Relish

CHAPTER ONE † TOURNIQUETDISTANT DRUMBEATS REVERBERATE inside my chest. I’m lying on the earth in a thin white dress and nothing else. The chill of the night coaxes my nipples erect. An electric charge in the air scatters goosebumps all over my skin. Chanting women in flowing dresses dance around me, stomping and clapping. Their jerky movements spill their long hair over their slender shoulders. Their words sound familiar, yet too confusing for me to understand. Rhyming, like they are casting some spell. I concentrate on my breathing. In and out. In and out. In sync with the drumming. Several torches surround us in a circle. Smoke curls toward the darkening sky from their flames. An acrid, almost choking smell rips up my nostrils. Yet, I have to inhale, no matter how vile the odor. A wrinkle-faced woman with white hair steps forward. Her ruby cloak stands out in the firelight. She murmurs something in a language that is garbled when the words reach my ears. It’s like a mysterious force is preventing me from comprehending what is being said. Something inside my belly twists and I cry out. My back arches off the ground. The chanting and dancing grow more frantic. The women are screaming their words now, their hands in the air, swaying like drugged-out club whores. The old woman sprinkles red dust over my belly, forming a cross—much like “X marks the spot” with a circle around it. Then she pulls out a dagger from its sheath at her hip. She licks the gleaming blade from base to tip then whispers something to it. Again with the rhyming words. It’s as if she’s singing. A faint shimmer enhances the curlicue carvings on the steel. My breathing hitches. I open my mouth, but no words come out. Another twist just below my navel forces me into a fetal position, clutching my abdomen. It feels like something wants to crawl out, ripping me from the inside. I opened my eyes to the predawn darkness and gasped. Holy hell! Chanting? Fuckin’ chanting? Really? I swallowed down the bile rising up my throat. Tremors ravaged my sweat-slicked body beneath the thick comforter smothering me. Since returning to my apartment, my dreams had taken on a creepy aspect. I must be losing my mind. It was bad enough I woke up to some strange man chasing me; now there was also a weird old woman performing some sort of sick ritual? Where were these images coming from? I swore I must have a twisted imagination to come up with this stuff. I’d never considered therapy before—dismissing my dreams as nightmares—but now I came really close to giving in. Maybe sleeping pills could knock me out deep enough that I’d find myself in the land of no dreams like the time I’d gotten sick at Lunar Manor. I smoothed away my black hair from my cheek, shaking my head. Not going there. Thoughts of that place only led to worse memories. With each breath I inhaled, I did my best to calm my racing heart. My fingers groped for my belly. Beneath my fingertips I felt the sea of scars there, marring the otherwise smooth skin. The largest scar ran from my navel down to just above my pubic line. Nothing wanted to crawl out of me like a creature from Alien. I was fine. I was fine. I repeated the sentence several times, wiping away the cold sweat on my brow with still shaking fingers. At least the tremors had subsided some. It sucked balls. Just when I thought I understood my dreams for what they were, new information threw a wrench in my acceptance, sending me back into a spiral of unnecessary panic. What were my dreams trying to tell me? I stared up at the ceiling for the longest time, pondering the question that seemed to have no answer. I had adopted the practice since leaving Lunar Manor. The simple act of counting the cracks on the plaster centered me. Soon, the after-effects of the dream receded. The chanting no longer drowned out the normal sounds around me, like the soft snores of the man beside me. I shifted my gaze to the window by my side of the bed. The heavy snowfall dulled the city lights. The weatherman expected fifteen inches to cover Crescent City this mid-February morning—one for the books. But the weather outside couldn’t match the flash freeze inside my body. I barely felt my lungs inflate as I inhaled the chilly air in my tiny apartment. The steady hum of the radiator couldn’t compete with winter’s ferocity. Maybe I should add another heater, but then, what good would it do when I was already counting down the days until graduation? Setting aside crazy dreams and thoughts of another heater, I focused on the most important thing: my final project. The looming deadline for the Spring Showcase forced me out of my warm bed. The springs creaked as I sat up. The guy beside me grunted. I paused. He shifted onto his stomach. When his breathing returned to soft snores, I pushed aside the heavy comforter and shrugged on a wool robe. Not the sexiest of looks, but considering my state of nakedness underneath, it