“Hey Chris, we’ll see you tomorrow, dude.”

“Oh, ya’ll are leaving already?” Chris spun around in his chair, blinking up at his bandmates in confusion. He had been sitting there for about three hours working on one project, trying to keep his mind off of his silent phone.

“Yeah, I think we’re pretty caught up by now. Get out of here. Nyx is going to kill us for keeping you so long.” Ernie teased, and Chris smiled wryly. “If I could get her on the damn phone, that might be the case.”

Mike laughed. “Damn women. Get out of here, man. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright, guys. Later.” Chris watched them shuffle out of the room, sighing. He swiveled back to the computer and absentmindedly fiddled with a few buttons, but his eyes kept straying to his Iphone, laying there on the desk, its screen exasperatedly blank.

He didn’t want to stay at the studio, but he didn’t want to go home, either. He had nothing to do at home and the one person he wanted to hang out with had gone MIA on him again. Chris forced himself to avert his eyes from the phone and clicked out of the music editing program to enter the internet.

He idly checked his Myspace and Facebook and briefly considered doing a Twitter to alleviate his boredom, but he did not much feel like taking silly pictures, which was a first for Chris. He clicked random URLS and tried to watch some stupid video a fan had posted on his Facebook wall, but he knew all too well that he was stalling.

All he wanted was a fucking phone call, goddammit. Hey, how are you, yeah, I’m sorry I missed your call, I’ll be over soon, I love you, by the way.

Chris straightened up in his chair and went back to Myspace, this time with purpose. He entered ‘Nyx Dufrene’ in the search field and waited impatiently as the page loaded. You may ask why he didn’t even have his own girlfriend on his friends list-well, he had simply not gotten around to it, and when he discovered that he had gotten one positive hit off of her name, Chris kicked himself for not thinking of it before. He had simply forgotten; choosing to try and get to know her face to face. After all, she had given him the same courtesy.

Nyx Dufrene’s Myspace page stated that her last login had been a month ago, and her status read, simply, “life is…”

Life was what? Good? Horrible? Blessed? What? Chris shook his head-even her Myspace page was as impenetrable as she was. Nyx’s default picture was just as skeptical-book in her lap, her eyebrow cocked up in the familiar amused/irritated way that Chris knew; as if someone had caught her reading off-guard, her eyes a dark slash in her face. The sight of her made his skin shiver and Chris grunted in annoyance and clicked on the picture, hoping to find some small clue of who this woman really was, the woman he slept with and ate with and spent his time obsessing and worrying about.

Nyx only had one other picture in her album, and Chris brought it to full size, as if he could read her story in the pixels. It was evidently some sort of holiday, because she was dressed up (as much as Nyx allowed herself to dress up) as were the two people in the picture, who were smiling brightly compared to Nyx’s tiny side grin. The tallest of the group was a very good looking man in his early twenties. He had an Aquafresh White Strip smile and very dark and curly hair, his eyes a warm brown, his  hand resting lightly on Nyx’s waist. Chris felt a small stab of irritated jealousy about this nameless guy in Nyx’s life. She had never alluded to any other relationship except for Alan’s, which led Chris to wonder once more what else she had been hiding from him.

Beside Nyx on her other side was a very small girl, around ten or so, and one look at the quirky mouth and dark eyes told Chris that this was Nyx’s sister. Their bone structure was uncannily alike, and they could almost be twins if it wasn’t for the age difference and the fact that Nyx’s skin was extremely pale next to the little girl’s olive tone, which the older man shared. This soothed Chris’s worries-this was evidently a brother or a cousin that he was so jealous of. He shook his head sheepishly. Gotta give her more credit than that, he thought, but a little voice in his head quipped, should you?

The last person in the picture was not smiling at all, and stood behind Nyx and the little sister, almost as an afterthought, looking sullen and bitter. Chris blinked-unless his eyes were deceiving him in his old age-that was Christobel. She bore only the faintest resemblance to the Christobel that he knew-her face was fatter, and she looked droopy, as if all her skin had been deflated. Her hair was no longer bottle blonde, it was dark like bitter chocolate and fell limply from a sloppy bun. Her eyes burned at him, and Chris remembered what Nyx had told him on their first date.

“Is that why she’s so...you know…towards you?” Chris tentatively asked, and she laughed. “Oh, you picked that up? I guess she’s hated me since we were younger but Alan made it much, much worse. Her mom married from the bayou, beneath our family, kind of watered down the gene pool, if you ask me. She likes to give herself airs, as you saw, like she was born into Alan’s lifestyle, but she’s nothing more then a mule in horses’ harness.”

If Nyx had never let that slip, Chris would have been able to pick all of that up from this one picture. Christobel looked like the odd one out, the right answer in one of those ‘which one of these things are not like the other’ tests. Compared to the exotic looks of the other three, Christobel looked less then plain and for once Chris could not blame her for her despicable attitude. Despite his intense dislike of Nyx’s cousin, he could only imagine what it felt like to be constantly shunted to the side. He had grown up in a hard life, but Chris had never lacked for love from his family. Pity flooded him, and he sat back and contemplated this new turn of events, wondering why he felt so badly for the one person who would love to ruin his own girlfriend and send her back from whence she came.

