by Sarah Black
“I didn’t see anything.” Somehow, she knows I’m not blushing due to the naked run through the parking lot. It’s like she can see right through me. This bitch knows I’m lying.
But what am I really lying about? What did I see?
I bite my lip, wondering if I should tell her or keep it to myself. “Aja.” Her name is almost a whine.
“I swear, if you don’t tell me what you saw, then I’m gonna sic cousin Murray on your ass, and you know how much he wants your ass.” She flops on the floor with me, although her flop is more or less like a graceful glide to the small area rug beside me. Prince comes out of his hiding spot with a roaring purr before he headbutts Aja.
Both of them stare me down. Aja’s perfectly tweezed brow rises up and down, and Prince, well, he just purrs. Reminding me all too well of a certain man. I blush deeper.
“Fine.” I rub my forehead. Where do I even begin with this?
“I want all the juicy details,” Aja practically purrs.
“Tell me something first.” I wait until she nods her head before continuing, “Don’t you find it weird that I’ve never met Valentino, and he demands that I review every single gig they book?” What makes me so special?
“Why you complaining? Where I’m sitting, you need to eat. Speaking of, where the hell is my food?” Again, she pulls her phone from her bra, checking her app for our pizza delivery. “Ugh, twenty minutes. Lazy bastards. We got time. Lay it on me.”
“Not weird to you? At all?” I rub my arms, feeling a small chill in the air at the oddity that is Valentino. “I didn’t even know until last night what he looked like.”
“Yeah, and you had the chance to see what all of him looked like and you wasted it. Shame on you.” I feel like I’m being scolded by her mother, their tone is similar enough to cause me to blush.
“I don’t know, a guy like that running out naked into a parking lot? No matter what he looked like down there, I’m not sure it’s something I want any part of.” I rub my temples, the ache deepening. He was naked, wasn’t he?
“Why, because he ain’t afraid to run off naked?” She sounds genuinely curious.
“Because if I looked and then I showed up tonight, then it would be personal. I don’t do personal anymore, Aja. I can’t. No matter how that person makes me feel.” I realize my slip just as the words fall out of my mouth. The past thickens around us like a fog where nightmares swirl and reach with clawed fingers.
“Mm-hmm. I see, I see. You want his dick, but you afraid to ride it. Don’t know where that baton has been, if ya know what I mean.” Again with the brow wiggle.
Thankfully, the sound of my buzzer breaks this awful conversation. Literally saved by the bell. I hop up far too fast and press the intercom. “Who is it?”
“Russo’s delivery.” My mouth practically waters at the name.
“Be right down.” I let go, turning to Aja.
“Don’t look at me, I already paid for it, so you can run your skinny ass down the steps for the food.” She cackles to herself, a rounded belly laugh that borders on villainous. “Work for it, boo.”
I don’t even bother with shoes as I fly down my steps and to the outer door, which I prop open with a stopper. As soon as that glass door opens, the scent of pizza drifts to me, my belly grumbling in demand. More like squeezing me violently for starving it.
The kid standing before me can’t be more than high school aged. His pimply face and wild, red hair curls from beneath the bottom of his black cap. Dimples give him that childish appearance, and yet his green eyes flare with interest, instantly making me feel uncomfortable.
“Aja Davis? Sign here.” He flings the receipt at me and I scrawl Aja’s name on the dotted line, noting she even left a tip. A shitty tip, one I quickly fix with an extra fiver. No wonder they were slow, we’re going to have to have a talk about that twenty percent.
“Thanks.” I snatch my pizza, ready to dig in, when a hand lands on my shoulder. My body instantly recoils.
“You’re Penny, that writer.” I swing my gaze and my body away. This conversation is sending up red flags that make me feel paranoid. Considering my face isn’t in the paper, ever, and that receipt was in Aja’s name, he shouldn’t know who I am. Besides, all I write about is up and coming musicians or disc jockeys.
“Who?” I play stupid, even though I have a terrible poker face. Or so I’ve been told. My nostrils flare and my lips perk up.