would have to do. Shoving my quickly freezing feet into sheepskin booties, I heaved off the bed and stretched my arms above my head. The vertebrae in my spine popped back into place and I sighed. I rolled my head from side to side, unlocking all the kinks. A dull ache pulsed along my inner thigh. I must have pulled something last night. I rubbed the tight muscle before shuffling out of my room into the living room for my morning ritual. I reached up to check my patch,its velvety hardness a small comfort amidst the numbness. Like I’d predicted the morning I got on a plane home, I spent the rest of the holidays on my mother’s couch feeling sorry for myself. From time to time she would make her disgusting brown tea and forced me to guzzle the stuff down. I didn’t protest since sleep usually followed. When she asked me what had happened, I told her I signed an NDA that prevented me from talking about it. The resulting creased forehead and concerned gaze almost guilt-tripped me into forgetting about the potential lawsuit and confessing everything. Good thing Mom never felt the need to press when I clearly didn’t want to talk. I loved her so much for that. Instead, when she wasn’t making tea, she cooked comfort food—mac ‘n’ cheese with bacon bits. I must have consumed my body weight in processed cheese-covered noodles and mint chocolate chip ice cream. She asked if my state of pathetic depression had to do with a guy. I nodded and she left it at that. Did I mention how much I loved my mother? Waiting for my laptop to boot, I frowned at how slow it took. I figured I may have to buy a new one since the processor of the current one couldn’t handle the workload anymore. Sad, since my little silver trooper had been with me since freshman year. But, alas, some relationships have to end. Gah. My dream put me in a funky mood. Stepping away from my desk, I shuffled to the kitchen and hit the button on the coffeemaker. The money I’d made for the promo shots for Vicious burned a hole in my bank account. Some opportunity working for one of the most popular indie bands out there turned out to be. I thought I might as well put what I’d earned to good use. I hadn’t even touched the shopping spree debit card that the band’s manager and their lead vocalist had given me for Christmas. If I could avoid shopping, I generally did, like a trip to the dentist. I gave in to missing Yana and Phoenix. Along with Deidra, the maid assigned to take care of me. They came close to what I’d consider best friends during my time at Lunar Manor. I watched the red light on the coffeemaker until it turned green and the robustness of the Sumatran blend the guy in my bed preferred woke me up further. I forced myself not to think about the special brew they served at Lunar Manor. That coffee tasted like money. The best beans, the best roast. My mouth watered, along with my eye. I blinked repeatedly. I had promised myself before I left Mom’s that I wouldn’t bring my depression back to Crescent City. What good the promise did me. Steaming cup in hand, I sat in front of my computer, one leg up, and clicked on the YouTube link to the “Poison” music video. Since its release in January, the video had been viewed thirty million times. Nothing new for Vicious. Their first single had well over ninety million views now. The only difference? About half a million of those “Poison” views came from my incessant need to torture my heart. By now I had the entire sequence memorized. The video began with a shot of the band in front of a snow-covered fountain. Vicious in all their leather-kilt wearing glory; except for Phoenix—she was wearing the tightest leather pants known to mankind. My heart melted at the sight of Dray pounding away on the drums, his eyes closed. Demitri stood to the left of the screen, plucking at the all-white bass in his hands—shirtless and showing off his tattoos. A pinch in my chest stole my breath when my gaze landed on Phoenix again. She’d taken the place of lead guitarist while the guy who’d broken my heart sang one of the saddest songs in existence. As the video switched to scenes of me in a gorgeous dress made of leather and black feathers traipsing around in the snow-covered woods, I freely admitted to myself that I carried around a broken heart. I didn’t realize I had feelings for the blond-haired, blue-eyed, multi-pierced bassist of Vicious until he crushed it under his boot at the New Year’s Eve party. That annoyed me the most. When I let myself actually fall for him. How stupid could I have been? I knew I only had thirty days with them, yet I allowed myself the delusion of maybe staying with the band longer. I’d lost a part of myself during my stay at Lunar Manor, and it scared me to think I may never get it back. Yana had been right when she warned me that the experience working for Vicious breaks people. It certainly broke me. I trembled with hate when I thought of him being