see. So…” Leon’s eyebrows lift lightly, enough to vanish under the bluish black bangs teasing down over his lashes. “Has he made you his girlfriend yet?” He has a playful tone to his voice, but his eyes remain serious. Though the question is strange to me, I don’t mind answering.
“Nope, he’s a good friend is all.”
Shannon nudges my side, the tip of her nose brushing my ear as she whispers, “Stop telling him stuff about you. Remember what Christian said? He wasn’t kidding, Pan.”
I almost ignore her because sometimes it’s exhausting when everyone tells you what to do.
Leon’s stare traps me for another moment. For a fraction of a second, I read intense intrigue on his features. Then, the spark dulls into the cool, unreadable beauty he usually radiates at Smother.
“Next time,” he murmurs, alluding to the motorcycle ride, and I smile.
“Maybe so.”
“Catch you at the club, Pandora.”
Leon isn’t waiting for my answer. He sets the helmet back on and tightens the chinstrap. None of us move until his gloves are back on and he’s straddling the bike. He revs it, and without another glance in my direction, he speeds off down the street.
“You’re not going there tonight, are you?” Destiny says, and of course Shannon shakes her head, agreeing wholeheartedly with Destiny on this.
“No, don’t worry. I meant what I said earlier—today’s a full-on study day. I’ll be in bed with m
y meds and my books,” I state firmly. The sigh of relief around me is almost offensive.
“Not to say I’m never going.”
“Whatever, you need an X-ray, remember?”
Ha, they did listen in on Dominic and my conversation.
“Yeah. X-ray. Then, we’ll see. I can go out without partying.”
The X-ray shows that Dominic was right. I have no fractures, and all I need is to be careful—and use enough medicine to function for a while. I can’t wait to taper off of them, though, because they turn me into a zombie.
Despite the meds, I’m adamant I’ll do everything right this week. I pick up the phone every time Mom calls, I complete the work required for the coursework I’m taking, and I even get my butt to class on time. On Wednesday, Scheuermann’s stranglehold has loosened enough for me to return to the gym.
I worry about going to the Elysium Spa while Dominic is gone, though. On Monday, I chicken out from my appointment because whoever attended to me wouldn’t have his knowledge about my back. What if the pain returns?
It only takes until Tuesday before Dad calls me. I guess Mom checked in with the spa and discussed the missed appointment with him. “Helicopter parents,” I overheard an adviser at the college mumble about them the other day. I couldn’t agree more.
“Pandora, I’ve spoken with the owner, Miss Geraldine Walker,” he says after berating me for not going yesterday. I think of how I’d rather he not spend his energy on this—on me, really.
“And?” I say.
“I had a good, long chat with her this morning. Miss Walker understands the gravity of your condition, how important the treatment you receive is, and how you, despite our insistence that you start with real physiotherapy, have opted to stay with her business because of her employee, the physiotherapy student who treats you.”
I sigh and sit down on a barstool at the breakfast bar. On occasions like these, I brace myself for one of his droning professor speeches. Nothing can make him less long-winded.
“I drove to my office so I could fax her the latest report, including the X-rays of your back…”
I leave the phone on the counter and dip into the fridge for sandwich fixings.
How come I’m the only one who eats bologna?
“Pandora. PANDORA!”
One long step back, and I’ve got the phone again. “Dad, I’m here.”
“Well, when did I say your new appointment is?”
“Tomorrow?” Sure, I’m guessing, but he’s zealous and he wouldn’t have let Miss Walker postpone me.
“At five p.m., Pandora. Be there.”
“Yes, sir.”
“She’ll take you herself.”
I haven’t spoken much with my father lately. Since I moved out, Mom only calls in the big guns when I don’t pay attention to her. By the time Dad and I hang up, something about the gravelly pitch he used throughout the entire conversation has my mind rushing back to less… free times.
The panic from the night he removed the light bulb in my closet rushes back in. Hours and hours in the darkness, with no escape in sight. Not a sliver of light seeping in, all because I’d gone to an R-rated movie.
I slap my sandwich together, mustard and mayo gluing the bologna to the bread, and cheese sticking out mingled with lettuce on both sides. A big bite slides down my throat, pressing the panic down with it.
“Milk?” Destiny asks. I hadn’t seen her approach. From the look in her eyes, she knows who I’m fresh off the phone with. I shake my head and meet her gaze.
“Do you remember the night we went to our first R-rated movie? I don’t even remember the name of it.”
“Yeah,” she laughs, but it’s a sad laughter. “Fifteen minutes in, your father came and marched you out of there.”
“That was the night he took the closet light bulb,” I say, blinking to keep the tears from springing to my eyes.
“I just—” My hands rake into my hair, tight against the scalp, and stay there, grounding me. “Ah… Not sure why I’m thinking about this now.”
“Because you just spoke with him? Can I ask you something, though, something I’ve wondered about?” Destiny sounds torn, and I wonder if I’ll want to answer.
“Shoot.”
