Blood and Shadow - Pt. 3

Amy was having breakfast with her mother, the pain of which was written across her face in plane shades that she tried to hide behind her coffee cup.

“I am of course expecting no later than September or October, assuming we don’t get Alex’ parents to finally agree to move the wedding up a year—which I think your father is going to be able to do in the next few months if he and Sam keep playing golf together.”

“I’m sorry, I think I lost you there mother,” she hadn’t, but Amy was still a little shocked and wanted to make sure to point it out. “You expect me to have a child, when exactly?”

“Well I’m hoping around nine months or so after the wedding, but no reason you can’t start trying before.” Her tone was like that of a teacher who was just stating a fact of an assignment. “Go ahead so we can see if you have a boy or not, determine how many children we’ll want and such while you’re still young.”

She just stared at her mother with her upper lip twisted in a sour expression, trying to get her point across.

“We should discuss names as well. George Hamilton for the first born boy of course, after your father, but I am sure you’ll have at least one girl if not more.”

Amy groaned. “For God sakes mother I’m not even sure-“

“You know what this means to your father and I.”

“Yes, to you two, what about me?”

Deborah wasn’t looking at her daughter anymore and hardly listening. She had removed a small compact mirror and was checking under her eyes and around her lips.

“Amy,” she paused, “dear you’re going to be well taken care of. You know that. After the baby is born and we find a suitable Au Pair you’ll have a lot of free time on your hands to do what you want. You should be thrilled.

“Why, so I cannot spend any time with my child or the man I’m married to?”

Amy wasn’t sure her mother was even going to answer her question. That was okay though because her phone rang with something a little more important.

“Hello,” she said glad for the distraction, “yes, this is she.”

She fell quiet and just listened for several moments. Her mother still hadn’t noticed until Amy finally responded to the voice on the other end of the phone. “Yes, I understand. Please let me know as soon as he is put into a room.” Her mother raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Thank you,” she said before hanging up. Amy was staring at her phone for a moment as her thumb fumbled to try to operate it.

“Well,” her mother asked, not happy when she didn’t know something. It wasn’t that she hated being left out of the loop as much as she was used to being the loop.

“It’s… Preston,” Amy spat out and finally just put her phone down for a moment, regaining her composure. “He’s in the hospital, he’s really sick.” She stood. “I need to go see him, I need to get a cab.” Amy was shoveling everything back into her purse and looking for the check. It was all quite overwhelming. Her mother said something to her about slowing down or some such like that, but all she could do was try and breathe.

“Oh, the foul mouthed child you brought to dinner.”

“Mother,” the comment was sobering to Amy. “Don’t.”

She handed her mother the check and repositioned her purse another time before turning to walk out.

“Amy, stop. I can have the care come pick us up. You aren’t thinking clearly.”

            “I, fine, let’s just hurry.”

            As she waited for her mother to pay the check and take her time speaking to the waitress about her tip it gave Amy’s mind a moment to think.

            “Alex,” she said out loud in an almost hushed tone as the thought struck her. “He was doing rounds at Mercy Hope today.”

            She quickly dialed his number, unsure if he would pick up since he was at work and probably following other doctors around. There were four rings and she was already contemplating how to word the message but he picked up.

            “Darling, this is odd getting a call from you.”

            “I know, I know,” in fact she was almost never the one who called him, “I need a favor Alex, I’m sorry.”

            “Are we still on for tonight?”

            “Yes, well maybe…I’m not cancelling I just.” She stopped and realized she just needed to pause a moment. “I need you to check in on someone for me please. I have a very sick friend and I need to know what’s going on. I know you’ll explain it to me.”

            The hospital waiting room moved around Amy. She was unaware of what was going on as she watched the set of double doors waiting for something to happen, someone to explain. The only thing that existed to her right then was her phone. She had been trying to keep herself busy through texting. It helped her in other situations, why not now? She had sent April about nine messages but there was little her coffee pal could do. She texted Pam, Preston’s sister, but she was busy dealing with her family who were currently out of the country. She had even sent Miguel a very vague worrisome text that he had responded to in typical fashion, too calmly. She wasn’t calm right now though and she wouldn’t be calm until she heard the answers she was looking for.

