Winged

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Sleep and I no longer get along and I do what I can to avoid it entirely, especially after the car accident two days ago. If my heavy eyelids have their way, my heart will be broken again by my dream like it has every night for a month and a half. My nightmare is a fantasy gone wrong.

Anxiety creeps and settles in my bones every time I think of the accident. My gut tells me there’s a common thread linking what happened in the car to my nightmare.

Last month I thought I was having a heart attack; the diagnosis was a panic attack. The doctor says its depression. I know it’s not. All my issues are connected somehow and figuring out what’s triggering this is the key to getting my life back.

“Hurry up.” Reese bangs on the bathroom door. “We’re going to be late.”

She’s my best friend and cousin from Dad’s side of the family.

“Oh,” she says when I open the door. Her glare quickly turns into something resembling concern. She’s not the coddling type. She’ll gladly tear the throat out of whoever did me wrong or slap me silly if I need a reality check.

I drag myself back to the room to get dressed. My mood is completely at odds with this bright summer morning. But at least my teeth are brushed, and my hair is pulled up. It could be worse.

“Another nightmare?”

“Something like that.”

Truth is, I didn’t sleep at all. She knows better than to dig; something will prevent me from talking. I’ll choke up and cry or I’ll forget it entirely only to remember what happened when she leaves. Last week I blacked out.

I’m not this girl. I’m usually the happy one in the group, baking cookies, making my friends laugh with my mad dance skills, and my fearless car karaoke performances, but not lately.

Reese glances at her phone. “I hate to do this to you, but Ruby opened the shop this morning and you’re back on the schedule.” She points to the clothes she threw on my bed.

Nothing pisses off Ruby, the manager at Magic Beans, more than being short staffed during the morning rush and that’s saying something because she has a long list of irritations. It doesn’t matter my family owns the place.

I plop on the bed, trying to remember how to get dressed. Reese pulls on her auburn ponytail to make it sit higher on her head and paces like she’s ready for the kickboxing ring. She picked up the sport and it’s done wonders for her already-athletic build. I wish her energy was contagious. The thought of working a full day is painful.

“You want to go on without me? I can bike there.”

Maybe I can bike there. Ruby will be happier with at least one of us on time.

“I can’t. I’m under orders from the chief. He’s worried about your concussion.”

I didn’t hit my head. Or did I? There’s no point in arguing. It’s exhausting and she’ll probably win anyway.

Every table is taken when we get to Magic Beans, and there’s a line weaving from the baked goods counter, through the book section, and back to the front where the gifts and cards live. Tourist season. Magic Beans takes up most of the bottom floor of our two-story historic building. The Beanstalk, Grams’ antique store, takes up the other chunk.

Reese and I throw on our aprons and dive into battle.

“Nice to see you finally made it.” Ruby rolls her eyes.

I squinch up my nose, smile, and open the second cash register.

“Hey, Reese, can you fix me something with a double-shot of espresso and lots of sugar?” I ask when the line finally tapers down to a slow drip.

“I know just the drink to perk you up.”

I’d do it myself, but I’m not allowed to touch the high-dollar coffee equipment. The espresso machine is supposed to be indestructible, but I nearly broke it a month after training.

The bell over the door rings, and one of my favorite people steps inside.

“Hello, beautiful people!” Ozzie sings as he pushes through the door carrying a big box. I could never pull off white pants like he can, they’d end up with stains by lunch. He always looks fashion-shoot worthy and today’s no exception. Oz is the glitter glue in our trio. We’ve been friends since we were in the same preschool class. He used to be the scrawny, short one in the group, but now he towers over us with his strong swimmer’s physique.

He sets the box on one of the larger round tables then sits in a cushy, burgundy chair. “Guess what I brought.”

“Do I want to know?” I ask. Last time he showed up with a surprise box, the evening started with brightly-colored feathered boas and ended with a herd of loose goats running down the street and us in tow.

“Costumes for the Fairy Festival on Saturday!”

“Reese is going to kill you.”

The action of smiling is foreign after weeks of bleh, but I can’t help it at the thought of Reese dressed up like a fairy. Magic Beans always has a booth at the annual festival and sells burlap sacks of coffee, along with some other stuff. Usually we wear our uniform: street clothes, and an apron with our logo on it. Tons of people dress up though.

“Oz, you don’t even work here. It’s not happening,” says Reese as she walks up.

Ruby chuckles.

“What are you laughing at? You’re scheduled to work the booth too,” she snaps. We may fear Ruby during rush hour, but the rest of the time we’re cool. She’s twenty-something and lives in one of the apartments upstairs. We have an understanding. I take care of the yappy teen girls and she takes the difficult customers.

“Guess again.” Ruby squeezes Oz’s shoulders. “I have the day off thanks to Oz here who volunteered to work our booth.”

