Martin agreed to tell the whole story against Jill in court, because he really did love her and the fact that she was using him broke his heart. In the heat of that showdown, Denver said that they both loved Danielle. I’m guessing that when Jill confessed, it set Martin off.
Now, we’re back inside, all the doors are locked and all of the curtains are shut. Once the house is secure, he comes over to me and puts his hands on my arms.
“This has been one crazy day,” he says.
“I don’t really want to be here any longer than I have to be,” I say. “And to be honest, I feel like I might need some space. So much has happened, Denver. Everything with Jill…I can’t tell what’s real from what isn’t.”
His knowing eyes hold me, and then he brings me into a hug, his lips pecking my ear. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Tara. I understand. Just know that everything I told you was true. Don’t let the lies get to you. Trust me, Tara.”
When he pulls away, I want to give in. I want to go upstairs and make love until the crack of dawn, sleeping the next day off. I want to act like this never happened. But it did, and I can’t ignore it. Just like when I made love to him both times, I can’t control my emotions, and I start to cry.
Now that we aren’t making love, the sight breaks his heart. “Please, baby,” he said. “You have to see that now everything is different. Today hasn’t been life altering for just you. It’s now a new beginning for me, too.”
I nod, but I can’t speak because my voice will crack, which is only going to make me cry more. I just have to go. I don’t even have my car here. Looking at the door, I refuse to turn my head toward him, hoping he’ll take the hint.
“I’ll call you a cab, Tara,” he says. “It will take you to wherever you want. When you’re ready to talk, call me.”
I nod my head and go toward the door. With the handle in my fingertips, I twist it and pull the door slightly. I want to say ‘goodbye’ or ‘see you soon’ but I can’t bring myself to, so I just bring it open all the way and step out.
***
I sit on the stoop for what I guess is twenty minutes before the luxury driver pulls up. I look in the tinted windows before walking up, because I am not going to take a vehicle sponsored by Denver D. Phillips. On the dashboard sits a Gogo sign, so I know that he at least thought about me enough to get a public service.
On the way to Burbank I just stare out the window. I don’t want to replay a single thing until I can lock myself in my apartment and rethink things. The driver doesn’t speak a word to me, and I think it’s because when he looks back at me he can see that my eyes are baggy, weighed down. Maybe Denver told him that I wasn’t much of a talker. He’s probably a good tipper.
The driver drops me off and I walk up the long stone path to my gate where I punch in my code. The interior of my complex is one big, gated court facing in on itself. It’s not much, but right now it’s all that I have. Taking the steps up to my apartment, I smell the familiar stench of Mrs. Almadi’s spiced curry, and the college student next door’s reefer. When I unlock my door, I take in the aroma of my place, which I haven’t been in in days—lilac and coriander. I like the soapy, clean smell that they give me every time I come back.
Even though it’s old school, I still have a landline, and it’s full of messages. I don’t even want to bother going through them. I scan through the caller ID and see that most of them are from Dominic, some from my parents and friends. The others are bill and loan collectors. Nobody I really need to call back right now.
I double-check that my apartment is locked tight. After having a gun in your face, there’s nothing like returning to an empty apartment in a not-too-great section of Southern California. The first thing I do is plug my phone in, and then I take a hot shower. When I come back, I see that Denver has tried to reach me. He doesn’t have my landline, but I’m actually excited to see that he’s blown up my cell with texts and calls. They’re all positive, filtered with different ways to tell me he loves me without wearing the word down to nothing.
Right now, I have the upper hand because he knows that my phone has been off, so I text him that I’m going to bed, I’m shutting my phone off, and I’ll get at him when I’m ready.
Deep down I want to send him every heart or kissy emoji I can find, but I have to act hard for a night and make him think I don’t even care. Really, though, I care a hell of a lot.
In the comfort of my own bed I finally close my eyes, feeling protected. It’s funny that even the “safety” of a billionaire feels less guarded than my own, in-need-of-washing sheets. This smell just reminds me of me. Before all of this, I spent so much time with Dominic that my own apartment basically became a place where I store and dump stuff off.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll get around to cleaning. I plan on sleeping for as long as possible. If I didn’t see the police take Martin and Jill away with my own eyes, I probably wouldn’t be able to fall asleep right now. I wouldn’t be able to imagine Denver’s smile, the way he stood in front of a gun for me, or how his eyes rolled back when we came together.
Drifting to sleep, I hold my phone as close as it will go while staying plugged in. I go through all of Denver’s texts—they’re like letters in time, telling me how amazing I am. How he wants to give me the world. How I changed his world.
This is the stuff dreams are made of, Tara, I tell myself. Suddenly my phone lights up and he sends me a picture of himself, lying in the purple sheets where we made love earlier. The text bubble simply reads “wish u were here”. It’s his face, lip pouty, eyebrows scrunched in—and those deep, brilliant blue eyes.
My man.
I take one of myself, but I don’t use the flash like he did. I let it remain dark and slightly blurred. With a little time I’ll let myself come into focus, and hopefully soon there will be room in the frame for Denver, too.