Nyx had never said it outright, but that day in his kitchen when she had brought up looking for apartments had made it very clear that Christobel was putting some sort of pressure on her to leave. Chris knew Alan would have never insisted that Nyx move out and wouldn’t even notice if the water bill had jumped to fantastical proportions. The man had as much, if not more, money then Chris did and a few zeros tacked on to the end of the utility bills probably didn’t even grab his attention. Besides, Chris knew that Nyx was wary of putting down any hard roots in Florida if she could help it-getting kicked out of the Cranes’s house was the only way she’d be forced to get an apartment. He was smart enough to know that their relationship was not the only factor to why she stayed in Orlando-she was running from something back home in Louisiana, something bad enough to make shutters close behind her eyes when the word ‘home’ was brought up. She never spoke of her family or her past and Chris felt a sting of hurt that she had never told him that she had a little sister, had never even alluded that there was another person with her blood walking around somewhere on this Earth and that she and Chris had one more thing in common. His eyes traveled over her face, her eyebrow lifted, her lips (oh God how he loved those lips) in that ‘I know something you don’t know’  way that could inspire insanity in a man, her arm snaking protectively over the nameless little sister’s shoulders, her hair the color of ink.

I don’t know who you are.

The words resonated so deeply in Chris’s head that he looked around in surprise, as if someone had whispered them into his ear. He cursed under his breath at his paranoia and snatched up his phone, shoving it into his jeans and grabbing his keys from the desk. His eyes locked once more onto the frozen likeness of Nyx, and Chris took a deep breath.

“I don’t know who you are, but I’m gonna find out.” He said aloud, leaning over and clicking the X button on the browser. Nyx’s face disappeared and Chris slowly straightened up, his mind elsewhere, his eyes still trained on the screen as if the picture remained.

Tonight, he was going to get some answers.

His phone rang.

 Two hours later, I emerged from the apartment building with my brain aching and my nose flaring with that familiar, wonderful, beautiful, painfully tempting smell. My hands were shaking; I felt weak. I sunk down on the same concrete planter I had used two hours ago.

Was I really going to do this? Could I do this? And besides that, was all this for real?

My brain told me no to all three questions, however, I knew that yes, I would do it, would probably have to try, at least, and for the most part, things seemed achingly real up in that apartment. It was either this or stripping, I thought, wincing at the mental image of myself wrapped around a pole in some greasy titty bar. Yeah, Chris and the paparazzi would LOVE that.

Chris. Shit.

I fumbled with the jumbled contents of my bag, finally locating my cell phone at the bottom. Missed Call still flashed on the screen, and I took a deep breath and pushed the END button, bringing up my missed calls list. A guy zoomed by on a skateboard, hardly sparing me a glance as I raised the phone up to my ear, Chris’s ringtone humming in my eardrums. A gracious wind blew, and I welcomed the softness of it on my hot face.

“Hello?” Chris’s voice crackled over the line, loud and real and achingly clear. My heart ballooned-it was a relief to hear him. Everything seemed to be in high definition, and it was freaking me out.

“Chris? You called?” I tried to keep my voice steady.

“Yeah, you finally checked your phone?” He teased, but I could hear a not so subtle hint of irritation in his voice, which wasn’t good. Chris didn’t get annoyed often.

“Yeah, I’m sorry, babe. I was in a-…job interview.” My throat burned at the lie. But isn’t it the truth?, I pleaded with my conscience. Not exactly.

His tone immediately changed. “Oh! Shit, I’m sorry, did I call in the middle of it? How did it go?”

I concentrated on the cracks in the concrete below my feet. “It went well, I guess. You called just as I was going in. Is there something wrong?”

Chris chuckled with relief. “No, nothing’s wrong. The guys just wrapped early today, and I wanted to see if you wanted to grab some food and maybe go out tonight.”

“Out to where?” A police cruiser idled slowly up the street, coming straight for me. My heart started thumping in my chest. Shit, what was I doing, loitering outside a goddamn drug dealer’s apartment?

“Haven’t figured that out yet. Was thinking about joining up with some people at-“

Chris’s voice became an echo in my ears as the police car rolled closer, idling. Other people live here, I told myself, not just drug dealers. Closer. Closer. Chris was saying something about a $2 beer night and some live band, but all I could feel was handcuffs around my wrist. The sound of the jail door clanking and thudding to a close with a bang. Didn’t want to go there. Never again.

“-so we can probably get up into VIP again…hey, babe, you there?”

A cop peered out of the window of his cruiser and sent me a small smile and a wave. I returned the weak gesture; but my knees were shaking. He drove past. My lungs seemed to unclench.

“Yeah, babe, I’m here.” I said, gulping, my throat dry. I needed a Coke. Dammit, who was I kidding? I needed a beer.