“Your mom already cleared it and she loves the idea of costumes,” Oz says to me. Oz’s family is loaded, and he doesn’t have to work but he likes to be a part of things.

He opens the box and pulls out three sets of wings.

“The blue-green ones are mine.” He sets them on the table.

“The multi-watercolor, sparkly ones are yours, my dear.” He presents them to me with an exaggerated bow.

“The black ones are yours.” He shoves them in Reese’s direction. “You’re an evil fairy.”

She takes them and grins. “I’ll wear them because they’re black. I still think you’re a dork.”

“And this is also for you, Tessa.” He pulls out a unicorn’s horn. My throat dries up. I open my mouth to say something but close it because I don’t know what to say. He would never mock me, but this sure feels like he is.

“That’s not funny.” Reese stares down Oz. They both know about my odd unicorn dreams. It sounds stupid when I think about it, but it’s not when I’m having my heart ripped out night after night in various versions of the same twisted nightmare. What will it be tonight? The one where I watch the unicorn get decapitated by a demon or the one where I wake up crying with a hole in my heart and can’t explain why. My nights have become an endless cycle of blood, death, and heartache.

I pull my eyes away from Oz and look down. Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five. Sometimes counting helps. I’m afraid to move. Breathe. When I focus back into the conversation, Oz and Reese are arguing.

“We need to get Tessa back to her happy-self, she’s been in this place for months. What a better way than to help her find her inner-unicorn?”

Reese rolls her eyes.

Oz walks over and pulls me into a tight hug, forcing me out of this place.

“I know nothing makes sense right now and you’re scared. But I promise you, you’re not going crazy,” he whispers in my ear.

His warmth and kindness seep into my soul, but a tear manages to escape my exhausted eyes.

“We are going to have a great time. And if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for me. How many times a year do I have a legitimate reason to wear glitter in the town of Page Springs, Wisconsin?”

A giggle bubbles from my throat. The noise is odd to my ears. It’s been a while since I’ve heard it. I look up at Oz, and he gives me a gentle smile. I love this guy.

“You never need a reason. All you need is the right outfit and an audience,” I say.

“That’s my Tessa.”

Reese sighs loudly and walks away. Ruby gives me a concerned smile before following my cousin.

“Reese thinks I push too hard. She’s worried about you.”

“I know.” I am too.

“You’ll get through this. Let’s try this on.” He holds up the horn.

“How about later?” How about never.

“Just for a second. Pa-leeeeze. It matches your white hair beautifully,” he sings as he fiddles with it.

“It’s light-blonde, not white.”

The little bell hanging on the door jingles suddenly, and in walks hot biker guy who doesn’t like to share the road. My heart races, but the rest of me is frozen to the painted cement floor. Oz turns to see who stole my attention. Biker guy stops and stares right at me, looking as surprised as I feel. He shakes his head and smirks, closing the distance between us.

“You’re the guy on the motorcycle,” I say and cross my arms.

“Yeah, the one no one likes.” His eye contact makes me uncomfortable, and even though my cheeks burn, I accept his challenge and don’t look away.

There are so many things I could say to express my frustration with his lack of driving skills, but each version makes me sound like an i***t. He wasn’t that close, and if road rudeness were a crime, Reese would be locked up.

He smiles. “You should be careful. That road’s dangerous.”

“You shouldn’t ride so close to bicyclists.”

“I wasn’t that close.” It’s like he picked the thought out of my head. “I was referring to the car accident with the logging truck.”

“Oh.”

News travels faster than wildfire in small towns.

“Sorry if I scared you.” His sexy grin makes Oz sigh. I shoot a scathing glare in Oz’s direction. It’s obvious biker guy has a big ego and I wish Oz wouldn’t feed it.

“Can I help you?” Reese interrupts.

Biker guy turns his attention to her. “Yeah, I’m looking for Brigid. She around?”

“I’ll get her. You can wait over there,” Reese snaps and motions with her chin.

When he walks away, my limbs thaw and I can’t help but feel disappointed. What is wrong with me? I shake my head, trying to clear him from my aura.

“What just happened?” Oz whispers while his gaze follows Reese as she weaves her way through the antique store to the stairs leading to Mom’s office.

“Wish I knew,” I mutter.

I can’t pull my eyes away from biker guy leaning against the counter. He casually glances around the room and lands on the local’s paintings for sale on the wall. He’s familiar, but I can’t place where I’ve seen him before. The combination of his blue eyes and black hair is striking.

I’m drawn to him, which makes no sense because I’ve established, I think he’s a jerk. I narrow my eyes in time for him to catch me staring.