            Her mother sat beside her, uncomfortable and out of place. She had been holding a tissue up to her mouth in fear of catching something. This was one of the few times Deborah would attempt to show her support for her daughter, even though from what little bit of interactions she had with Preston she felt that nothing of importance was on the line. The truth was that she couldn’t tell you the names of any of Amy’s friends that she was currently still friends with. If you had asked her she would have rambled off names from play dates that stretched back to when Amy was eight. Preston was the only one of her friends who she could convince to try and deal with her parents for an evening, he thought it was entertaining of course. Deborah had pondered how long she was obligated to stay here and still look like she was being supportive. What amazes me is that at no point in this woman’s adult life did she ever think she was a horrible mother. You could blame that on her mother, who was worse, but I digress again.

            Amy’s mother had felt that instead of being there and coddling her child it was best to teach her how to deal with things, how to survive. When Amy was fifteen and got caught giving Philip White a blowjob at that private school in Westchester she didn’t scold her but explained to her why she should keep her options open and at the same time not appear as a slut to others. When she failed a test she would hire tutors or donate money to the school. When it came to the matter of men breaking her heart, or the time Mr. Snuffles die, it was a matter of teaching her how to move on and learn from the situation. Her father was actually more comforting in some ways, even though he was still the strong silent type, she was daddy’s little girl after he got over the fact that he’d never have his little boy.

            Amy didn’t expect any type of comfort from her mother. She was surprised she actually came inside. She had almost forgotten that her mother was sitting there until she finally spoke up.

            “So who was it that called you again, dear?”

            “Pamela, his sister,” she said distantly.

            “What did she say?”

            There was a pause.

            “She was supposed to go meet him but he didn’t answer his door, it was unlocked though. She found him upstairs with just a sheet around him. He had fallen out of bed and she said he was hot to the touch, feverish. It looks like he had a rough night.” She paused again, checking her phone, disgusted not to find no new messages. “I’m not sure about when they got him here. She said they didn’t know much, just that he was critical and not responding.”

            Her mother pondered how to respond but figured it best not to. She instead watched the clock for several long minutes but before her own phone rang.

            “It’s your father. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

            Deborah wandered off as she spoke to her husband, having to remind herself for the third time who they were there in the hospital to see. Amy actually felt a little bit better, more relaxed to worry, with her mother gone. She felt her hand shake just a bit as she raised her phone up to check yet another time. Before she could open the slider the double doors broke their silence and a thud of heavy material let her know someone was there to speak.

            She had never been so happy to see Alexander Hawethorn more than she was at that moment. Somehow the small white coat actually made him seem less like a douche, or perhaps that was her hoping that he was bringing good news. She leapt up from the waiting room chair and made her way to him in one large energetic step. His expression was hard to read though and that concerned her. Amy was good at reading him, even if it usually boiled down to one of three things. This was a new situation for them, for their relationship.

            “Sorry I’m late. Dr. Connors wanted me to look at something.”

            She found herself standing very close to him, her hands gripping his forearms as if she might fall. The amount of comfort found in her fiancé at that moment was a level she hadn’t even experienced when he was inside of her. She needed the stability though and it might have looked odd to ask Miguel to be there for her.

            “Did you—that’s fine—did you get a chance to look at Preston?”

            “Yeah, I did.” She felt him shift and what she thought might actually be a hug turned out to be his escape to the coffee machine. “I got a chance to look at his charts,” he said while he fished some change from his pocket and fed it into the machine. “His fever keeps coming back every time after they break it and it’s almost like he’s in some state of shock with the way his scans are showing up. Anything he says has been incoherent and as far as they can tell his blood is clean, it isn’t anything he’s taken.” He took a long sip and made an unsatisfied expression at the taste, though he should have been used to it. “They’re running some more tests.”

            “What,” the words just weren’t working for her. “is he- I mean- is he going to be okay though? There’s no chance he could…die, right?”

            He sipped his coffee as his eyes narrowed. For the first time Alex realized this wasn’t just about some acquaintance lying on a bed in the room down the hall. Alexander was a little overconfident though, he didn’t think he had any real challengers out there so to speak, but being the dutiful boyfriend right now would do him a lot of good. His hand gently pulled her close.

            “He’ll be fine. I’ll check in on him first thing in the morning.” He gave her the best smile he could and Amy bought it.

