Apotheosis is my religion@ApotheosisBitch5:
No Way Back:
It’s a million arrows, piercing the skin / The fatal blow from the poison within
Digs its way in and won’t let go / Embrace the pain and get on with the show
Chapter 12
A variety of potent scents waft through the crisp night air as Naomi makes her way down West 32nd Street, following her navigation toward the place in Koreatown Leo suggested. From garlic and chili sauce to car fumes and trash, she inhales a different smell with every stride. People shout, some in English, some in Korean, and cars cruise by, wheels spraying water on photo-taking tourists with their bubble tea as they pass.
She moves quickly through tunnels of scaffolding before continuing to push through the crowded sidewalks lined with various illuminated shop fronts and restaurants, flickering neon signs beckoning her in. The lingering scent of rain on the pavement mingles with the smell of barbequed meat, and her stomach rumbles.
She checks her watch, annoyed at herself for being late. She lost track of time earlier, as she often does now—sucked down the Harlow hole, as she’s started to call it, unable to think of anything else. Her research has only fed her new obsession, though, and the more she’s learned, the more engrossed and conflicted she’s become.
While it’s impossible to ignore the various mentions of graves and blood and death, especially across Harlow’s two most recent albums, there’s still nothing else that points to her being a vicious murderer. No actual evidence that Naomi has seen that makes Harlow seem any more likely to kill than other musicians who write and sing about the same dark themes. But hopefully she can get some more insider information from Leo tonight.
She glances up and then back down to her Maps app, which tells her she’s at the location, although she can’t see a sign for Maze 32 anywhere. The distant echo of someone singing poor karaoke makes Naomi smile, remembering Faye’s twenty-first birthday and how she turned into a drunk diva, refusing to share the mic.
She follows the sound, eyes darting to and from the abundance of Korean and English advertisements, and finally sees the yellow sign for the restaurant.
“Woah, careful!” Someone yanks Naomi back to the sidewalk just as she steps out into the road. A taxi speeds past, horn blaring.
Naomi looks up at Leo, heart racing. “Shit, thanks,” she laughs nervously. “I must have spaced.”
“You scared me. I thought I’d be skipping dinner for a trip to the hospital for a second.” He tries to laugh it off, but she senses a hint of worry. He offers his arm to her. “I think you better take this, for safety reasons.”
Her face flushes red, but she smirks as she loops her arm through his.
After safely making it across the street this time, Naomi and Leo walk into the bar, which looks more like a video game than a restaurant. The entire ceiling is lit by LED lights in the shape of a maze and the walls are lined with green hanging plants. But better than the atmosphere is the smell of simmering sweet barbeque sizzling on hotplates as they pass smiling patrons on their way to the bar.
Leo pulls out a stool for Naomi and takes a seat next to her.
“So how’s everything going?” he asks as they wait for the bartender, currently serving a group of early-twenty-year-olds in the corner.
She turns back to Leo. “Honestly, you’ve been such a help. I really owe you.”
He nods. “Yeah, no problem. I’m kind of intrigued myself, not gonna lie.” He puts his finger to his lips. “But shhh, don’t tell anyone.”
“You’re a fan of Harlow Hayes?” She laughs.
“I didn’t say that. Even though her songs are pretty catchy.” Leo starts singing the chorus to “James Dean.”
“Oh my god, I’m not going to karaoke with you, ever.”
“What? I can sing!”
Naomi shakes her head in disagreement.
Leo smirks, eyes lingering on hers, before nodding at the bartender to make his way over. “I’ll take a Terra.” He looks over at Naomi, giving her a chance to order.
“Same,” she says, before turning to Leo. “What, no fancy wine this time?”
“Gotta have beer with Korean fried chicken.” He holds his hands out as if he had no choice and then turns back to the bartender to order the food. Naomi salivates at the thought of it.
“So how was work?” She hopes this prompts him to remember the text she sent earlier.
“Not too bad, thanks. You?”