He does the worst thing ever. He smiles at me. I guess it’s better than his sneer, but still. I chew my lip and pick a menu off the table to fan myself. By the time I realize what I’m doing, it’s way too late to put it down nonchalantly. Now I got to pretend it’s hot in here, but it’s him getting me flustered.

And I’m still staring.

“Hello, you must be the musician,” I hear Mom say over the soft din of clinking cups and the few chatting customers still here. “I’m Brigid.”

“Cyrus,” he says and shakes her hand. He looks at me again, then back at Mom.

“She your sister?” He tilts his head toward me.

Ugh. Is he hitting on my mother?

I swear the room brightens when she smiles. “Tessa’s my daughter.”

“Ah.”

I’d be insulted but Mom still gets carded and we do have similar features. Our eyes are about as dark brown as you can get. It’s a strong contrast to our hair. We get it from Grams.

“Let’s go up to my office and talk. We have some time before the AV guy arrives.”

“Sounds good.” He nods my direction and grins as he walks off with Mom.

“I don’t like him.” Reese’s voice makes me jump.

“What’s not to like?” asks Oz.

“Not sure, but I’ll find out eventually.”

“Frowning causes worry lines.” Oz touches the spot between her eyes with his pointer finger.

“I’ve got books to stock.” And a hot biker guy to not think about. “I’m off.”

I dig my way out of the box of new novelty books. My personal favorite is 101 Tips to Avoid Turning Into Your Mother. She’s not bad, but it’s irritating always being compared to her. I get halfway through shelving the new gift mugs when Mom reappears. Speak of the devil…

“What’s up with the guy you were talking to?” I ask.

“I’ve hired Cyrus to play a few gigs for us this weekend.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, we were discussing the equipment I need to rent for him, but if I decide to keep him on, he’ll ship his own from home.”

We stay open late Thursday through Saturday and hire musicians to play on the weekends. Good music is always a draw.

“What do you know about him?” I try to sound nonchalant and fiddle with a coffee cup.

“Not much. He travels, playing different venues, and reached out because he was looking for work in the area. I saw a clip of him online. He’s good, and the fans seems to like him.” She smiles. “He’ll stay in one of the apartments for the weekend. If it goes well, I’ll have him sign a lease.”

“He’s staying upstairs?” Mom only leases to employees. There aren’t many units.

She laughs. “Yes. Is that okay?” Mom narrows her eyes and smiles like she thinks she knows something.

Yeah. He’s six feet of good-looking trouble. I bet half the girls in Page Springs will fall for him. There’ll be competition and possibly hair pulling. Broken hearts are inevitable. I’ve seen it before. The idea of jumping into that game is about as appealing as a trip to the dentist. Yet, the idea of him being near me instead of somewhere else is…relieving.

Before I can analyze my revelation, the bell jingles and in walks a guy who must be a few days early for the festival. His stone-colored chinos and button-down shirt with rolled sleeves don’t remotely match his brown, lace-up boots. He’s like a Viking gone wrong but it doesn’t even matter because he radiates confidence and it works for him. He tucks his shoulder-length, dirty-blond hair behind his ear and scans the room. His green eyes light up when he sees Mom.

“Well look who the cat dragged in! I haven’t seen you in ages!” She hurries over to give him a hug. He lifts her and swings her around and plants a kiss on her cheek. Does Dad know this guy?

“A visit was way overdue,” he says with an Irish brogue like Mom’s. He sets her down and turns his attention to me. His hand goes to his heart and his voice hitches when he says, “Please tell me you remember me.”

And then it hits me. “Edric?”

He bows at the waist. “At your service.”

My cheeks flush at my tween crush who I haven’t seen for years. Mom smacks him with a dishrag and shakes her head.

I cover my cheese-grin with my hand, remembering the make-believe adventures we had all those years ago. I, the warrior princess and he, my loyal knight, as we searched for treasure.

“Look at you, Quintessa. How you’ve grown.” His smile is warm and there’s a twinkle in his eye.

“It’s Tessa, now. Only Mom calls me that when she’s pi—” It’s my turn to get hit with Mom’s towel. “Angry. Angry at me. And technically I haven’t grown since I was like thirteen. But I heard about this girl who grew an inch when she was twenty, so there’s hope. Check out your hair! It’s so long.”

I bite my lip to stop my rambling. He’s off limits. Edric was nearly eighteen the last time I saw him, even if he doesn’t look a day past twenty. But does age really matter?

He chuckles and sniffs. His smile reaches his glossy eyes and he looks up before responding. “Sorry, allergies. Yes, yes it is. What do you think?”

I reach for a lock of his hair and set it down quickly. “It’s nice, but I think I like it shorter.”

He nods and his smile gets even bigger.

“Am I missing something?” I look between him and Mom. She shakes her head and looks back at Edric with raised eyebrows.

“Don’t mind me. I’m just so happy to see you all.”