He gives me a toothy grin that raises every hair on my body. “Yeah, you’re her.”
“Sorry, kid, food calls.” I hop backwards, knocking the stopper out and kicking the door closed. His fingers get caught in the door, but I’m no fool. I press harder until he yanks them free, shaking them with a sneer on his face. I’m thankful that door is bulletproof and practically impossible to break through. It may be the only bit of security, considering Aja climbed in through the window.
I shake off the weird kid and dart upstairs as the outer door closes.
“What the hell took you so long?” Aja snatches the pizza from my hand, a new bottle of wine open and the other sitting in the recycling bin.
“Some kid tried to follow me up.” I shake my head again, unable to get rid of the feeling he gave me—a creepy, oily vibe that coats my skin. “I’ll report him.”
“Naw, I’ll do it, it’s in my name.” Uncaring of the heat, Aja stuffs a slice in her mouth, moaning in pleasure. “Alright, woman, you have wasted enough of my time,” she says between mouthfuls. “Spill it, spill it all.”
I chew slower, savoring the veggie pizza with tomatoes and peppers and onions. “Alright.” For the remainder of the night, I gave Aja every juicy detail, chasing away the murky presence of that kid as I relay exactly what Valentino’s ‘O’ face looks like.
At least the one I dreamt about, because as I dive further and further into the story, my head aches more and more.
4
Paws dig into my chest with the ferocity of a panther, while a deep rumble keeps my blood pumping amidst a hangover. My ears swish and pound, the thumping heartbeat too loud as it threatens to blow out my ear drums.
“Meow.”
A jackhammer thuds through me with Prince’s heavy roar as bile rises in my throat. Brushing him away, I roll to my side, my head swimming like a hurricane over an ocean.
I glance at the two bottles of wine sitting on the counter, and the one I know is lying in the bin, and regret shimmies through me. Although I know Aja killed two of those, the hangover is real. Squinting against the pain and direct sunlight streaming in through my blinds, I stumble to the bathroom. More like I crawl and vomit into the toilet, resting my head against the porcelain goddess as a fresh wave of utter vertigo takes me out. Bile rises once more until nothing sits in my system.
Inside, a slice of pain sparks like an incessant and irritating itch. A bloom of something that crests just at the edges of my awareness. I just can’t put a finger on it.
“Meow.”
“Shhh, Prince.” His roar downgrades to a gentle one each time my stomach expels the contents of the night before. “I didn’t even drink that much.”
Aja killed that second bottle while I sipped what was left of my glass. I do my best to add up my wine math. But any way I roll it, it just doesn’t make sense. My body rolls to the floor, my cheek resting against the cool tile.
Like the prince he is, my black cat primly sits at the door with his little nose in the air and, I swear, a delicate brow raise. Judging me. I’m being judged by a cat. Nothing in this world is sacred anymore.
“As soon as I’m able to, I’ll feed you.” His little tail twitches then rises indignantly before he prances out. Leaving me to my porcelain throne.
My body aches as though I spent hours in the gym, then just for fun went for a run. Shivers rack my body and my teeth chatter, drumming old fillings against each other.
“Flu, I’ve gotten the flu in the summer.” My head spins and a throbbing pain kicks in the back of my head. I know
this isn’t the flu. It never is. I’ll have to ride it out until I can bat it back.
My apartment door bangs with someone’s explosive fists. Each strike reverberates through my body, a lash of a proverbial whip to my head.
My door slams open—either it’s a break-in or my little sister got fed up with waiting, since she’s the only one with a key. At least she uses the front door, while Aja uses the window. Even if she chose to punch said door.
“I swear to the moon and back, Penny, if you aren’t dead then I’m going to kill you myself!” Her anger vibrates with each of her heavy footsteps. I close my eyes against the onslaught of senses. Unable to move or control the bile that seems to be never-ending. Only this time I can’t move, and by the time her footsteps reach me, I’ve puked in my hair.
“Shh.” I attempt to find words, but they fail me.
