Angela

 

 

Bodies littered the streets, making the city she knew and loved unrecognizable. The scene before her was practically a war torn, third world country. It no longer looked like the city she knew and loved. The roads were empty and the black night sky was lit with the fires that ravaged New Orleans.

She walked slowly towards the small crowd of people gathered on the front steps of the St Louis Cathedral. Screams echoed down the alleyways. The closer she got, the worse the feeling in her gut became. Something was wrong. Everyone peered towards the ground at the front of the congregation. She shouldered between the onlookers.

By the time she finally reached the center of the group, she had found a face she recognized. Rhys stood gripping his hair tightly, bordering on hysteria and shock. A woman kneeled on the floor of the cathedral beside the body.

Angie stared at her own grief-stricken face then followed her eyes to the person laying dead on the ground before her. The vision evaporated before Angela could get a glimpse of who it was and she was sitting on the sofa in Arlen’s living room.      

***

Slowly, Arlen’s handsome face came back into focus. He held her gently in his lap, rubbing slow circles into her back as he cradled her face against his muscular shoulder.

“I…I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to,” she stammered, sitting up arrow straight.

She shifted to crawl off his lap, but he held her back. She stilled her wiggles.

“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Arlen begrudgingly released his hold on her.

She climbed off him and plopped down onto the couch cushions next to him.

“What happened?” he asked, genuinely concerned.

He had every right to know. After all, she had just randomly checked out for a while, but how was she supposed to explain it without sounding nuts? She decided that telling the truth was probably the best course of action. Besides, something about him begged for her honesty.

“I, umm, see things sometimes. It’s sort of new, so I don’t really know how to explain it.”

Angie picked at her cuticles, not wanting to watch his face turn from concern and curious to disgust, or fear. Her nails needed to be painted. The polish had chipped to almost nothing. She couldn’t leave them alone either. Not since she’d been taken. It had become a nervous habit.

“See things? Like the future or something?” he asked.

She nodded. “Future, present, and past.”

“Can you tell me what you see? I mean, of course, you don’t have to if you don’t want to. I just want you to know that you can talk to me about it if you want to,” he nervously rambled.

She giggled. It was sort of cute. The pointed tips of his ears turned pink. It was the first time she’d really noticed them. They didn’t look like they were body modifications, but they also were too pronounced to be totally natural. She tabled the thought and made a mental note to ask about them later. Perhaps they were fake.

“I’m really sorry. I just can’t yet. It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m not ready.”

It was partially true. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone the things she saw. By telling someone else, it somehow made it feel more real. That was something she wasn’t okay with yet.

Arlen pressed his lips into a thin line and gave a single nod.

“I’m ready to listen whenever you want to talk about it.”

Angie got quiet after that. Even as her belly was jumping with butterflies, she was comfortable in their mutual silence. It was new to her and much to her surprise, she sort of liked it.               

Standing up from the sofa, he took a few steps away and stopped. Turning around to face her, he hooked his hands on his hips and sported the most determined expression she’d ever seen.

His jeans hung low and gave her a tiny glimpse of his skin underneath. She saw the hint of an oh so happy trail and wondered briefly as to what he was packing underneath.

Angie peered up at him to catch the most devilish grin and she immediately averted her eyes.

Holy shit, she’d been caught ogling… again.

“I want to show you something. Will you come with me?” he asked.

She could feel the terror welling up inside of her. Those shadows would be out there waiting for her. She wondered if they would succeed in killing her this time? Or had they lost interest?

Her host was watching her internal struggle with a hopeful expression.

“Sure,” she relented.

His face lit up at her answer.

“Okay. Now, we’re talking. You might want to slip into something a little more, uh, appropriate? It’ll be a little breezy,” he stated, eying the threadbare shorts with holes beginning to develop in some compromising places.

“What are you trying to say? Am I not high maintenance enough for you?” she joked, pulling her unwashed hair up into a messy bun.

Angela wasn’t wearing a bra and her feet were bare. She looked like a hot mess and she knew it, but passing up a chance to tease Arlen? Not going to happen.

“You know that saying if the shoe fits?” he asked, waiting a beat for her reaction.

She playfully lifted an eyebrow as if she were daring him to call her out.

“It’s a joke, not a dick. Don’t take it so hard,” he quipped with a Cheshire cat grin.

Her smile grew until she couldn’t hold her laughter in anymore. It was just so unlike him.