            There was no reason to stick around the hospital. They weren’t letting anyone in to see Preston and his sister was too busy and frazzled herself. She and Alex were supposed to go out that night, their first of what was supposed to be many more dates, now that he was coming to the end of his med school tenure. They ordered in instead and watched a documentary on plastic surgery. Amy was distant and still checking her phone for any news. Alex was wondering if tonight was still going to be good for sex at least, it wasn’t.

            It was an early night for both of them. Alex had to get up early for his medical rounds and she had a client. Neither one of them really slept well that night. It was when Amy finally did fall into slumber that she regretted it.

            In the darkness of Alex’s apartment Amy dreamt. Her legs twitched and fingers gripped the covers in uncomfortable spasms while her subconscious worked overtime. Beads of sweat popped up from the pores on her forehead. Jerking up out of bed she almost threw herself off of it. Alex lazily rose and narrowed his eyes at her.

            “Amy?”

            “I’m okay,” she responded, almost out of breath as she stood.

            She stumbled into the bathroom as her fingertips trailed along the white smooth wall to guide her. The door shut as the light came on. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror and splashed water on her face from the faucet. She had to struggle to remember what she looked like, the only thing she could remember at that moment was the face from her nightmare. 

Blood and Shadow - Pt. 2

Preston Black is a waste of space. Alright, perhaps that isn’t everyone’s opinion, certainly not his. I am entitled to my own though and I believe him to be a weak-willed self-important scab who tries to masquerade as something important other than a pimple on the ass of the world. He’s someone who sits in bars all night because he feels that nothing can happen to him, good or bad, if he just sits at home. Everything is an experience. He has one real friend and he thinks everyone else he knows is his friend also, this is a lie. Most of them dislike him or distrust him greatly. He’s a little conceded when he speaks and has a way of being crass without realizing it. He’s the kind of dick who comes across as slightly socially awkward until you really think about it and you remove the word slightly.

In Preston’s mind; his name is Preston Byron Black. How could you be anything less but spectacular with that name? His father’s name was Preston and he had a reputation for being one of the best lawyers in the state. No one got anything over on his father. His mother was an English teacher who had focused her studies on the Byronic hero, thus she chose her son’s middle name to her liking and fought her husband’s wish for their son to be Preston George Black the second. At some point in his pretentious youth though Preston decided that with a name like that he was destined for greatness to fall into his lap. Something had to happen, he just had to get out there and let it slap him in the face. In truth though, the idea of nothing ever happening to him was just too depressing that it scared him. He even took up journalism because he thought he would be famous for breaking some story or get thrust in the middle of some trouble that would lead to his adventure. I told you he was pathetic.

I blame his parents. Parents today lie to their kids and indulge them in fantasies, telling them they can be someone or an astronaut or some other such nonsense when they should be saying, just aim for that bachelors degree and a job you won’t go on a killing spree at dear. Anything else just isn’t promised to you and is most likely and unrealistic dream. Every mother thinks their child is an angel and tells them so, mothers lie. Nothing had happened to him though. There was no great mystery, adventure, or super powers that had been thrust upon him. No, Preston Black was never going to live up to his own expectations. Instead he tried to impress everyone around him while still waiting for Destiny to walk up and slap him in the face.

He met Amy almost three years ago at the college and he was immediately attracted to her. He made a reason to say hello one cold evening and then offered his jacket. She had smiled at him. It was love at first sight. That’s just it though, it wasn’t for her. He thought she might be having these same stirring feelings without doing any real investigating and the moment she didn’t respond the way he thought she should he tried to switch up his tactics. He was almost mean to her, it had worked for others, and it had worked in the movies so why wouldn’t it work here? When that didn’t get the job done he tried to become more amusing and through a series of failed attempts when he should have stayed the course as himself Amy had found a new friend and Preston found a girl to work towards that he would never be able to make work without dropping everything. Let’s not dwell on that though.

Tonight like many others Preston set alone on a stool in Barcade staring at a napkin he had scribbled some words down on. His usual partner in crime had a prior engagement and although there were plenty of attractive eager women around him his confidence had that same prior engagement. It’s okay though, because if Amy had skipped her date with Dr. Douche and gone out with him tonight the evening may have gone much differently. You see Preston was right, he was a part of something bigger. He was waiting for destiny to come slap him on the ass and introduce him to her friend opportunity. That just wasn’t in his cards. Preston was never meant to be a leading man; rather a pawn in a much larger scheme.