responsible. Luka Visraya—the handsome rock god that I carelessly let into my heart. I deserved the pulsing pain in my chest. I knew better and yet I didn’t listen to my gut. I ignored all the red flags. Of course he was in love with someone else. Of course! I let a tear fall when the scene of Luka singing to me while I lay “asleep” on a concrete slab came on. I should have known the whole song was a metaphor for his love for Phoenix. How she’d become poison in his veins after she left him for Demitri. The dress with the feathers should have tipped me off, too. Phoenix equaled the bird that flew out of the ashes, the very tattoo Luka had inked all over his back. Ugh! I hated myself. “I’m beginning to think you can’t start your day without watching that stupid video.” Exhaling a shuddering breath, I closed my eye just as Luka leaned in to kiss me. I used my knee to hide any evidence of my hurt, transferring the dampness on my cheek there. I sniffed then sat up straighter. “It’s not a stupid video,” I said, looking up at the classically handsome guy with a bed head grinning down at me. His large hand rubbed between my shoulder blades as if he knew of the knot there that needed easing. “Just because you’re in it.” He bent and claimed my lips. I tasted the coffee with its cream and sugar on his tongue. I grimaced and pushed him away playfully. “You put way too much sugar in your coffee, Larry.” Yes. I rebounded on Laurel Hardy, the editor-in-chief of the Daily Gossip, our ironically named college paper. I’d insisted on no strings attached and he’d agreed. Now he spent most nights at my apartment, and I let him because I couldn’t stand sleeping alone. The dreams…I shook my head. I needed someone to be there when I woke up. I needed the warmth of another body beside me, the feel of hands on my body, the oblivion an orgasm brought. I got all of that from Larry for the low, low price of $9.99. Figuratively speaking, of course. Another thing to hate Luka for. In thirty days, he’d made me codependent. The guilt of using Larry for my comfort twisted my insides. Larry knew this. I’d made it clear from the start. Still he stayed. I got the feeling he suspected my recklessness with his feelings came from my stay with Vicious. He’d been the one to help me negotiate the terms of the NDA, so when I came back broken he must have put two and two together. Larry snorted at my criticism of his taste in morning pick-me-ups. “Miss Sweet Tooth? I don’t get why you’re drinking your coffee straight up these days. You used to put at least three packets of the white stuff in your mug.” “Don’t make me sound like a sugar addict.” I stared into the dregs of my cup. In the background, the video had ended, displaying smaller screens featuring other Vicious music videos. I curled my fingers into my palm to suppress the need to click Replay. “Alright,” he sighed, smoothing down my hair in a sweet caress. “I get it. I won’t push.” “Thanks,” I mumbled, not really feeling the gratitude today. That f*****g dream, man, it messed me up. “Want another cup?” I offered him my mug, doing my best Oliver Twist impression. He chuckled and sauntered to my kitchen in just his boxers. I took a second to admire his ass before minimizing the YouTube browser. I cued up my photo manipulation software, ready for another long day. “Why are you up so early anyway? It’s not even six,” I asked as I pulled up one of Dray’s splatter drumming photos. I’d been tweaking the tinting for the past two days. I needed to get it right soon or I wouldn’t have time for the rest of the photos before I had to bring them to Eddy’s for framing. “I have to head to the library before my first class and check out a couple of law books for my debate this week,” Larry replied over his shoulder. He puttered about in the kitchen and soon the sizzle of eggs and the scent of cooking bacon reached me. “How’s the project going?” “Slow.” I grumbled curses under my breath. The Spring Showcase opened the first of March and ran for a week. Then I would have to defend my introspective to a panel consisting of the dean and several photography luminaries. My heartbeat sped up from zero to sixty at the thought. I had a week to finish everything. Framing took another week, and that was cutting it close because Eddy loved me. He wouldn’t do anyone else that kind of favor. I’d frame the pictures myself if I didn’t have to write the stupid paper that went with the pictures. In ten pages I needed to explain the theme behind the introspective and the driving force for the images. I could actually feel time slipping through my fingers. I had so much to do. “I get that you want the pictures to turn out perfect, but at some point you need to let go and let your talent speak for itself.” “Easy for you to say,” I muttered. “I heard that.” I didn’t flinch at the admonition in Larry’s tone. He’d already been accepted to several of the top law schools in the country. He