“Penny!” Her voice in the small room sends yet another ice pick to my soul. “What did you do? Did you take something?” Uncaring, she kneels in my vomit, lifting me with a strength I didn’t even know she possessed. Cooler porcelain embraces me moments before water thumps on my skin.
I groan, avoiding the painful spray of water. “Sick,” I grumble.
“Right, you believe you’re sick, of course.” She turns the water off, ignoring my lie, opting for a rag that she presses against my neck. “Why didn’t you call me?”
“Just woke up.” I slump farther in the tub, my clothing wet and chilling my body further. Everywhere it touches aches and burns. “Flu.”
Poppy brushes my hair back, her light blue eyes sorrowful. “The flu,” she repeats with a shake of her head, her hot pink hair swishing around her head. “Is this why you didn’t show up last night?”
I chuckle, the sound forced as my body shakes. “No. Grab meds?” I’m forced to use monosyllables as I struggle to get myself under control.
“Here.” Poppy pulls out a vial from her leather jacket, the tight material hugging her body. I don’t even have time to let her know that her outfit is far too hot for the summer before she shoves the contents down my throat.
Warmth spreads through my body, relaxing every single limb. My eyes flicker in contentment as my body stops shaking and the chills abate. “Thank you.” I eye the vial warily, hoping she didn’t give me a heavy narcotic. “What is that?” I pluck the vial from her fingertips, my movements sluggish. But knowing her, she allowed it to happen.
“Does it matter if it helps you feel better?” She plucks it back, rocking on her heels before she stands and turns on the shower. Ice-cold water pelts me from above, luckily without the sting it carried before, but nonetheless bone chilling with a side of invigorating.
But I won’t tell her that.
“I guess not.” Rolling forward, I turn the faucets to scolding, standing slowly just in case her miracle vial didn’t really work. But my body feels good, as though that little vial was an injection of something I really don’t want the ingredients to.
Yanking the curtain closed with a swish, I remove my soppy clothes, throwing them at my sister who, upon peeking out, is wiping up my vomit. Guilt weighs heavily my stomach at tossing the clothing at her.
“I will not hesitate to throw vomit at you.” Her deadened voice gives me pause.
“What happened? And why are you dressed like an action hero?” My eyes shut as I stand under the spray of water, my arms resting on the tiled wall. More to hold me up than anything, even though my body feels healed. A question sits on the tip of my tongue. But why my sister is dressed like the Black Widow is definitely more important.
She wouldn’t take a stupid risk.
“I had a job to do and got a feeling.” Her voice distorts around the spray of water, so I peep out at her. Arms crossed and leaning against my sink, she stares at me with her icy blue eyes.
I nod in silence, returning to my shower. Twin telepathy. I want to dismiss it, I want to brush it off as nothing more than a trick of the mind. Or just a trick in general, but the truth is that it saved our lives on more than one occasion. At least my life.
“What kind of a job?” The scent of lavender and mint fills the air as I wash my hair and body. The perfumed soap sinking into my skin and cleansing away the sour odor of vomit.
“Just a job.” Her silence stretches across the small bathroom.
Nothing more will come of that conversation. She waitresses for Valentino and runs moonlight errands for him. Or so I assume. Though I get the feeling she’s running from our past just as much as I am. Still, I don’t like it, not when he feels more like a mob boss with a penchant for exhibitionism. My resolve for not showing up last night settles in my gut.
I shut the water off, and a fluffy white towel lands on my head a moment later. Wrapping my body up, I tear the blue curtain with clownfish on it to the side. Spraying water in its wake. My eyes settle on Poppy, on her leather gear, the steel determination in her gaze.
It’s at odds with the woman she presented at the bar. Her masks range from moment to minute to second. But one thing stands true, she doesn’t hide them from me. I can feel them. That twin telepathy that burns my gut, letting me know that my sister is involved in something I’m not sure I even want to understand.
Yet she hid this from me. Until now.
I let it go. The moment I do, her shoulders slide down and relax. The lines on her face disappear and her eyes lighten just a fraction. Thankful the conversation is moving on, she ushers me into my dinky little apartment. “You’ll have to bleach that floor.”