“You up for that?”

Was I up for that? No. I enjoyed going out from time to time and dancing, but my mind was too full of shit to put on a huge show. Was I going to go out? Absolutely. Chris deserved a night out-he had been locked up in the studio and the house for weeks with only me for company.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah, sounds great. What time are we leaving?”

“Probably not till nine or so. Grab some clothes and come over. I’m fucking starving.” I heard the faint ding ding ding of his car in the background, the roar of the ignition.

“Will be there in twenty minutes.” I said distantly.

“Okay babe. Hurry up.” Chris smacked a kiss loudly into the phone and I returned it, but I wasn’t my usual smartass self and Chris paused.

“Are you okay, Nyx?”

His voice was concerned, and I smiled a little, sadly.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry, I’m pretty hungry too, I guess. Brain’s all fuzzy.”

Lie lie lie lie lie!

“Well, get off the phone with me so I can feed you.” Chris teased, and I smirked.

“Feed me Seymour, feed me.”

“You are such a dork.” I could hear Chris rolling his eyes.

“And you are a filthy hypocrite.” I retorted, and he chuckled.

“And you, my little Nyx, are a dirty criminal.”

My heart stopped.

“What the hell did you just say?” I asked sharply, and I heard Chris pause.

“I said being this hungry must be criminal. Jesus, Nyx, what the hell is up with you?” He demanded, and I cursed myself.  Now I was hearing shit?

“Nothing. Sorry, babe. Like I said, I must be losing it.”

Chris sighed. “You are so weird.”

“Takes one to know one. I’ll see you in twenty minutes.” I needed to get off the phone. I had to get my shit together. More importantly, I needed to get the fuck out of here.

“Okay. Later, babe.” Chris sounded confused as all hell, but I didn’t have time to alleviate his worries.

“Later.” I hung up and shoved my phone into my pocket, hurrying over to my car and sliding inside.

My heart was beating.

Here I go, putting everything on the line.

 In your eyes, there lives, a green Egyptian noise.

“What?”

Alan snapped back to the present. Lance was looking at him from over his steak with a raised eyebrow, green eyes questioning.

Alan blushed; he had been staring. “Sorry. Did I say that out loud?”

Lance took a bite of his steak and chewed it thoughtfully, still gazing at Alan. “Yeah, as a matter of fact, you did.” Alan watched Lance’s mouth disappear behind a napkin, then reappear again. Dammit. Why couldn’t he stop staring?

“Was that a poem or something?” Lance wanted to know, wiping his hands.

Now he was REALLY red. Alan stuttered when he was put on the spot; this time was no exception. “It’s just a…um…a verse by…um…E.E. Cummings. I don’t…I don’t know why I said it.”

Lance took another bite of his steak, those pale green eyes surveying Alan coolly.

“You like that kind of stuff?”

Alan was now the color of a Coke can. He wanted to kick himself, but before he could answer or move his leg, he felt a foot slide up the side of his ankle. Across the table, Lance chewed, still looking at him politely. Alan’s throat caught. The foot moved higher.

“Yeah.” He could barely get the word out.

Lance nodded, looking down and scooping up some garlic mashed potatoes. He lifted the fork up to his mouth and slowly chewed, his expression bland, as if he was discussing the weather. Alan could have sworn he saw one of those green eyes drop quickly in a wink.

“I like it.”

The foot moved higher. Alan almost squeaked. Lance’s Adam’s Apple bobbed, and a small smile crackled its way across his face.

“I like it a lot.”

The foot moved higher.

“Never had a guy quote an author at me before.” Lance tipped his head to the side.

Higher. Alan’s chest was painfully tight. He felt as if a million eyes were on him; could see Lance’s foot moving closer and closer to his crotch, but a quick nervous glance showed him that everybody else in the dim restaurant were occupied with their food and company.

“It’s kind of a turn on.” Lance laid down his fork, clasping his hands in front of him. His hands. Oh God. Alan felt as if he was going to faint. He bit his tongue.

The foot was rubbing along his thigh. Oh, dear God.

“Rea-really?” Alan choked out, and Lance laughed. The sound nuzzled Alan’s eardrums and spiked his blood pressure. This was fucking torture.

“Really. Fans never even did that, though I doubt they were reading Cummings at twelve.” Lance took a slow sip of his iced tea. Oh God. Lance said cum. And he had said it so innocently too, but something about the way he said Cummings was enough to make Alan’s hands sweat. What am I, twelve? Boyband popstar says the word cum in front of me, not even cum like CUM CUM, and I’m losing my fucking shit?

Lance’s foot paused in its slow ascent.

“Did you mean to turn me on?” Lance wanted to know, a blonde eyebrow lifting, questioning, am I going too far?

Alan’s fingers twitched. “What do you think?” His throat was parched, and his Coke lay within reach of his hand, but he could not move.

Lance chuckled. “I think you did.”

Alan swallowed and stared Lance directly in the eye.

“Yeah, I did. What are you going to do about it?”