THE END
Bonus Story 37 of 40
The Alien Twins
There are only a few things of which I’m certain anymore. I can practically count the facts I’m totally sure of, on one hand.
My name is Angie Lai.
The year is thirty ninety something… I think. I lost track a while back, so I can’t be one hundred percent sure on that.
The Nya war has been going on for years, now and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to end anytime soon.
I’m pissed off.
To be fair, it’s not so much the war that’s pissing me off, it’s everything else. The war is all that I know. The alien race invaded Earth when I was only a baby – wanting our planet because they destroyed their own – so surviving it isn’t a problem as far as I’m concerned.
It’s just the hiding that’s doing my head in. The constant need to keep out of view. I’m not even hiding from the Nya so much. Them, I can handle. Them, I can face. Sure they might be able to shape shift and disguise themselves as humans, but I can always pick out the telltale signs that they aren’t. The blueish hue to their lips, the odd shape to their waists, their extremely pale irises.
They might have gotten the general human shape right, but they haven’t quite achieved it exactly. I’ve been on my own long enough, survived with no one else to rely on, I know what I’m looking out for, it’s no issue to me.
No, it’s the humans that I’m trying to keep away from.
My mum died in the early days of the war, so I’ve only ever had my very charismatic father around. Growing up, I idolized him; I thought that he was the best thing on the planet.
So did everyone else.
Now, he leads a pretty big colony of people, trying to fight the Nya, and everyone hangs on his every word. It took me a while, but as I got into my late teens I started to see him for what he really is.
A control freak, drunk on power. He preaches hate like it’s normal, turns people into venomous killing machines, then he sits back and just waits for hell to unleash.
I don’t like his methods, and to be honest I don’t like him anym
ore.
It took me a while to get up the confidence, but I eventually ran away, left the colony, and I’m pretty sure that he’s been after me ever since. It’s been years now, and I’m still fearful of getting caught. But I’m better by myself, I know I am. I don’t need him, or any of them. I can’t go back, not now, not ever.
I never fit in with the humans anyway. I’ve always been an outsider. This will only make that worse.
I remember the humans telling me about the old days, before the war, and that world seems so alien to me – like something I could never survive in. I often torture myself wondering what it’ll be like if this war ever ends, and the Nya leave.
How will I survive that? I just don’t think I can.
Here, killing aliens, by myself, this is what I’m made for. This is all that I know, and all that I’ll ever be.
*****
I’ve spent the last few days settled in an oversized abandoned warehouse, but I haven’t felt fully comfortable for a while. I much prefer smaller, safer spaces to sleep in. I like to be able to feel every wall around me if possible, to ensure that I’m definitely alone.
I only got stuck here because I became convinced that I was being chased, and it was the only place I could hide in. Then, I remained here because I’d become fatigued and weary. I stayed because I have nothing else to do.
But now it’s time to make my move once more. I’ve run out of food supplies, so I can’t stay for much longer anyway – even if I wanted to.
This is the hardest part of survival – the constant need for food. It always comes down to food.
I pack up my belongings, looking forward to getting back on the road, where I feel the most like myself. As I chuck everything into my meager backpack, I manage to catch a glimpse of myself in a cracked window, and I sigh in disappointment.
I look a mess.
Washing isn’t top priority of course, but I prefer to do so when I can. I hate it when it’s been a while – my long auburn hair becomes matted, which is why I have it pinned back as much as possible. On top of that, my blue eyes look more than a little tired, and my clothing has been ripped somewhere along the line. I’ll have to try and find something else to wear at some point, which is just another job that I could do without. It’s difficult to find clothing when it hasn’t been produced for over a decade. Luckily, I’m slim so I can fit into pretty much anything. Too big is better than too small.
I get so lost in looking at myself, at internally criticizing my appearance, that for a split second I forget all about my surroundings. My ears drop their constantly alerted state, my hypersensitivity dulls, and my eyes concentrate only on me. For the first time in a very long time, I drop my guard, and that turns out to be the biggest mistake I could ever make. It may only be for a second, but it’s enough to change absolutely everything.
Bang!
I feel a blinding pain emanating from the left side of my head as my body collapses to the ground.
What’s going on? What’s happening?
I’m so stunned that it takes me a while to realize that this is bad… really bad. A tight knot of panic forms around my heart, and begins to race through my veins, but it’s too late. I’m losing it – sight, consciousness, everything.
Then, I’m left with an everlasting blackness…
***
Huh?
I try to prize my eyes open, but the white light is too blinding for me to be able to see. My head is aching painfully, and I cannot recall where I am, or what I’m doing – a prospect that I find absolutely terrifying.
What’s the last thing I can remember?
I try to think back, to pick up anything, but for some reason my memory is all flickers of nothing.
I finally manage to take a look around, just to find myself in surroundings that I don’t recognize at all. It’s dirty, dusty, tiny… just like the sort of places I normally hide in, but there’s one big difference. There are bars keeping me in.
