The demon howls inside my chest as I freeze. The chilled beer overflows the glass and froths over my hand, startling me. I drop the glass, a loud clang against the floor, though thankfully it doesn’t break. The sound shatters the trance that seeing her tongue, her lips, her pleasure put me in, and I whip around to lean my back against the bar. It’s the closest I can come to hiding, given the current situation.
Finn stares at me, his drink halfway to his mouth, eyes wide with some combination of amusement and concern as his gaze flits between me and the girl I’ve been staring at since she arrived.
“Uh-huh,” he says, a knowing smirk on his lips.
He takes a gulp of his whiskey, then sets it down and grabs a rag while I suck in a deep breath, then re-pour the beer.
“So she’s what’s got your panties in a twist tonight, eh?” he says, laughter barely concealed beneath the words.
I don’t even bother trying to deny it. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up.”
He smacks a hand against my back, a wide grin on his face as he tosses the rag aside.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this messed up over someone before. What’s her deal?”
“No deal. I don’t even know her,” I say, cringing at the wistful note in my voice and hoping he doesn’t catch it over the music.
“But you want to,” he replies.
“Yeah,” I say with a sigh. “I really do.”
2
LOR ALSO REALLY NEEDS THERAPY
May 7, 1977: Today is Renée’s third birthday. She’s such a sweet, happy child, and I hate to think of how the curse in our blood is going to ruin her joy. I haven’t seen any signs of the stars torturing her yet, but it will come. It’s only a matter of time.
Lor
I grip the woman’s hips and pull her tighter against me, slotting my leg between hers as she fists a hand in my hair and drags her tongue along mine. Her breasts are soft, her lips taste like tequila, and she’s cute as fuck in a sparkly pink dress. It barely covers her ass, and she doesn’t seem to mind that it rides up even further as we grind on each other’s thighs.
I’ve been aching for exactly this kind of distraction all week, but apparently her tongue tasting mine isn’t enough to push back the darkness in my head, even with three shots to help. I try to stay in the moment, focusing on the music reverberating around us, the feel of her fingers as they tease the bare skin between my black pants and crop top, but as one song rolls intothe next, I slowly give up. The darkness bleeds into the edges of my mind, threatening and sapping my strength.
Her hands still as she feels my energy change, and she pulls back, inquiry in her gaze. I try to offer a smile, but it feels more like a grimace. She shrugs and steps back, and I match her movements. We part ways, no words needed, and I’m back to dancing alone while she finds a new partner for the night.
I pretend for a few songs.
Pretend to have fun, that I’m dancing my heart out, that I’m enjoying myself and lost in the music. This club has brought good luck in the past, and I was hopeful someone would catch my eye tonight. That maybe someone could spark something inside me. Anything to distract from the desolate loneliness yawning through my soul, but nothing fills the void.
Sometimes I can escape for a few hours with a night of lust, but even that is losing its effectiveness lately. Nothing works, and the burden of being profoundly alone creeps ever closer, increasingly darker, weighing heavier.
There’s a moment of deliberation when I consider trying again, and another when I wonder if more alcohol is the answer. I know it in my bones though—neither will help.
So I call it a night.
I don’t even turn the lights on when I get home, knowing the sight of my empty, undecorated apartment will only depress me further. I strip out of my clothes, drop them in the hamper, then swish some mouthwash before falling into bed and hoping for oblivion.
The next morningis more of the same, a dull ache deep inside. I wake up late to a bleak apartment, poor job prospects, andthe unwelcome sound of loud meowing outside my third floor bedroom window. I roll over and push it open, letting in the stray tabby cat that seems to have decided it lives here. The cat leaps inside, then sits primly on the floor and glares at me with startlingly evil looking green eyes.
“What?” I say, defensive that it’s mad at me for doing what it wanted. Why are cats so hard to please?
Its tail twitches.
I groan and get out of bed, noticing there’s also a relentless hum in my blood today. It brings a wave of relief, followed quickly by resentment. I don’t know if I’d rather feel this, the persistent urge to follow—toseek—or nothing.
I think numb is worse, so I welcome the unrelenting urge for now.
The coffee maker splutters and I inhale the aroma of a cheap medium roast as I pull open my laptop. The buzzing hum running through my veins tells me another star has fallen, and about time too. I’m low on funds, and my employer/evil boss man who I suspect might be part of the mafia won’t wait on me forever. He hasn’t given me any sort of name other than ‘boss’ but he seems to hate it when I call him ‘partner’ instead, so naturally that’s what I do.