“You have jokes?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He was playing coy. Better yet, he was playing. Angie didn’t remember the last time a guy did that with her. The guys she normally dated were more of the hit it and quit it sort.

“Give me a couple minutes, Your Highness, and I’ll be ready to meet your uppity standards.” Her tone was playful, but she sensed the change in him immediately.

“What did you say?”

“I’ll be ready in a minute? I’m sorry, did I say something wrong?”

He shook his head and scooped his jacket up from the arm of the sofa. The leather was wrinkled and worn.

She wanted to ask more about his minor assault, but she thought it’d be pushing him too far too soon. She left him waiting and disappeared into the bathroom for a quick shower. Within five minutes, she was out and pulled on a pair of jeans and a plain, white t-shirt before slipping into a worn pair of converses. She pinned her hair up and decided she was done being someone other than herself for men. Looking back, it had gotten her heart broken and ultimately kidnapped and tortured. Nope, any man who truly cared for her wouldn’t mind messy hair and casual clothes.

She checked herself over in the mirror by the door. Cuts still peeked out from the edges of her clothing.

Monster, she thought as she scrutinized each laceration in her reflection.

Those scars would mark her until the day she died, long after they’d faded into nothing. As a last minute decision, she threw a sweatshirt on. The winters in Louisiana were cool, but nothing like what the folks up north got. That’s how she justified it anyways. If it also happened to cover the evidence of her abuse, then that worked, too.

She left the sanctuary of Arlen’s bedroom and trekked into the sitting area. He was leaning against the back of the sofa looking like an Abercrombie model. His almost black hair was pulled back into a man bun, which typically wasn’t attractive to her. However, she was fast growing a new liking and appreciation for the style. His black pants were slung low on his hips and the leather jacket pulled taut over his muscles. Arlen was downright yummy with a capital Y.

He heard her coming and pushed off the couch. She didn’t miss that his eyes focused on each and every curve as she moved. She didn’t miss the hungry gleam to them either.

“I’m, uh, ready,” she announced.

He nodded, not hiding the fact he was checking her out the entire time. Her belly did little flip flops. Arlen opened the door for her and escorted her out of the apartment and down to his bike.

Angie froze as soon as the bike came into view. She’d never been on one and had no intention of breaking that trend. Those contraptions were dangerous.

“What? What is it?” Arlen asked, concerned by her change in attitude.

He slid the key into the bike’s ignition and strode back to her. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and kneaded them lightly to help relax her. Arlen didn’t need to do it. She was willing to bet he didn’t know that his touch alone did wonders for her mindset.

“That,” she said, motioning to his prized possession, “is what we’re taking?”

“Yes?”

She didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Angie could tell by its shine and near mint condition it was maybe the one thing in his life he was proud of. The bike was a pristine black Harley Davidson which looked mean as hell. If she were into bikes, that would be the one for her. However, she couldn’t get past the safety concerns.

“It’s just, well…I’ve never been on one before,” she murmured quietly.

“Are you scared?” he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“Maybe just a little,” she said, holding her thumb and forefinger up in a pinched fashion.

“What if I promise to go slow and be extra careful?”

His cheeky grin was contagious. Without even realizing it, she was smiling like a fool and nodding her agreement. Arlen tugged her over to the bike and pushed the tiny hairs back from her face. His scent was as intoxicating as his warmth was. Truthfully, she was looking forward to having him cradled between her thighs. That pun was definitely intended.

Arlen placed the helmet on her head and secured the strap under her chin. He climbed onto the bike and steadied it. With a nod, she braced her hands on his shoulders and swung her leg over the seat and scooted close against his back. Angela wrapped her arms around his middle.

“Better hold on tight,” he said, patting the hands already hugging his stomach.

The bike roared to life beneath them. The vibrations rocked every fiber of Angie’s body. Arlen hit the throttle and pushed away from the curb. Before she could even realize what had happened, they were off and tearing down the streets. Arlen took a few quick turns and was driving up the entrance ramp of Interstate Ten.

Arlen zipped in and out of traffic as if there was no one else on the highway. They were heading to the northern part of the city, but she quit paying attention. The wind whipped through her hair and caressed her skin. She hadn’t felt so free since…who knew when?

Less than ten minutes later, they’d pulled to a stop at the city park. Angela was confused. It was a little odd, but she was somewhat prepared to roll with it.

The park wasn’t as busy as she thought it might be. Where people usually jogged and played Frisbee, there was no one. Throughout the entire trek, she only saw four other people and two of them had been homeless.