I’ve been locked up!
The first face that comes to mind is that of my dad. He’s finally caught me! A terrifying panic overcomes me at the thought of having to see his face again. After all this time, how will he be?
I force myself into a standing position, my legs aching with the weight of my body, and I slowly stagger my way to the bars, wondering how easy they would be to break free from. I might be a good fighter, but that’s because I’m fast, not necessarily strong. Certainly not tough enough to even begin to dent metal.
I’m stuck here, with no damn escape. After all this time, all these years, one second of distraction and I managed to get myself caught.
“Hey,” I call out weakly, to the guard standing in front of my cell. “What’s going on?”
He spins slowly to face me, revealing something unexpected, something that makes my heart sink. A blueish hue, oddly shaped waist, pale irises.
I haven’t been caught by humans. The Nya have got me.
Somehow, this is so much worse. Humans – although a race that I don’t really fit in with – can understand me. I could manipulate them, try to get some help. The Nya have their own language. Over time, some of them have managed to mimic a bit of English, but never good enough to communicate with.
“Crap.” I mutter to myself, my mind whizzing at a hundred miles an hour, trying to find a solution of some kind.
“You… are… Angie Lai,” I suddenly hear, coming from this Nya, sounding stilted – but far more English than any other Nya I’ve ever heard before.
My eyes snap up to him, trying to get a good look at him, to attempt to judge whether or not he can really hear me.
“I…” I start, but then he continues trying to talk.
“Your father is Nigel Lai,” he continues, seemingly building up his confidence.
“Yes, you… you can understand me?” I gasp, completely confused as to why any of the Nya would bother to learn the language of the race that they’re trying to wipe out. It seems like a massive waste of time to me.
“Yes. A little. I’ve been learning, trying to further my translator.”
“Translator?” I ask, shaking my head feeling completely confused.
“Some of us, not all, want to talk with humans. We aren’t all… for the fighting.” As he speaks slowly, trying his best to think of the right words, I take a good look at him. It seems that he really is telling the truth – I can tell by the extra effort that he’s made to look like us. The others have done so half-heartedly, not really needing to make too much effort because there are so few humans left, but this alien has sculpted what most would consider the perfect man. Tall, dark, very handsome, with a strong, muscular body. Of course, he cannot do anything about the telltale signs, but somehow, in an odd way, they manage to make him even more attractive.
I suddenly shake my head, realizing that I’m staring at him in a weirdly lustful way. This is the enemy, a Nya. He might look human, but he isn’t. I can’t allow myself to get fooled by that, or it might just be the death of me.
“Yes,” another voice bursts out from behind him, as a figure steps out from the shadow. “Some want peace.”
The man standing behind the guard looks exactly like him. Identical, as if they’re twins. I have to glance between them a few times, to check that I’m not seeing things.
“You… and you…” I’m aware that these shape shifters can do what they like, but in my injured, slightly bewildered state, this is almost too much to handle.
“We look the same… like the images of brothers we have seen from your world.”
“Yes.” I pant, feelings a little faint. “Like twins.” Are they twins? Or even brothers? Is that a thing in their race? I suddenly realize that the Nya know a lot more about humans, than we do about them.
*****
As the day’s pass, I find myself spending a lot of time with the alien twins – Wrotg and Arlaf – learning more about them, and their race.
The twins are part of an underground movement that has been
working hard to undermine the war efforts, wanting to put an end to it. They are the reason that after the initial massacre, a lot of us are still here. The Nya in charge believe that the humans are fighting back, outwitting them at every turn, but in reality we have nothing to do with it. If it weren’t for these aliens, we would all be gone by now.
According to Wrotg, many Nya were convinced to take part in this takeover with the promise that there was hardly anyone on Earth, and that they would live peacefully alongside us – a concept that quickly fell apart. Now, they want to take themselves to a barren planet, to start again, to try and rebuild from there, but since Earth is such a viable planet, it’s going to take more than persuasion to change the leader’s minds.
It also turns out that I haven’t been quite as clever with my hiding as I thought either. The Nya have been keeping an eye on me the entire time, just waiting for the moment that I would be needed.
And it seems like that moment has come.
Apparently, the colony that my dad is in charge of is much bigger now, and much more filled with a hateful need for revenge. He’s poisoning the minds of everyone, leading them into a war that they cannot win.
Something about him has the Nya leaders nervous, so they have kidnapped me as a bargaining tool.
I listen intently as Wrotg tells me of this plan.
“They think he will give up… for you.”
“I don’t know,” I gasp, throwing my hand up to my head. “I don’t know if he will, it’s been so long.”
“The leaders won’t see that. We view time differently to you. To us, it hasn’t been long at all. Our days are the equivalent of your months; our years are approximately eight of yours. Our planet moved differently to this one, meaning we see time in a completely different way.”
I don’t know what to do with this information. I would gladly allow myself to be used if I believed it would stop my dad from getting a bunch of people killed, but I really don’t believe that it will.
Two Wolves For Lizette Page 131