Page 12 of Black Box

‘Yes,’ I reply quickly, bumping my knee on the table as I hastily rise from the chair and make my way back to bedroom to get my cigarettes and coat.

I yank my coat off the chair in the bedroom and decide I’d better put a sweater on between my T-shirt and coat. Then I pull on two pairs of socks under my boots and head out to the living room. Crush is standing just inside the enormous glass door leading out to the terrace. He’s wearing a gray beanie and a serious expression that makes me smile inside.

‘Pull up the hood of your coat,’ he says, holding out an open bottle of beer as I approach.

‘So bossy.’ I accept the beer, taking a large swig as he reaches for the door handle.

He twists the handle slowly and carefully pulls the door inward. The snow falls softly over the outdoor table and chairs. But it’s the glow of the city lights, muted by the haze of snowflakes, that’s mesmerizing. Crush pulls his coat tighter as he waits for me to step outside.

‘I should have changed into some jeans,’ I say, my teeth chattering as I trudge through the snow toward the large stone spheres poised atop the iron railing surrounding the terrace.

The terrace is huge. Four wrought-iron tables covered in snow fit comfortably in the space. I find myself imagining rich people in their tuxedos and cocktail dresses hobnobbing on the terrace, sipping thirty-year-old bourbon and discussing the stock market. Crush could be one of those people, though he certainly doesn’t look or act like one.

‘Where are your gloves?’ he asks, shutting the glass door behind him.

‘I forgot them.’

‘I’ll hold your beer.’

He holds his hand out and I shake my head despite the fact that I can already feel the cold penetrating the soft pads of my fingers and into my bones. ‘No, thanks.’

The stone spheres on the railing are covered in cone-shaped piles of snow. I brush the snow off the sphere nearest me and attempt to balance my beer on top.

‘My granddad used to say that he never left New England because magical things happen in the snow.’

My fingers are really starting to ache, so I guzzle down the rest of my beer and toss the empty bottle onto the snow-covered table behind us. I turn back to the railing and Crush is gazing up at the sky with a wistful look on his face as the snowflakes fall on his cheeks.

‘This is the same granddad that gave you the book?’

He looks down at me and my stomach flips. ‘This was the last thing he gave me before he died.’ For a moment, I assume he’s talking about the book, until he reaches into his coat pocket and comes up with a crushed penny. ‘It’s my lucky penny. I use it every time I have an important performance.’

‘You have a lucky penny?’

He gazes into my eyes and nods. ‘Do you believe in fate?’

‘No.’

‘Neither do I. Do you believe in luck?’

‘Yes.’

‘What’s the difference?’ His gaze is intense as he awaits my answer.

‘I don’t know. You’re the one with the lucky penny. You tell me. What’s the difference between fate and luck?’

He smiles and turns his attention back to the view of the city. ‘Fate is for fairy tales. It’s a romantic notion. Luck is what happens when you’re in the right place at the right time . . . with the right person.’

A shiver travels through me and I tuck my hands inside my coat pockets. I lean over the railing to get a view of the street below and Crush grabs my arm.

‘Please don’t do that.’

‘Do what? I was just looking at the street.’

Not that it didn’t cross my mind to leap, but we’re only four stories up. Not high enough.

His eyes are fixed on my arm where his immense hand is clasped around my bicep. It takes a moment for me to realize that this is the first time he’s touched me and I didn’t flinch.

He gently releases his hold on me. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you. Just instinct, I guess.’

‘That’s okay.’ I pull my lighter and pack of Lucky Strikes out of my pocket.

He glances at my cigarettes and smiles. ‘You smoke Luckies?’

‘My best friend Rina smokes a Blackjack, but I can’t do that. I don’t smoke just because I’m addicted to the nicotine. I like the flavor.’

‘Where’s your best friend now?’

I pop the cigarette in my mouth, but the snow and the slight breeze keep stamping out the lighter’s flame. Crush cups his hands around my hands and the flame holds as I draw a long pull on the cigarette. His face is less than a foot away from mine as he slowly lowers his hands. I don’t notice I’m holding my breath until I begin to choke on the smoke. I turn my head away so I don’t cough in his face, but when I turn back he’s still there.

‘Are you all right?’

‘I’ll live.’

‘Not if you keep smoking those.’