            “Jack and coke,” a woman’s voice exclaimed loudly right near his ear as she tried to push her way in between him and another woman at the bar who reluctantly scooted over and let her nudge in.

            He was about to say something snarky to her, wondering why she hadn’t gone to the other end of the bar where it was clearly less crowded. His mouth opened to say the words and dash her across the rocks for bothering him but he saw her eyes. In the light they were almost purple.

            “Excuse me,” she said halfheartedly to him as she leaned over the stool the other woman had abandoned and yelled her order once more to the bartender. She was wearing a black button up shirt with a ruffled collar over a thin tank-top. The dark jean shorts that went with it were about as short as they could be, but she had the legs to pull them off. She was smiling with the grin of a mischief-maker who had just found something to get into, or the other way around.

            “Why do you look like you’re moping in a bar filled with people and classic arcade games?”

            It was an honest question she had asked, to anyone other than Preston who jumped to being defensive about his mood.

            “What,” he was surprised at the brazen nature of her question. “I’m not mopey, I was thinking about some writing.” He had never met this girl before and was already a bit put off by her. He was used to being the one making people feel that way.

            She smiled, “I’m sorry, this is too perfect. You’re telling me that the forlorn writer came to a place filled with people to try to exist in a world by himself while he pondered his work?” She laughed and took her drink.

            “Where do you get off?”

            She took a long drink and leaned back on the stool, propped against the bar.

            “Well everyone else came here to meet people, have fun, maybe make some mistakes. So that is what I’m doing, and that’s where I get off, as you said.” She took a long drink of the dark liquor as he watched her.

            “Why have I never seen you here before?”

            “It’s a big city.”

            “I’m here a lot.”

            She smirked, “Maybe this isn’t the best place to write?”

            “A point that’s hard to argue,” Preston stood and waved the bartender over and paid for his tab and motioned that the girl’s drink was on him as well, a girl like her never really had to pay for her own drinks. “Why don’t we get out of here then and go someplace else, somewhere not too pretentious.”

            “I just got here. I had plans to play some games.” She said but her eyes begged a retort. She drank in the last bit of booze from the glass and placed it back on the bar.

            “Right,” he smirked at her and stepped closer, his voice still raised a bit to make sure she could still hear him. “Well I promise you I’m better than any of the games in here, other than maybe “Contra”, and you won’t have to wait in line or wade through people if we get out of here.”

            Looking back over her shoulder, as if considering, she paused and let out an inaudible sight. She offered her arm to the young suitor. “Fine, but you had better at least be “Paper-boy” kind of fun or I’m going to demand some free quarters for my next trip.”

            The two stepped out onto the sidewalk and witnessed a near wreck between two cars as they both paused, seeing which way the other would go.

            “I’m Alma by the way, if you’re the type that likes names with faces.”

            “Preston,” he said and should have stopped there, “as long as the name is equally beautiful as the face.”

            “Charming, which way are we heading heartbreaker?”

            “Preston,” he told her.

            “Really? There are real people named that,” she laughed. “I mean, I probably won’t remember it anyway but that’s still cute.”

            “Oh, I’m glad my parents could amuse you. Alma isn’t exactly a common name either.”

            “No but it doesn’t make me sound like I have a trust fund either. What is your last name, Hilton, Rockefeller, Hawthorn?”

            He raised an eyebrow. “No, no it’s Black.”

            “Oohh, how ominous,” she seemed genuinely intrigued, interested, something. He couldn’t put his finger on it but he felt like he had made all the right moves. “Well Mr. Black, Mr. Preston Black, where are we headed?”

            She leaned in as her fingers played with the line of his jacket as if she were inspecting the material. She was good.

            “There’s a park near here. I thought we could go take a walk and get to know each other.” It was his step two. Fault him as you will but Preston needed a girl who was talented in bed but could hold a conversation before and afterwards. “There’s also an amazing ice cream place in Chinatown if that’s more your style.”

            “Oh, and here I was thinking you were trying to get me to your apartment.”

            He laughed, “You move fast.”