The McDonogh Oak Tree loomed before them, standing tall. Angela had played there as a child, marveling at the twisted limbs and lifted roots.

“This is what I wanted to show you.”

Angie smoothed her hands over the rough bark of the trunk. It was so beautiful in its own way. The single Oak had stood the test of time and each twisted branch, each break had been hard earned. It had seen the metropolis crawl up out of the swamp. It had seen the Native Americans hunting and going to war with neighboring tribes. She couldn’t fathom what else the eight-hundred-year old tree had seen.

“Thank you. It’s so beautiful.” And it was. She was touched by the simplicity of it.

“Come on. I’ll give you a boost,” he said, holding out a hand to her.

She paused, staring at him as if he’d lost his damn mind. Glancing back and forth between the tree and him, she crossed her arms across her chest.

“You do know you aren’t supposed to climb on it right?” she pointed out, motioning to the support beams under the larger branches.

“What good are rules if you don’t break one now and again?”

Arlen swung up onto a branch and climbed until he was just above her. He bent down and extended a hand to her. Be brave. Just do it, she thought to herself. Angela shoved her hand into his before she could talk herself out of it. The man lifted her up onto the branch beside him as if she weighed nothing at all.

He was like a superhero.

Her superhero.

She pushed the idea away before she let herself contemplate it. Angie needed to steer clear of that sort of craziness even if the guy in question was arguably the sexiest man she’d seen in person.

Standing tall on the branch, he climbed higher. As if on autopilot, Angela got up and followed. The tree was so old and gnarled, its limbs were as fat as a sidewalk and it made climbing a breeze. Arlen must be part monkey, she thought as he hopped from branch to branch without ever needing to sure up his footing.

Finally, he stopped and sat down on a thick branch, leaving Angie enough room to sit next to him comfortably.

She was panting and had worked up a bit of a sweat during the climb. Angie wasn’t half as good at it as Arlen had been and each new branch had meant she had to double check her balance before moving on to the next one.

“What the hell? Are you Tarzan or something?” she asked, swinging one leg over the branch so she was straddling it. Their knees were close to touching and if Angie moved even slightly, she’d feel his warm skin against hers.

Arlen seemed confused by her question and when he didn’t reply, she added, “You know? The Ape Man?”

“I spent a lot of time in trees when I was a boy.”

She could picture him almost perfectly as a child. He looked like a little angel with permanently scraped knees and bruises.

“So, tell me about yourself. What’s your family like?” Angie asked curiously.

With a deep sigh, he leaned back against the tree trunk and looked deep into her eyes.

“My family died a long time ago. Now, its just me.”

She could see the sorrow and regret as plain as day. He still mourned for them.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.”

She didn’t want to ask what happened. One didn’t lose their entire family without something tragic occurring.

“What about you?”

Angie didn’t know where to start. Her family was a mess. She figured that was a conversation best left for perhaps a second or third date.

“Let’s not get too heavy right now. Besides, my family could take us all week to discuss. What do you do for a living?”

He picked a leaf from a nearby limb and shredded it while he contemplated his answer. She thought it was odd. What type of job would make a guy like Arlen clam up? Shit, maybe he was a mob boss? Or a drug dealer? However, neither really seemed to fit into the stereotypes.

“I guess you could say I find people and things which don’t want to be found.”

What the hell did that mean? The man was a mystery wrapped up in a delicious enigmatic package and she couldn’t figure out what to make of him or what he’d said.

“Like a private investigator or something?”

His head bobbed back and forth in a, eh, maybe, kind of fashion. “Yeah, something like that.”

He found people for a living. Missing people. It made her think of something which had been bothering her for a while. She had been too afraid to ask before because she was scared of what answer she’d get.

“Would you be able to find Maya?”

The last she’d seen of her, her friend had been in a dire situation. Those assholes had magic and demons, but her best friend had still charged in there to get her out. Those men had every intention of killing her, they’d said as much. She had been mentally preparing herself for the news that Maya hadn’t made it out.

Arlen’s face went slack and he appeared to have had the air sucked right out of him. He hadn’t been ready for her question and the fact that he couldn’t find the words to tell her told her everything she needed to know. Maya had died in the St. Louis Cathedral that night. Her eyes began to mist up and a thick knot formed in her throat.

Maya Thibodeau had been the closest thing she’d ever really had to family. They considered each other sisters in every way, other than blood. She’d been the calm to Angie’s storm and her anchor in life.

Angie tearfully nodded her understanding and studied the beauty of the empty park as if it could bring her friend back. Arlen’s hand gently touched her shoulder.