“I remember your closet light was out a lot after that. Did—” She hesitates, and I squeeze my eyes shut, preparing the one word I need in reply to what she’s about to ask.
“Did he ever allow another light bulb in your closet?”
“No.”
The dam bursts a little bit when the “no” leaves my lips. I start sobbing like an idiot and take off to my room. Of course, Destiny follows me. I’m just happy no one else is home at the moment, or this would’ve turned into another pity fest.
“You’ll be okay,” she comforts me. “I wish you realized what a dick your dad is.”
I’m choking on mucus—so disgusting. I grab a Kleenex and blow my nose loudly. “What’s so crazy is I’m more afraid of the dark now than I was back at the house.”
“You are?”
“Yeah, at home, my closet was the only place I’d be in total darkness. Since my bedroom window faced the driveway, I wasn’t scared; whenever I needed to, I’d let the lampposts shine in through a crack in my curtains so I could fall asleep. But here in Deepsilver, I can count on one hand—mm, a couple of hands—the times I’ve slept through the night.” My stomach prepares for the early stages of laughter. The repetitive contractions speed up and grow until my inane chuckling fills the space around us.
Destiny isn’t easily scared. “When’s that?”
“When I’m drunk or…”
“Or?”
“When I’m with Dominic.”
20. HOME
DOMINIC
While I’m waiting for my plane at the airport, I get a hold of the missus on the phone. “Dominic, I’m warning you,” she says, and my laugh is mirthless.
“Ger, you warn all you want, keep the damn position open for me or not, because my grandma’s a hundred times more important. She fucking needs me, okay?”
“No need to swear at me, Dominic,” she clips out.
I hold out the boarding pass at the gate. The employee swipes it and swats me through. “And I need someone to take on Pandora Cancemi,” I barrel on. “Don’t know how long I’ll be gone. It depends.”
She huffs, irrationally offended. “When it comes to my customers, don’t tell me what to do. I’ve been running this business since you were in—”
“Pandora can’t have some newbie on her back, get it? Her dad will sue your ass if you mess up.” I might be bluffing, but really, her father sounds like he’d be capable.
Geraldine is quiet for an instant, absorbing the threat. Then she changes her tactic and turns disturbingly motherly. “What about your studies, sweetie?”
“‘Sweetie’ now? You’ve called me ‘Stud’ before and ‘Hot Stuff,’ but “Sweetie?’”
“Dominic!”
“Hey, and ‘Penis.’”
I’m pushing it, but she deserves this. She might’ve been my “benefactor” for a year, but she’s fake as shit sometimes. Generally, I don’t care, because she’s a fair employer, pay-wise. For old times’ sake, I give her a straight answer.
“Anyways. I’m in contact with my professors about the classes. Two of them are aware of my grandma’s situation, and we have a standing agreement that, worst case, I’ll study long-distance for a while.”
“And the others?”
I get a vibe from her that she’s grasping at straws. Whether it’s for work or pleasure, I’m not sure. Not that I care at the moment.
“There’s just one more professor, Ger. I’ll check with the registrar’s office on Monday to find out if a doctor’s note will do. I’ve emailed the prof already.”
“You’d want to wait and f
ind out, right?”
She’s fifteen years older than me, but she’s so immature, in so much denial I want to stone her through the phone. “Geraldine?”
“What?”
“You’re unbelievable.”
Alan waits for me in luggage claim—alone—which immediately pisses me off. Why the hell isn’t he with Grandma if he’s off work today? I swallow the tirade coming on and ask how she’s doing instead.
My uncle looks unkempt. Stubble sprouts from his face and not in a fashionable way. Wrinkles snake a path across the fabric of his shirt, ending in untucked shirttails that reach almost to the faded pant knees. Apparently, Alan wears the same stuff over and over nowadays. He’s got money, so I’m not sure what the deal is.
Even the girls in my high school used to admire my uncle, but somehow I can’t picture him being in danger of attracting jailbait anymore. In the six months since I was last home, dude’s gotten old. The grey strands adorning the top of his head haven’t seen a barber in months, and they contrast with the balding center in a way that causes my eyebrows to shoot up.
As he leans over and drags the car door closed for me—something about the lock jamming—I meet his gaze for an instant. Irises the same color as mine and Mom’s meet red-rimmed eyelids.
“You stopped sleeping, Alan? You look like shit.”
He chuckles and shakes his head. “She’s a handful, your grandmother. I don’t call you every time, kid.”
“What do you mean?”
“She goes bonkers every day now,” he says, and I’m not listening to his bullshit anymore.
My little lady meets me at the door, eyes shining with happiness. With a hand awkwardly covering her mouth, she’s wearing a pretty dress with some sort of ribbon print all over it.
“Grandma,” I grin. I hook around her shoulders and tow her to me. She’s thinner, frailer, than I remember.
“My boy—you’ve gotten so biiig,” she mumbles into her cupped palm. Her pitch climbs on the last syllable, like she can’t believe her own eyes. I’m the size I’ve been for the last four years, no change. I wish I could say the same about her.