had his pick, so I found it hypocritical of him to tell me to let go when he pored over countless pro and con lists every night. I kept telling him to pick one already. Did he listen to me? About as much as I listened to him. “Come on.” He waved me over to the table he’d set. “You get cranky and attack my lists when you’re hungry.” Chagrined at being called out for speaking my mind, I pushed away from my desk and shuffled the couple of feet to the kitchen. “Aren’t you cold walking around without a robe on?” I pulled out a chair before he could pull it out for me and flopped down. I had a strip of bacon in my mouth by the time Larry replied. “I’m taking one for the team.” He treated me to a half-smile. “I know how much you like staring at my ass…sets.” I threw my bacon at him. It bounced off his chest to land on his lap. He picked it up and popped it into his mouth, still grinning. I chugged half my second cup of coffee when Larry’s next question caused me to swallow wrong. “What?” I sputtered, wiping coffee off my chin. He rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t hear me.” “I did hear you, hence the choking.” I pushed my half-eaten breakfast away. “You know this thing between us isn’t anything.” For a second I thought I noticed hurt in his eyes before he blinked it away. “What does having dinner out once in a while have to do with what we have?” “What you have in mind sounds awfully like a date to me.” I ignored my conscience reprimanding me for being a cold b***h. Yes, I was going to hell for what I was putting Larry through. I should really just cut him loose, but my mental instability wouldn’t let me. I had to get through these two weeks in one piece if I wanted to graduate. I needed him to get me through. “I’m not ready for that.” “It’s just dinner, Dakota.” He played off his seriousness by shrugging nonchalantly. “I know you.” I sighed. “I know that dinner isn’t just dinner for you. This,” I gestured at him and me, “can’t go any further than what we have. After I graduate I’m off to travel the world and you’ll be in law school.” The relaxed air around him dissipated the second tension entered his shoulders. “Then maybe we should break things off now. I mean, it’s headed that way from what you’re telling me, right?” I flinched. Bingo. Shoving my rising panic down, I reached for his hand across the table, but he moved it away. “Laurel.” “Don’t ‘Laurel’ me, Dakota.” He pushed away from the table and stood up. It was hard to take him seriously in just his boxers, but I bit down on the joke begging to leave my lips. Not a time to be funny. “I get that you can’t talk about what happened to you last year, but it’s clear you didn’t get out unscathed. I see the hurt on your face and it kills me that I can’t do anything about it.” “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that.” “You call out his name in your sleep.” “What?” I covered my mouth with both hands. “That’s not possible.” Larry raked trembling fingers through his brown hair. “I woke up to take a leak and when I got back you were moaning his name.” “I don’t believe you.” I stood up, unwilling to continue this conversation looking up at him. “Do you love him?” The step back I took was completely subconscious. “No.” Lips set into a tight line, Larry turned around and stomped back into the bedroom. “What are you doing?” I followed after him. Larry pulled on his jeans, his eyes scanning the floor. “Where are my boots?” He asked, but something told me he didn’t aim the question at me. “Larry, please, don’t do this. Don’t leave angry like this. It’s Snowmageddon out there. God knows when I’ll see you again.” “Yeah?” He yanked his sweater over his head, ignoring my attempt at lightening the mood. “How can I not when I’m sleeping with someone who clearly has the hots for someone else?” “That’s not fair. He’s a rockstar, someone out of my league. It’s not like there’s a chance that I’ll cheat on you with him.” “See…the fact that you have to defend yourself is what makes this whole thing so much worse.” He wrapped the scarf I’d given him for a belated Christmas present around his neck. I hugged myself, feeling the cold inside my chest expand. “Larry…I…” “Look,” he took a steadying breath, “Snowmaggedon or not, I’ll be at Pot Luck tonight at eight. If you’re not there to have dinner with me then I’ll have my answer.” Because of the ultimatum he’d dropped on me, I could barely move out of the way when he left the bedroom. Stunned into silence, my gaze followed him to the living room as he sat on the couch to lace up his boots. Another image entered my mind—one of a blond sitting relaxed and tapping out a beat. The ice inside my chest spread to my belly. I opened my mouth to say something, but words failed me. Larry picked up his book bag and left the apartment without looking back. The slamming door set the rhythm to my morning, reminding me of how messed up my life had become. Stupid Luka.