When she buys me a drink, I don’t think twice that it tastes like a mouthful of aspirin and razorblades. I never would have guessed that death had a taste. The ghost behind the bar, he says some looker in velvet put it on her tab but, up and down the counter, I don’t see anyone. The lights are just bright enough to pick faces from shadows. All around, candles flicker like fireflies. Burnt out chandeliers collect dust and cobwebs.
From behind, there’s a whisper in my ear. Mint and antiseptic kissing my skin. It says, “Let’s get out of here.” I don’t turn my hunched body but, instead, glance in my peripherals. Light grey eyes, the dull color of steel, they cut through the shadows, alluring and alarming. “Destiny,” she says. She sits to my left and I take another sip of my drink, my fingers jutting off the glass and showing the silver band wrapped around my third. It shouldn’t mean anything to me anymore, but I can’t help the reflex. Destiny smiles and looks down at her open toed heels. Sticking out of her purse is a med-student ID badge. When she looks up, she shows the white pearls behind her thick, red lips. Her martini glass is kissed the same crimson red. She shrugs her bare shoulders up, ruffling the front of her black dress, and then they fall back down. Her bleached, blonde hair lies in sharp curls on her shoulders, where her dress cuts an autopsy ‘V’ across her sunken collarbones. She says, “Your choice.”
I take another sip of my drink without picking my elbows up off the bar. With my nose pressed inside the glass, all I smell is bleach.
“Destiny, let me ask you something.” My voice is hoarse and smoky, the way it gets from yelling too much. I nod down toward her pleated, leather purse and ask how she affords school. Her eyes float in the bar as she rolls them up toward the ceiling. With an eyebrow raised, she teases, “I have my ways.” She touches me on the forearm and giggles. It’s been so long since I’ve heard a woman laugh toward me that I’m not sure how to react. The corner of my mouth pushes into a strange, pinched smirk. The bartender at the end of the counter is eyeing me so I stop and stare back down into my drink. He’s right, I don’t deserve this.
When I pull out my phone to check the time, there, on the screen, is ten missed calls and twenty new text messages from Lauren. Back home, she’s probably staring at the clock. Where are you? I’m sorry. Please, just come home.
I take another sip, trying to extinguish the fire building again in my gut, trying to unravel this knot twisting up my insides. A whisk scrambling eggs. Past the alcohol, I can faintly smell peach on my flannel. The stain is still there from where Lauren chucked her scalding tea at me after I’d called her a lying bitch. I didn’t bother changing before slamming the door. Destiny is a glaring blur in my peripherals.
“Look,” She says, “You have thirty seconds and I’m gone.”
In the stainless steel bar top, my face is just a skull with skin stretched across it.
In my phone, I’m furiously typing. My thumbs pressing so hard I could crack the screen. Typing to Lauren. I have to follow my destiny. Gulping down the last of the drink, I slam the glass on the counter hard enough that the bartender says, “Watch it, buddy.” Lauren's responding. What are you talking about? This is your destiny. And she has no idea how right she is.
In the car, Destiny tells me she’s into knife play, but what she doesn’t say is that she’s good with a scalpel. She says more, but her voice blurs into a monotone that I can’t really understand. I must be drunk. Lights blur and stretch into long, bright bands and my eyes are heavy. My vision fading around the edges. I’m slumped over with my head against the cool window, and the seat belt is smashed across my face. Red and green and yellow streetlights pop in and out like Christmas ornaments and raindrops explode and stream down the window like Lauren’s tear streaked face. I swear I hear Destiny laugh.
When I come to, Destiny is straddling me hard, pinching my body between her thick runner’s thighs. Her dress is hiked up to her hips and I can just make out the little triangle of panties hiding in the shadows. Goosebumps ripple across my skin as she touches me, hands as cold as a morgue. She’s silent while she works. Everything is muffled and pulsing. The room warped and spinning. Lights flickering on and off. We could be in a hospital or a shoddy motel down by the Flamingo, I can’t tell. Maybe it doesn’t matter.
In between the flickering strobe of images, her hands emerge from my stomach holding something dark and crimson. She says, “You asked how I pay for school.” She giggles and holds out her bloody, cupped palms. I must be dead. Or dreaming. In that moment, Destiny, elbow deep underneath my sternum, and untwisting my insides, my last coherent thought is of Lauren: Her sitting at the kitchen table, her shirt stretched across her big, round stomach when she’d said, I promise it’s yours. And then, with vision fading, I follow Destiny once more. This time, into darkness.
I really enjoyed this. Actually more and more as it progressed. Amazing work, thanks for sharing 🖤
Wow, I've really reacted to this more than I thought I would. And by reacted I mean, my heart is beating so fast and I'm shocked.
This is fantastic work. It reminds me of a book you said you read all those years ago called Kiss Me Judas I think. I'm not sure if that was the proper name for it but I read it at the time because you had said you were reading it and I was surprised and shocked just like I am now (in a good way of course).
I hope this is somewhat of an goal for you because it is working, haha.
I can't wait for the next one!! :)