Lance’s smile grew wider, and his foot slid higher.

“What would you LIKE me to do about it?”

Alan gulped. Here’s your chance, Crane, don’t fuck it up. How will you know if you never try?

Hesitate.

This is not living, what you’re doing. This is lying.

Pale green met deep blue. Alan’s hand slipped off of the table and snaked underneath the tablecloth. The foot hit home. Lance’s eyes widened. Alan took a deep breath.

“Just don’t stop.”

“Where are they?!” Nyx yelled over the music, and Chris shook his head and bent closer to hear her.

“Where are they?” She screamed, and Chris shook his head. “I don’t know,” He hollered back. “let’s go check the bar!”

Nyx nodded and gave a thumb up to show that she understood, and Chris reached down and took her hand, and together they slowly snaked their way through the writhing, dancing people, Chris glancing back every few seconds to make sure that Nyx wasn’t getting swallowed up by the crowd.

It was hard rock night and evidently everyone had dressed the part, but out of all the leather clad, belt studded girls out of the club, only Nyx could hold his gaze.  She had dressed in a see through Sinful shirt with a white top underneath, and the black stones spelling out the name brand glittered in the frantic colored lights of the club. Chris couldn’t help smiling every time he looked back at her; and when they finally popped through a break in the crowd, he pulled her in front of him and gently kissed her forehead. Nyx’s eyes crinkled up at the corners and her lips formed words he could not hear.

“What?” Chris yelled, and Nyx stood on her tiptoes. Her breath passed over his ear and Chris shivered. “I said, what was that for?” Nyx called, and Chris shook his head.

“Just cause I wanted to!” He shouted, and Nyx grinned and kissed his cheek.

A couple at the bar moved away and Chris hurried to fill the vacant spot. “You want a drink?” He pointed at the bar, and Nyx shook her head, leaning once more towards him. “Not tonight, babe!”

Chris almost asked her why, but he remembered that she had work in the morning (when had that ever stopped her before, though?) and nodded.

He beckoned the bartender over and ordered a Heineken for himself and a Coke for Nyx, who accepted it gratefully and sucked half of it down in one gulp. Chris took a swig of his beer and looked around, trying to make out the faces of his friends through the hustling crowd. When he turned back to ask Nyx if she wanted to go up to VIP, he saw that her eyes were fixed on his beer, almost hungrily.

“You want a sip?” Chris hollered, and she blinked rapidly, as if he had jolted her.

“No, I’m good!” She shook her head, but her eyes flicked to his beer once again. Chris took a big swig and tipped his head towards the VIP staircase across the room.

“They might be up there!” He pointed, and Nyx bobbed her head in assent, finishing the rest of her Coke and putting it back on the bar.

“Let’s go!” She mouthed, and Chris swallowed the rest of his beer, slapped a nice tip on the wooden countertop, and followed Nyx back into the throes of twisting bodies, his hand at the small of her back. The smell of mint floated past his nostrils; Chris gripped her hand tighter and she responded in kind, finally reaching the VIP staircase. Chris knew the bouncer and he waved them on up.

The music faded to a dull thumping in the enclosed staircase and Chris knew he had to act fast before they emerged into the loud smokiness of the VIP lounge. Two girls in shimmering halter tops were coming down towards them, the smell of expensive perfume and the sound of clattering heels preceding their descent.  Chris pulled Nyx against the wall to make room for the two, and as they passed, they both shot Chris VERY inviting smiles.

He automatically smiled back-a reaction that was involuntary from all those years of being nice to fans (hey, they were the reason he was able to pay his bills) and Nyx bristled at his side.

After they had passed, she raised her eyebrow up at him and took a step up, but Chris grasped her hand and pulled her down to face him. Her eyes furrowed in confusion.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Chris asked slowly, his hand squeezing hers.

Nyx’s eyes widened in surprise, and she pulled her hand from his. “Where the hell did that come from, Chris?”

He shrugged. “I just wanted to know.”

Nyx edged towards him, and in her eyes there was this…hardness…Chris had never seen her look like that before. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

“How do you know about my sister?”Her gaze bored into him, and he took a deep breath.

“I found your Myspace.”

Nyx’s expression changed instantly. A small grin touched her lips and she cocked her head to the side. One delicate eyebrow lifted.

“Snooping?”

Chris shrugged once more. “Your profile’s not private.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. I suppose you saw Christobel, then.”

How strange it was to be talking about this in the VIP staircase of a club, the music rumbling dully behind the thick walls, the smell of cigarette smoke from upstairs and the cacophony of laughing voices rising and falling. Chris had the sensation of barely escaping a noose.

“Yeah, I did.” He admitted, and Nyx chuckled darkly. “Amazing what a government-paid gastric bypass can do, huh?”

“I wasn’t really concerned about her. I just want to know why you never told me you had a sister.” Chris said evenly, and Nyx sighed and leaned against the wall.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know you wanted to know all of that.”

Chris reached out and rubbed  a tiny smudge of mascara off of her cheek. “Nyx, I want to know everything. You know that.”