“I need to get cleaner first.” My clothing options are limited, mostly black pants and concert shirts of bands I’ve never been to and some I have. I can’t be choosy when thrift shopping.
“I see Aja was here.” Glancing over my shoulder, I find Poppy shoveling in a slice of cold veggie pizza, her fingertips grazing the wine bottles.
Black leggings and a concert t-shirt it is. “Yeah, she wanted to know why I was avoiding you,” I grouse, knowing it was her avoiding me.
“You shouldn’t have stood him up,” she states around mouthfuls of pizza, swirling the wine for any remaining bits.
“Aja killed those.” I wiggle my shirt on. “I must have caught a bug from that pizza.”
“Wasn’t the pizza.” She licks her fingertips before peeling open my fridge. The sticky siding makes a horrible rubber on rubber noise that gives me chills.
“Had to be the pizza or the weird delivery guy.” That redhead was something else. “What time is it?”
“Ten. You’ve time before Aja asked you to come in.”
“She told you.” I swipe my instant coffee from the cabinet along with my lone mug. I have no shame in admitting to the fact that my only mug has a picture of Prince on the front. His sweet little pink nose enlarged and adorable.
“Sisters talk.” She drinks the last of my orange juice before pitching it in the trash.
“Just not you, right?” She expects it of me, but she won’t divulge shit.
“You can’t keep repressing what should come natural to you.” I don’t miss the sneer she makes at my instant coffee.
“I’m good.” I ignore her. Filling my mug with water, I shove it into the too old microwave, its squeal telling me that it, too, is dying. Actually, it’s more the flashes it emits every fifteen seconds that confirms that. Beggars can’t be choosers.
“You aren’t living.” Arms crossed, she gazes at my empty fridge then my instant coffee. I know what she sees, and it doesn’t bother me because it’s mine. I’m doing all of this on my own without help or aid from anyone else.
“Maybe. But you and I both know that our safety is more important.” I shrug, pulling my instant coffee from the microwave and doctoring it up with the sugar packets I procured from the fast food joint down the street.
“You have no idea,” she mumbles under her breath. “You hide here.”
Her words tickle a memory, lost but not forgotten. Belonging somewhere in the pits of hell. Tears prickle behind my eyes as visi
ons of horror threaten to spill over.
“Do you remember, Penny?” Poppy’s voice stays quiet, yet the words penetrate that well I can’t seem to keep buried. “What happened—”
“No,” I lie, throat thick with emotion. “No.” My watery smile gives me away, but I’m tougher than this. Than the nightmares.
“You can’t hide forever, Penny. Eventually it will all catch up to you.” Her icy gaze sees far more than it should. “It is catching up to you. Living a lie will only get you killed.”
I sip the horrible coffee. I only know it’s bad because Poppy keeps sneering at it like it’s poison. But working at the newspaper has gifted me with an iron stomach. There isn’t much that I don’t find palatable.
“And what? Dressing up in leather would hold those demons back?” Eyes locked, identical and yet seeing so differently. Each speck and freckle mirror my own, each frown and laugh line. But still so incredibly different.
“You should join me tonight.” The challenge in her eyes glimmers just like it did during board games. Each of us far too competitive, pushing and pulling in a never-ending game of tug of war. One that did end. Whereas I stepped back to gaze at the world with contemplation, she grabbed it by the balls.
I hum, the sound conveying all the disbelief I feel. “And what? Is there a biker parade at midnight?”
I don’t expect the smile that dimples her cheeks, or the way her eyes light up with a challenging twinkle. “Oh, big sister, you’ve no idea what you are missing out on.”
“Meow.”
Saved by my prince. I’m not entirely sure I want to know what she thinks I’m missing out on. My eyes shift to Prince, who’s clawing at my legs, but not before I catch the hint of metal in her leather jacket as she unzips it to grab her phone. I pick Prince up, his body curling around mine with a heavy, sedating purr.
“Yeah?” Poppy’s blue gaze fixes on mine. “She’s fine. Currently in front of me drinking bad coffee.” Her tone sours with each word.