“She’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s just complicated,” he explained.

It was the first time in longer than she was comfortable with that she’d felt the promise of better things. It was hope. She didn’t understand what he meant, the only thing that mattered was that Maya was, in fact, alive.

Arlen spent the next several hours explaining everything that had happened. He had begun even before she’d been kidnapped. Brad had targeted her to get close to Maya and ultimately died a most dreadful, and deserved death.

By the end of his marathon of a story, Angie was floored and overwhelmed. Her friend had been through hell, then literally gone to Hell, or Guinee, or whatever they wanted to call it.

“Wow.”

Magic? Voodoo gods? Baca-something-or-others? What the hell was happening to the world?

She’d never believed in such things before, but something about the way Arlen told the story with such conviction made her believe him wholeheartedly. Angie turned to him with the intent of saying something, though nothing would come out. How could she reply to that?

“It’s a lot to take in all at once.”

“Yeah,” Angie huffed.

The sun had risen high into the sky since they’d arrived and was starting its slow descent towards the horizon. Her companion watched her every move and Angie was sure he was waiting for her to have an epic freak out. The explanation felt right and things were beginning to make sense. Those people had done something to her and she’d come out the other side with the visions. The shadows weren’t demons either, they were spirits of a sort. She still remembered the way their claws had torn at her. Those marks still hadn’t healed all the way.

“I never thought anything like this was possible, yet it is. I’ve seen it. It’s not like I can say it’s not true,” she quipped with a giggle.

“I never thought meeting you was possible,” he mumbled hesitantly.

What a strange thing to say. His words touched something deep inside her though. Did he care for her? A funny sensation in her chest felt like it was tugging her towards Arlen. She’d never felt anything like it until she’d met him. She hoped he did because it would validate everything she was feeling for him. Angie couldn’t even explain it. Something about Arlen made her want to bask in his presence. He was addictive even if he was quiet and broody. Sometimes, he was too serious for her though. He needed to lighten up a bit.

“Well, I never would’ve thought I’d be sitting in the park with a purple haired man, but here we are.” She chuckled and reached out to nudge his shoulder.

He laughed. “Okay, fair enough.”

His laugh was deep like his voice, but it was a magical sound. It was one she wanted to hear every day.

“Now, you have to tell me. Is that hair real? Or the best dye job I’ve ever seen?”

Her bet was the latter. It hadn’t blown off in the wind on their way to the park, so she doubted it was a wig. His eyebrows were so dark she was sure they were black, however when the sun hit them they had a violet glint.

“Unfortunately, I have to claim it. It’s all natural.” He looked a little uncomfortable talking about himself, but he didn’t object.

“Hmm, I wonder. Do the drapes match the carpet?”

“I don’t have carpet in the apartment. I’m not really sure what that has to do with my hair,” he said, not understanding her innuendo.

“Um, never mind. It’s just a saying,” she rushed out. Her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

She didn’t think to question his answer. Angie didn’t understand how a man like him could have such a vivid color naturally, but she’d also never thought magic was real. She was just sort of rolling with it. Anything was possible. The pair resumed their awkward silence, neither knowing quite what to say to the other.

“What do you think of it?” Arlen asked after a while, gesturing to the empty park before them.

Green grass stretched out for blocks, dotted with massive oaks like the one they were sitting in.

“It’s beautiful. Peaceful, even if we are breaking the rules,” she said, side eyeing her new friend.

That was a good place to start… as friends. Even if they never went beyond the friend zone, they could be friends. Angie found that even outside her overwhelming sexual attraction to Arlen, she enjoyed his company and his dry sense of humor. It made it worthwhile to see his genuine laughs.

“Yes, it is. I like to come here sometimes when I need to relax or think, or when I just want to escape for a bit.”

Arlen pressed the flat of his hand against the harsh tree bark. He reminded Angela of a man greeting an old friend. That place brought him peace and that was enough to make Angela cherish it just as much as he did.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Angie peeked up at him from under hooded eyes. When had they gotten so close? Who had made the move? Angie’s thoughts were scrambled. His gaze was fixed on her lips.

They were both creeping towards the other. Gooseflesh rippled over her arms in anticipation. The tension between them was so thick, it could have been cut with a knife. His eyes broke away from her waiting lips to her eyes, asking permission. Angie gave a slight nod, wanting him to kiss her more than anything. They inched towards each other, about to make contact when a shrill chiming sounds erupted between them.