That side smile again. “Okay, then. I have a sister.”

“Does she have a name?”

Nyx paused for the tiniest second. “Autum. Her name is Autum.”

“She looks like you.” Chris said gently, and she sniggered. “You know how many times a year we both have to hear that?”

“Did she die?” Chris asked hesitantly, and Nyx started. “What? No, she’s not dead! Why would you think that?”

He raised his palms to the ceiling. “I don’t know. Why else would you never mention her?”

Nyx sighed in exasperation. “I don’t know, Chris. She’s my sister. She lives about six hundred miles from here. She’s not dead, that’s for sure.”

“I wish you would tell me things.” Chris said quietly, and Nyx sagged.

“I’m sorry. I am. It’s not like I was hiding her or something.”  Raised drunken voices echoed through the staircase from above, but they didn’t look up.

“Do you miss her?” Chris questioned, and Nyx looked down, biting her lip.

“Of course I miss her. She’s my sister.  Wouldn’t you miss yours?”

“Mine live here. I can see them whenever I want.” Chris pointed out, and Nyx heaved a sigh.

“What’s your point, Chris?”

 Chris took both of her hands in his. “My point is that you never tell me anything, not about your past or your family or even now. I want to know things about you, Nyx.  I mean,  you don’t have anybody here except Alan that you know to talk to. You can talk to me.”

Nyx stamped her foot in frustration. “You do know things about me! You’ve seen me naked, for Christ sakes. We sleep together!”

“Exactly! Which is why I should know you have a sister, or that you had a job interview today. I mean, c’mon Nyx, I’m not asking for much, here.” Chris snapped, and Nyx ‘s nostrils flared, but she did not retort. Instead, she leaned her head against the wall and banged it gently, her eyes closed. He sensed a weariness in her, which for Nyx, was alarming.  He instantly regretted losing his temper.  He opened his mouth to apologize, but-

Two guys banged through the door at the bottom of the stairs and started walking up to them, and Chris flattened himself against the wall opposite Nyx, who the guys eyed for a second before nodding at Chris and continued up the stairs. He waited until the door to the VIP room had shut before meeting Nyx’s eyes, which were surveying him in a wary sort of way, as if he was going to get angry with her again.

“I’m sorry.” Chris said quietly, and Nyx snorted softly, kicking at the stairs. “Nothing for you to be sorry for. You’re right.”

“I’m…wait, what?” Chris blinked at her.

She shrugged. “You’re right. I’ve been being silly. To be truthful, though, I didn’t go out of my way to purposely forget telling you had a sister, or a job interview. You’ve been so busy with Nigels…”

Chris interrupted.  “You are just as important to me as Nigels, Nyx. And I would have liked to wish you luck.”

Nyx smiled and nudged his shoe with her boot. “Then wish me good luck.”

Chris grinned and nudged her back. “It’s too late.”

“It’s never too late for luck.” Nyx said quietly.

“Well, good luck. What kind of job was it for?”

Nyx shrugged. “Distributing company. Sales floor. Better then waitressing, I guess.” Her eyes fell on her shoes, and Chris took a step towards her and tipped her face up.

“I was singing in a doo wop group at your age.” He said gently, and Nyx’s lips curved into a tiny smile.

“I’m getting off easy, is what you’re telling me.”

Chris snorted. “By far, sister.”

Nyx bit her lip. “I’m sorry.” She whispered, her eyes searching his, and he sighed.

“It’s okay. Just don’t be afraid to tell me things, sweetheart. I’m hardly in a position to judge.”

“Yes, you are. You just wouldn’t.” Nyx said flatly, and Chris sighed.

“Nyx, when I was twenty three, I was sleeping in my car. I don’t care how much money or fame I have, that shit never leaves you.”

She shook her head. “I know, I didn’t mean it like that. You deserve everything you have, which is more then I can say for most.”

“Even Alan?” Chris questioned, and Nyx sniffed.

“I love Alan, but he has the things he has because he rode in on Daddy’s coattails. You made a call and chose your own road. Not many people get what you have by honest means.”

Chris kissed her.

The raucous tones of Def Leppard thrummed all around them, but he didn’t hear it. His mouth was slowly and sloppily devouring hers, his hands pinning hers against the wall. Nyx hummed with pleasure against his lips, and they didn’t notice when a group of drunk girls, clad in bachelorette sashes and t-shirts, stumbled past them, giggling and tittering.

“God, get a room.” One of them muttered halfway down the steps.

Chris didn’t pull away from her until Def Leppard faded behind the swinging door. When he did, she blinked up at him, her lips wet, her eyes heavy lidded.

“Damn. I should commend you on your resilience more often.”

Chris snickered. “Yes, you should.”

“Thought you weren’t supposed to be caught in any compromising positions with a girl out in public.” Nyx teased, and he rolled his eyes. “I think I can make an exception. Nobody saw my face.”

“Pity,” Nyx sighed dramatically. “it’s such a nice face.”

