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I leaned against the bar, flagging down the busy bartender.
He didn’t make me wait, in fact stopped what he was doing and came to do my bidding with a smile.
I’d been flirting with him all night, but he wasn’t my type. He was tall but his shoulders weren’t broad enough. Still, the right smile got me some amazing service.
“Hey, Scarlett,” he said, his tone when he said my name making it sound like we were old friends or new lovers. “Another scotch for you?”
“You’re the best, Benny,” I told him, leaning forward, shamelessly teasing him. “Can you make it two?”
He nodded, eyes on my cleavage. “Anything you want, gorgeous.”
“Wow,” Bastian whistled when Benny moved away to get our drinks. “If I was Dante, I would lock you up.”
“Well, that’s not what he did,” I said, and it was an effort to keep my voice steady. “He threw me away. Again.”
“Oh, Scarlett,” Bastian sighed, a world of sad sympathy in his voice that made me turn to study him. “I have a few things to ask you and so much to tell you. I’m not sure just how drunk you are, but I’m pretty positive that what I have to say will sober you up.”
That was an understatement. What he had to tell me didn’t just sober me up.
It changed everything.
*****
“She burned too bright for this world.”
~Emily Brontë
PAST
DANTE
I’d always had a soft spot for her. Since I could remember, her flashing eyes and stubborn face were dear to me.
Even before she’d decided we were friends, before our fateful bonding moment outside of the vice principal’s office when she first realized I was in her corner, I’d admired her.
Admired that she never backed down. Admired that, with the way she was treated by nearly everyone around her, she never bent, not one iota, let alone came near to breaking.
Her strength galvanized me, made me see the world in a different way.
I had it so easy. My mother was awful, my father dismal, but my life was pampered and I could escape any time I wanted, which was often, and go visit my Gram, who lived a short walk away and made up for both of my piece of shit parents and then some.
I had an anger problem and a bad attitude. This I knew. But it was Scarlett who inspired me to give those things purpose.
The first time I tried to help, she didn’t even notice me.
We were in the cafeteria at school. I was in line to get lunch, stealing glances at her.
She was by herself. She always was. She was less interested in talking to other kids than any kid I’d ever seen besides myself. Once, I’d even taken a seat across from her to eat, and she’d still barely said two words to me.
Her thick, brown hair was endearingly messy. She had the perfect face of a doll, but it was always set into hard lines, an incongruous, arresting look but one that I couldn’t stop staring at. And I stared a lot. I enjoyed watching her. She wasn’t like anybody else, didn’t react to things in the same way. I got a kick out of expecting the unexpected from her.
What made other girls cry made her throw a punch. What made boys whine made her snarl like an angry tiger.
Every inch of her tiny frame read: This girl is tough and she does not plan to deal with your shit. Do not mess with her.
So why was everyone always messing with her?
They loved to tease her about the trashcan stuff, and I thought that was about the most messed up thing ever. It set my teeth on edge. What an awful thing to tease someone about.