             “I’ve got a long night planned ahead of me and I don’t care much for wasting time,” her smile was inviting but it quickly pulled back as if she realized she may have come on too strong. “Unless bedding me wasn’t what you were after, I’m a little quick to react sometimes.”

            ‘No, you weren’t wrong.”

            Preston couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he stepped one foot out into the street and lifted his hand, waiting for the first cab that would stop. He opened the door for his new companion and spent a lot of the ride to his apartment admiring her legs and she was more than willing to present herself for inspection. Alma worked hard on her appearance, she was a fetish model, but she didn’t tell Preston that. She told him that she was in school for art, the best lies are half-truths. He spilled a little more than he meant to towards her. This was the first woman in a long time that Preston hadn’t hated or found repulsive for one reason or another, other than his best friend of course. The right type of girl for him had to have a little bit of that same venom he possessed, a hatred for the world and all of the sheep in it, but a desire to live and be something, like Preston thought he was supposed to be. Alma was about to help show Preston how important he really was, even if it was as a tool.

            He had paid the cab driver quickly so that he could unlock the door. Something perhaps made him think that she would change her mind after coming this far with him. A slight nagging at the back of his mind wondered if he was rushing into—literally—someone that he needed to be slow with and nurture a good relationship, what would Amy say in this situation? What would her advice be. He sent her a text to have his curiosity sated.

            Message to Amy: “Found something I like”

Mistake or not, Alma wasn’t going to wait to find out. Preston realized she had set her mind on something and so she would have it. As soon as the door to his apartment was open she had already left her shoes at the door and her black button-up shirt draped across the banister.

Preston wrapped his arm around her waist and went into kiss her after laying his keys down on the counter.

“I was going to ask if you wanted a drink or something but I guess not.”

She side-stepped the kiss and smirked, “actually that’d be awesome, and some music too.” She was being playful and he was happy to oblige. “Where’s the bedroom, upstairs?”

“Yep,” Preston said walking to his liquor cabinet. He heard her feet heading up the steps behind him as he found something light for her. He decided against pouring himself one as he threw his jacket onto the couch and walked over to his stereo. Nine Inch Nails and Pearl Jam were his only two current choices in the CD player and as you can imagine he wanted to hurry upstairs. He let Trent do his work and went to grab her drink as he heard her move around up there.

Upstairs, Alma had taken a look at the bedroom and made sure the lights were dim or out. She reached into the short shorts she had on and pulled out a folded clear bag that held something slender and dark in it. Quickly removing the contents the baggie was stuffed back into the pockets. She straightened out what appeared to be a long crow’s feather that had some type of green flakes that she tried to protect while leaning down. The black object was placed carefully under the bed in the center and she whispered something that was almost a pleading prayer.

She stood back up quickly, nervous as she unbuttoned the shorts and stepped out of them. She heard Preston coming up the steps with the drink and unclasped her bra, tossing it onto the shorts. When he got up to his room it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to see the beautiful woman with excellent curves wearing the black thong lying on his bed with her arms spread and a smile on her face. She wasn’t too thin and was in shape with curves that he couldn’t stop tracing with his eyes.

“The drink is for after. If you can’t tell I was kind of ready for you now.”

For once Preston had nothing to say. The drink was sat down to be at the ready for her when they were done and he was inside of her, in multiple positions, before their night ended. She was energetic in bed, he liked that. She was willing to follow his movements and pleasure him how she thought he wanted it. The only thing she didn’t do was scream his name. They fucked for hours. She tired him out and kept telling him he needed to do more. In the end she let him cum on her and used one of his shirts lying next to the bed to clean herself off.

She downed the drink by the bed in one gulp as he lay there, exhausted.

“Thanks champ,” she said getting dressed.

“So when are you going to let me take you out?”

“Let's see if you can find me again, then we’ll talk about that.”

“I’m there every night,” he reminded her, “and way better than “Paper-boy”, or am I wrong?”

She just smiled. “Get some rest.” She said it with little though and turned to head downstairs. She grabbed her shirt and shoes and he listened to the door shut.

“Dammit…” He should have gotten her number. He should have worn a condom. He could have done better, impressed her more. This all ran through his mind as he turned over and realized he was really tired, he needed to take her advice and get some rest. It would be one of the most sleepless nights he ever had.