Chris rolled his eyes and slipped his hand into hers. “C’mon, let’s go. I’m not in the mood to find the guys. Let’s get out of here.” He took a step down.

Nyx raised her eyebrows. “Chris Kirkpatrick, wanting to leave before the party even starts? Doth my ears fail on me?”

He shrugged. “You’ve domesticated me. Congratulations.  Besides, I’m getting sick and tired of the same old thing.”

Nyx’s eyes nearly bugged out of her head, but he just shook his head and led her down the steps, past the bouncer, back into the jungle of bodies.  Halfway through, Chris spotted one of the guys from the studio, and he pulled Nyx against him.

“I’ve gotta go talk to Mark over there about something real quick.” He shouted over the din, and Nyx nodded. “I’ll be at the bar!” She mouthed, and Chris kissed her forehead and bustled down to the far end of the counter.

Nyx sighed and pushed through a kissing couple, managing to grab an empty barstool just as its occupant left. The DJ had evidently tired of hard rock and threw on Lady Gaga, and the chorus of “Just Dance” reverberated through Nyx’s aching head in a tiring repetition. She signaled the bartender over, ordered a Coke (beer beer beer get a beer no no I can’t I can’t) and leaned against the bar, sipping it.

She didn’t want to be here. She was tired, had a lot of stuff on her mind…no, scratch that, she had more on her plate then one person could possibly handle. She needed to be somewhere quiet to sort through the massive piles of crappy decisions she was about to make, not sitting at some stupid club surrounded by drunk fools (oh but you want to be a drunk fool too, fucking hypocrite). But what Chris wanted, he got. It was the least she could do, especially now.

She glanced over at Chris, who was drinking a beer and laughing with a tall blonde haired guy. Nyx sighed. This was going to be a long night.

 I had been sitting there contemplating how nice it would be to throw a bomb in the middle of the dance floor for about fifteen minutes when my phone vibrated in my pocket.

I jumped as if someone had tasered my ass and fished quickly in my pocket for my phone. Once I finally wrestled it out, I checked the screen. Unfamiliar number. I frowned and put it to my ear, cupping my hand over the other so I could hear the music over the screechy tones of Shakira.

“Hello!?”

“Hola, chica.”

The pounding of my heart made “She Wolf” sound faint and tinny. I swallowed and looked over at Chris, who was engrossed in serious conversation with the same blonde guy, a fresh beer in his hand. I turned away from him. I felt beads of sweat pour down my face.

“Go somewhere private.”

I looked  around frantically for the exit, then tossed another nervous glance over my shoulder. Chris wasn’t even looking my way. I cursed silently to myself. I thought I had more time.

“Fine. Hang on.”

“Hurry.”

The word crackled ominously across the line.

I slid off of the barstool and was immediately absorbed by the crowd, but I was able to fight my way through with a few well-aimed elbow jabs. I desperately needed fresh air. I felt like my lungs were on fire.

I finally exploded out onto the sidewalk past the bouncer, who barely spared a look at me as his meaty fingers pummeled the tiny keys of his phone. I hurried down the steps, walking quickly away from the club.

“I’m alone.” I gasped.

“Well then, chica,” I heard a smile curling his words. “let’s talk.”

My phone vibrated. Once. Twice. Three times. Insisting.

It rattled impatiently in my hand and I looked at the display and groaned.

“Hello?”

“Nyx? Nyx? Where….”

I straightened up. “Chris? I’m outside.”

“I’m…Nyx…sorry…where…” I could hear the sound of skin sliding against phone and the scratchy rhythm of AC/DC in the background.

“I’m outside, Chris! You’re cutting out!” I yelled into the receiver, and I heard Chris holler my name once again, and then the call dropped. Shit. I kicked the brick wall. The pudgy bouncer looked over at me sharply, and I took a deep breath. Calm your nerves, Nyx. Breathe, goddammit. And after you get a hold of yourself, go back in there, find Chris, and get the fuck out of here. Somewhere where you can think. Go. Do it.

I’m so exhausted. I know I’m going to have to lie to Chris again and I don’t want to do it. Every molecule in my body is telling my legs to walk to the curb and hail a cab, not to go back in there, not to have to look at Chris while my excuses were so flimsy. My head rushed-my thoughts were like icy footholds; I could not hold on to one to save my life.

I pulled up Chris’s number again and started to rapidly text him, but before I could send off the message, I heard my name being called, and I looked up to see Chris hurrying out of the club.

“Hey, where’d you go?” He called as he approached.

I pasted a smile on my face and held up my phone. “Alan just called, that’s all. I couldn’t hear him and the bathroom was full.” The lie burned my tongue. I endured.

Chris looked relieved. “Oh, okay, I was worried. Listen, sorry Mark held me up-“

I held up my hand. “No big deal. I know you have to schmooze around here.” I winked at him to let him know I was kidding, and Chris smiled and took my hand.

“Ready to get out of here? It’s too fucking hot in there to think straight. Bad idea on my part.”