My face twitches with all the things I wish I could say. Instead, I take one more long pull on the cigarette, watching as the cherry burns its way up the cigarette toward my mouth. Then I flick the cigarette off the balcony and exhale as I make my way back into the hotel room.

Peeling off my coat, I toss it onto the round, mahogany coffee table before I plop down onto the sofa in the living room. He comes in a few minutes later and sits next to me. I can feel the cold emanating from his snow-dusted coat and I get an urge to tell him to take his coat off or he’ll catch cold.

He pulls off his beanie and tosses it onto the table, on top of my coat, then he leans back on the sofa and stares up at the ceiling. ‘I think I know why you don’t want to go home.’

My phone vibrates in my back pocket, but I continue to ignore the ringing and the voicemails the way I have been all day. But just a few seconds later, Crush’s phone begins to ring. He slips the phone out of his jeans pocket and answers.

‘Hello?’

I get a weird, painful sensation in my chest as I watch him on the phone, hoping it’s not a girlfriend. I watch his lips as he speaks, unable to hear his words. All I can see is the perfect peaks at the top of his lip; the juicy pink color; and the curve of his mouth – that smile. I tear my gaze away from his mouth. He’s smiling because he’s caught me staring at his lips.

‘It’s the airline,’ he whispers, pointing at his phone and still flashing me that knowing smile.

I nod as I shoot up from the sofa and grab my coat off the table. I make my way back to the bedroom and slam the door shut behind me. Sitting down on the edge of the bed, I hastily begin removing my boots, but I leave on the sweater I’m wearing over my T-shirt. I curl up on the bed and try not to think about his lips.

I haven’t kissed anyone since before the incident at Uncle Cort’s house last summer. The last guy I kissed tasted like tequila. It was a few nights before I graduated from alternative high school. My parents were out for the night, playing poker at Aunt Crystal’s house the way they always do on Saturday nights. Rina brought over a couple of guys she met at Starbucks and we all got drunk in my bedroom. Both guys were pretty cute, but the one with the darker hair and the lip ring that lined up with mine when we kissed was definitely hotter. I don’t even remember his name and it was only seven months ago. But I do remember what he said to me when I refused to do anything more than just kiss.

If we’re not going to fuck, what’s the point?

He was right. If you’re not going to go all the way, what’s the point of doing anything? Why get out of bed if you don’t have the courage to leave the house? Why make the phone call if you’re too afraid to ask someone out? What’s the point of existing if you’re too chickenshit to live?

I consider leaving Mikki alone for the rest of the night, but in the end I decide against it. If I leave her alone, she’ll probably stay awake all night obsessing over the fact that I caught her staring at my mouth. I should at least try to ease her embarrassment before I go to bed.

I knock softly and I’m not at all surprised by her immediate response.

‘G

oodnight!’ she shouts from inside the bedroom.

‘Don’t you want to know what the airline said?’ I shout back.

I imagine she’s probably letting out a deep sigh as she realizes she can’t avoid me. A minute later, the door opens just a crack as she stares at the floor.

‘What did they say?’

I take a step back, hoping this will put her at ease. ‘The flight was rescheduled to Thursday night at six. Does that work for you?’

She shrugs without looking up. ‘I don’t have much of a choice, do I?’

‘They gave me a number you can call if you want to reschedule, but that’s the soonest they could get us on a new flight.’

Her mouth drops open a little. ‘What about your song? Will you still be able to record it?’

‘I’ll call the producer tomorrow and see if we can reschedule.’

‘And if he can’t?’

She finally looks up and I gaze into her eyes for a moment before I answer. ‘Then I’ll have to wait for another stroke of luck.’

Her lip trembles and she quickly shuts the door. ‘Goodnight.’ Her voice is barely audible through the door, and the tears.

‘Goodnight.’

I stand just outside her door for a moment, wondering if I should leave. My mind flashes to the screaming red marks and the scars I saw all over the tops of her thighs. I know I can’t stop her from feeling like she wants to hurt herself, but I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight worrying about what she may or may not be doing in that room.

I raise my hand and pause for a second before I knock again. She doesn’t answer right away like she did last time, so I knock again. She still doesn’t answer. I call her name through the door, but still no reply. I try the handle and it’s not locked. Turning the handle slowly, I expect her to push the door closed on me, but she never does. And, soon, the door is wide open and the sound of running water greets my ears.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com