Having him here is like a homecoming. He used to visit almost every summer and stay for a while since he lives out of the county. But I must have been twelve the last time he was here.

“Come on Edric, let’s have a cuppa and catch up.” Mom tugs at his sleeve.

“I do hope to see you again soon.” He bows slightly and gives me a million-dollar smile, reminding me of the time I declared my undying love for him. I was only seven, but the memory is still cringe-worthy.

“See ya.” I wave awkwardly and turn away to contemplate what to do with all these bubbly feelings resurfacing. Dang, is it possible he got younger and better-looking since I last saw him?

When they’re a few feet away I catch Edric say to Mom, “She never did like my long hair.”

“Ssshhh.”

What’s up with all the hotties coming into town? Well, my birthday is coming up. Early gifts? I smirk and add another mug to the shelf. Seeing Edric was a double-shot of espresso to my system, but it’s short-lived. An hour later, I plop down in a chair, grateful my shift is over in ten.

“Hey, Tess, mind cleaning up the spill near the stage before you leave?” asks Ruby while working on an order.

“Sure.”

A few rags and small pail will get the job done. I get down on my hands and knees to sop up the mess as I fantasize about a good night’s sleep. Too bad it won’t happen.

“Nice ass.”

I look up. No one’s behind me but Cyrus, who’s messing with the AV equipment on the stage.

“Excuse me?” I say.

He barely glances in my direction. “Hmm?”

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

Fine. Whatever. I reach to the farthest part of the spill under the table and hear him say, “It’s cruel to bend over like that in front of me. If you had a heart you would have grabbed a mop.”

I pause mid-wipe. I heard him clearly this time.

“But I am enjoying the show so it’s all good. I think you missed a spot.”

“Really?” I shout. “Would you like to clean this up?”

Cyrus jerks in surprise. “What are you talking about?”

“I heard you talking about my ass,” I say, louder than I intend.

“I didn’t say a word.”

“You told me I had a nice ass and that you were enjoying the show.”

He smirks, stares at me for a second. “You’re crazy.”

Mom made me see a therapist a couple of times to help me cope with my recent bouts of anxiety. I wasn’t on board with this idea because it reinforced my inability to fix it myself. He hit a sore spot. I grab a half-full glass of pop from the table next to me and toss it at Cyrus. That wipes the smirk off his face.

“I’m not crazy.”

“What’s going on here?” Mom’s voice startles me. I hadn’t even heard her come back from the office.

“He was talking about my ass,” I blurt.

“I didn’t say anything,” he says it slowly, and gives Mom a look that infuriates me. It’s like he’s telling her that she should believe him over me.

“Tessa, let’s talk upstairs. Cyrus, stick around. I’m not done with you. Is the equipment okay?”

He doesn’t look at it but answers, “It’s fine.”

We walk through The Beanstalk and up the stairwell at the back of the store. The first door on the left is the office. It occupies one of the large studio apartments. It’s home away from home and fully furnished, but there are two desks instead of a bed. Mom sits in an armchair, and I plop down on the couch.

“Tell me what happened.”

I include every detail except for the pop I threw in his face. She saw that.

“I get why he’d lie to me but why you?” she asks.

Because there’s something wrong with him.

“I don’t know. Does it matter?”

She closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I need you to know you’re my priority and I won’t hesitate to fire him if you’re certain it was him. But are you positive Cyrus said those things?”

Mom doesn’t have to tell me we’ve invested money in him and firing him means we’re out a musician for this weekend. Did I see his mouth move? No. Do I think it was him? Yes. Can I prove it? No. What if I’m wrong? Maybe I’m hearing things now. I don’t remember the last time I slept for more than an hour or two. A lump grows in my throat and tears prick my eyes, but I will them to stay put. I shake my head. Maybe I’m getting worse.

“Tessa, what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? So, he didn’t say those things?”

“I don’t know what to tell you. I didn’t see anyone else it could have been. But he did look surprised when I called him on it. I can’t be sure.”

She nods.

“I’ll respect your decision, but he’s on my radar.” I start to get up. “We’re not done.”

Ah hell. Here we go. I pick at a thread on the couch.

“Quintessa, I’m worried about you.” She moves from her chair and sits next to me, puts her hand on mine. Tingles move up my arm, breaking me out of my stupor and making me focus easier. “Take tomorrow off and get some real sleep tonight.”

I nod, but don’t trust my voice. I hate to tell her, but sleep is not on my agenda.

“Grab your things, let’s pick up some dinner and head home. I’ll deal with Cyrus later.”

“Mom, it’s fine. Let it go.”

Her eyebrow goes up.

“Or don’t.”

She chuckles. We head out the back and mercifully avoid everyone on our way out. Maybe a day away from him is a smart idea.