“Please.” I said gratefully, anxious to find a bed, any bed, and pass the fuck out in it.

As we headed off towards the car, Chris looked over at me.

“Are you okay?”

I sighed. “Yep, why?”

“You look all…” He stopped and cocked his head to the side. “funny.”

I snorted. “You look funny too, elf.”

Chris did an impressive double eyeroll combo, but he resumed walking. “Seriously, Nyx, you look like you’re going to puke.”

I shrugged. “Probably just the smell of cigarette smoke.”

“Do you want to stop and get some medicine?” Chris questioned worriedly as we turned the corner, and I shook my head.

“Lord, Chris, I don’t have swine flu!”

Chris stopped in his tracks and glared at me.

“Look, Nyx, I don’t know what the hell your problem is, but maybe you should go and stay at Alan’s if you’re in this bad of a mood. I’m just trying to ask you a simple question and you’re biting my head off.”

I blinked, too stunned for an angry retort. He didn’t wait for one, though.

“I mean, you’ve been bitchy all day, in fact, more bitchy then usual. If you’re not going to tell me what the hell is wrong, do me a favor and cut the attitude!” Chris snapped, and I took a step back, hurt.

Isn’t that with the truth does?

“I’m…I’m sorry.” I whispered, actually cowed by him.

He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and took a deep breath.

“Nyx, I don’t know how much more of this shit I can take.”

My heart. My heart. My heart.

I swallowed thickly. “I don’t mean to take out my frustrations on you.”

“You say that, and then you do.” Chris sighed and fished his key out of his pocket. “C’mon, I’ll drop you off at Alan’s.”

A rope seemed to lasso around my lungs and yank tight, but I clamped my mouth shut and quietly folded myself into his car.

We didn’t say a word as Chris started the engine and backed out of the parking space, his hand on the back of my seat, but not touching me. I did not look at him. If I did, I’d burst into tears. And that would never do. Looking back, I should have. I should have shown Chris I had more emotions then he gave me credit for. But could I blame him?

The tension between us seemed to sit on the console between us, gleefully building and building. I focused on anything I could to keep from thinking about drinking or cocaine or the fact that I may have blown it tonight. License plates, dog crap on the sidewalk, the neon signs of bars and clubs blinking lonely in the night. Chris shifted uncomfortably across from me, but I didn’t give any sign that I heard him. I am fine with the silent treatment, prefer it, even. He can’t stand it, and I know it, but I apologized. What more does he want?

Nothing was said as he pulled into Alan’s driveway. The Prowler was gone, and so was Christobel’s BMW. The lights cut harshly across the bland garage door, the back of my car. I looked at the red script spelling out LOUISIANA on my license plate. I should have stayed there.

Chris killed the lights and the engine and we sat there, silent, both of us wanting to say it, but neither of us   wanting to take the leap. I felt Chris’s eyes turn on me, and my spine quivered. I always felt his gazes like a touch. It was disconcerting as fucking hell.

I turned my head towards him, but I did not meet his eyes. I stared at the black console, instead.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what else you want me to say.” I muttered, my hand already gripping the door handle.  Get it over with if you have to, I thought, and just let me get out of here.

Chris looked down at his lap. “I just want you realize I’m not the enemy, Nyx.”

I tipped my head back, my eyes closed. “I know you’re not.”

“Then why do you get so pissed when I’m just trying to help?” Chris turned his body towards me, one dark eyebrow lifted.

I shrugged. “I’m not used to...people asking me that.”

He snorted. “That’s all I seem to do, Nyx, is ask you what’s wrong. And I either get an eye roll or attitude from you.”

“Then why don’t you just leave?” I whispered, my eyes focused on the dark green hedge separating Alan’s property from the IPO millionaire’s house next door. Christobel liked to spy on him; he got drunk and did naughty things with vegetables.

I couldn’t see him, but I heard Chris bristle. Don’t do this don’t do this don’t do this, Nyx, he’s good for you.

Yeah, too good. Shut up, conscience, and let me do my shit.

“Do you want me to leave?” His voice was so quiet that I had to strain to hear it.

I shrugged nonchalantly. “If it will make your life easier, yes.”

No. No. Don’t leave. Don’t go. The cicadas will come back.

I felt the intensity of his eyes leave me and Chris shifted in his seat to face the house. He stared straight ahead and did not look at me.

“Just say good night, Nyx.” He muttered.

I felt the lump in my throat leap, but I tried to smile. “Good night, Nyx.”

Chris didn’t laugh. My smile faltered. Not good. I slowly pulled the door handle and slid out of the AC blasted car into the blanket of humidity.

As I walked up to the door, I felt Chris’s eyes on me again.

I didn’t look back.

“I want you, I want you so bad…”

“Nyx, come here.”

I crossed the dark room and got to my knees, my head bowing automatically.

A light hand ran through my hair.

“You’re growing up so fast.”

I smiled, though she couldn’t see me. “I’ll never be too old for this.”

“Which is why I know I can depend on you.”

