head slowly and deliberately in response. “You get what you pay for.”
He laughed, stopped abruptly, and hissed, “You were late.”
“I wasn’t late,” I said, biting off the end of each word unintentionally. “I was delayed.”
I glanced at the envelope and back at him. I felt my eyes go dead as I bored the threat into him. A cleansing relief flooded me as the numb and nameless reappeared to take care of business. I could breathe again.
When I didn’t blink, his resolve faltered. Watching Mr. Loafers evaluate the authenticity of danger pleased me.
His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. Without a word, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the stack he’d skimmed from my envelope. Thrusting the lot of it into my hand, he hastily brushed past me. I started walking before I’d put the cash safely in the envelope.
The chaos in the back of my mind buzzed. The surprise of Nash was almost too much. If I could get the hell out of Chicago, it would settle and disappear. Just like me.
~
Sweat poured down my back. My hair was drenched and matted to my face. I couldn’t seem to regulate my breathing, my chest heaving as though I were on the brink of asphyxiation. Desperate, I ripped my shirt open to get the collar away from my neck, buttons clicking on the tiles as they fell to the sink and floor.
More memories had shaken loose, thanks to the run-in this morning. One in particular was the party he and I threw at his house just before our senior year in high school. My brother was there and drank too much, collapsing while doing a keg stand. I had felt helpless when I found him on the ground, but Nash took charge and performed mouth-to-mouth. I had never felt more grateful to anyone in my life when I heard Drew burp, cough, and then barf. Nash was a veritable hero.
“ If you died, I would’ve fucking killed you ,” I’d told Drew, nodding my thanks to Nash.
He called us freaks but smiled the whole time, following up with, “ Good thing I’m a freak, too .”
Nash was an all-in kind of friend. If you were part of his inner circle, he would do anything for you, no-holds-barred.
Still fighting for air, I had to consciously talk myself down for another ten minutes. Reactions to the memory wouldn’t go anywhere, though, and it kept me cycling through various stages of discomfort and cold sweats. I stared at the mirror in my hotel bathroom in abject horror because I knew exactly what was going to happen next.
I was going to be at the goddamn Cheesecake Factory at seven o’clock tonight.
Chapter Seven
Lucie
Clementine
When I woke in the morning, I was foggy and disoriented. The meds left me feeling a little hungover. I rolled over, taking in the warmth of the light beaming through the windows. The sun seemed to pick me up and cradle me. The day already felt less taxing.
As I had nowhere to be, a bath sounded like heaven. The apartment was quiet and I hadn’t yet broken in my amazing, massive tub. Just the thought of it made me grin and I felt lighter.
The iron claw tub was an incredible find at an estate sale Vivi had dragged me to somewhere in the Hudson Valley. When we saw the tub, I knew I had to have it. Until then, I had so few ideas as to how I would decorate my new place. This one piece, however, was perfect.
“If I had to, I could live in that,” I’d told Vivi.
Of course the rest of the day, Vivi had teased me incessantly, asking if I could live in this cabinet, on that sofa, or any other random piece I showed interest in.
Minutes later, I set a glass of orange juice on the bath caddy that straddled the tub, ditched my sleep shirt, and stepped in. Lowering myself in slowly, I leaned back, my head on a rolled up towel. I closed my eyes and simply inhaled, soothed by the scent. A low moan of contentment bubbled from my chest, and I was more at ease than I felt I deserved.
Without opening my eyes, I reached for my orange juice and felt for the glass with my soapy fingers. I took
He laughed, stopped abruptly, and hissed, “You were late.”
“I wasn’t late,” I said, biting off the end of each word unintentionally. “I was delayed.”
I glanced at the envelope and back at him. I felt my eyes go dead as I bored the threat into him. A cleansing relief flooded me as the numb and nameless reappeared to take care of business. I could breathe again.
When I didn’t blink, his resolve faltered. Watching Mr. Loafers evaluate the authenticity of danger pleased me.
His Adam’s apple bobbed hard. Without a word, he reached into his jacket and pulled out the stack he’d skimmed from my envelope. Thrusting the lot of it into my hand, he hastily brushed past me. I started walking before I’d put the cash safely in the envelope.
The chaos in the back of my mind buzzed. The surprise of Nash was almost too much. If I could get the hell out of Chicago, it would settle and disappear. Just like me.
~
Sweat poured down my back. My hair was drenched and matted to my face. I couldn’t seem to regulate my breathing, my chest heaving as though I were on the brink of asphyxiation. Desperate, I ripped my shirt open to get the collar away from my neck, buttons clicking on the tiles as they fell to the sink and floor.
More memories had shaken loose, thanks to the run-in this morning. One in particular was the party he and I threw at his house just before our senior year in high school. My brother was there and drank too much, collapsing while doing a keg stand. I had felt helpless when I found him on the ground, but Nash took charge and performed mouth-to-mouth. I had never felt more grateful to anyone in my life when I heard Drew burp, cough, and then barf. Nash was a veritable hero.
“ If you died, I would’ve fucking killed you ,” I’d told Drew, nodding my thanks to Nash.
He called us freaks but smiled the whole time, following up with, “ Good thing I’m a freak, too .”
Nash was an all-in kind of friend. If you were part of his inner circle, he would do anything for you, no-holds-barred.
Still fighting for air, I had to consciously talk myself down for another ten minutes. Reactions to the memory wouldn’t go anywhere, though, and it kept me cycling through various stages of discomfort and cold sweats. I stared at the mirror in my hotel bathroom in abject horror because I knew exactly what was going to happen next.
I was going to be at the goddamn Cheesecake Factory at seven o’clock tonight.
Chapter Seven
Lucie
Clementine
When I woke in the morning, I was foggy and disoriented. The meds left me feeling a little hungover. I rolled over, taking in the warmth of the light beaming through the windows. The sun seemed to pick me up and cradle me. The day already felt less taxing.
As I had nowhere to be, a bath sounded like heaven. The apartment was quiet and I hadn’t yet broken in my amazing, massive tub. Just the thought of it made me grin and I felt lighter.
The iron claw tub was an incredible find at an estate sale Vivi had dragged me to somewhere in the Hudson Valley. When we saw the tub, I knew I had to have it. Until then, I had so few ideas as to how I would decorate my new place. This one piece, however, was perfect.
“If I had to, I could live in that,” I’d told Vivi.
Of course the rest of the day, Vivi had teased me incessantly, asking if I could live in this cabinet, on that sofa, or any other random piece I showed interest in.
Minutes later, I set a glass of orange juice on the bath caddy that straddled the tub, ditched my sleep shirt, and stepped in. Lowering myself in slowly, I leaned back, my head on a rolled up towel. I closed my eyes and simply inhaled, soothed by the scent. A low moan of contentment bubbled from my chest, and I was more at ease than I felt I deserved.
Without opening my eyes, I reached for my orange juice and felt for the glass with my soapy fingers. I took
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