The word ‘you’ was stressed ever so slightly, but I caught it and I shifted uncomfortably. “You can depend on Scotty and Autum and Christobel, too.”

“True, though it’s not the same. But Nyx, why did you do it?”

I froze underneath the hand that was still stroking my hair, softly. I smelled something like sweet, rotten apples.

“Do…do what?”

But by the time the dirty, bloody hand had wrapped around my chin, horrifyingly familiar, and tipped my face to the ceiling, I already knew.

I reeled backward so fast that I fell over onto the carpet, gasping in terror as a bloated face, one I knew too well, leered at me, eyes milk white in their sockets. Gas had swollen the body to twice its usual size, and I felt vomit bubble my stomach. Guilt, thick and painful, coated my heart.

“Why, Nyx? Why?” The cadaver moaned, and I scrambled backwards, my legs refusing to put forth the strength to rise and run.

The door banged open behind me and my body collided into a pair of legs.

I looked up.

Chris glared down at me, his dark muddy eyes terrible and unfamiliar, his hands (on my throat, in my hair, on my legs)curled into fists at his sides. No concern or love or laughter lived in this Chris.

“You left her!” He growled down at me. One hand unclenched and swung-

I screamed.

“It’s driving me mad, it’s driving me mad…”

I was still screaming when I opened my eyes.

My entire body was drenched, coated, saturated with sweat. And…blood?

I looked down at my heaving chest to discover that the front of my LSU nightshirt was covered in sticky red.  Great. Perfect.

I tried to take several deep breaths, but it wasn’t working. The thought of that hand touching me, that THING talking to me…my fingers scratched moon shaped indentions in my hands as I fought off a full blown panic attack. Beside me, my phone warbled innocently. Nobody came running. I was used to that by now.

I looked down and saw that not only was it 3:30 in the morning, Chris was calling. Now?

The image of his pinched, murderous gaze flashed through my brain before I scooped it up and held it to my ear, fumbling to catch it before it went to voicemail.

“Chris, hello?”

“Babe?” Chris’s voice was rough and unsteady, as if he had either just woken up or been up all night, gargling rocks.

“What’s the matter?” I demanded, my voice cracking in worry.

“Are you okay? You sound terrified. What’s the matter?” Chris asked anxiously, and this time I didn’t dare snap at him.

“What’s the matter with YOU? It’s 3:30 in the morning. You sound weird.” My heart was still pounding like a goddamn gong. I pressed my hand to my chest, as if that would stop it from jumping out.

Chris sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about earlier, in the car.”

Christ.

“What about it?” I asked slowly, moving to sit on the side of my bed.

“I’m not going to play this game with you, Nyx. You want to have secrets, fine, have secrets. Let’s just forget we lost our tempers, alright? Can you get your ass over here, please?” Chris sighed; he sounded exhausted.

The pain and terror of the dream faded momentarily in the background as I softened at his words.

“You’re saying you’re letting this go?” I asked, hardly daring to believe it.

“For now.” He warned, and I heaved a sigh. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

“The but comes in the morning. Will you please just stop being SUCH a pain in the ass and come over? I’d like to get a little sleep before dawn.” Chris yawned, and I looked down at my blood drenched PJs.

“Can you give me ten minutes?”

“Yeah. And Nyx?”

I turned the Amitripolyne bottle over in my fingers. “Yes?” I murmured.

“Were you really going to just break up with me for my own good?” Chris asked hesitantly, and I exhaled loudly.

“If you were to be better off without me, I would have. I’m a lot to deal with, Chris.” I admitted, silently thinking that ‘a lot’ was a severe understatement.

I heard a squeak on the other end of the line-Chris leaning slowly back in his office chair.

“Oh.”

The line crackled with an uncomfortable silence for about thirty seconds. And then-

“I’ll see you in ten minutes.” He said, his tone flat. I straightened up.

“Okay.” I whispered.

The line went dead.

I pulled the phone away and looked at it blankly, as if I expected it to talk back to me. Deep in my heart I knew that my answer seemed logical to myself, but to Chris, who was more sensitive then he’d ever admit, it was as if I was fine with giving him up.

I know I sound like a broken record, reader, but I should have.

I really should have.

Hello, I'm your martyr, will you be my gangster 
can you feel my trigger hand, moving further down your back 
when you hide, hide inside that body 
but just remember that when I touch you 
the more you shake, the more you give away 

cold, but I'm still here, blind, ‘cause I'm so blind, say never 
we're far from comfortable this time 
cold, now we're so cold, mine, and you're not mine, say never 
we’re far from obvious this time 

wait, another minute here, time will kill us after all 
now can you feel its second hand wrapped around your neck 
so fall into my eyes and fall into my lies 
but don’t you forget 
the more you turn away, the more I want you to stay 

cold, but I'm still here, blind, ‘cause I'm so blind, say never 
we're far from comfortable this time 
cold, now we're so cold, mine, and you're not mine, say never 
we’re far from obvious this time 

you’re so endearing, you’re so beautiful, 
well I don’t look like they do, and I don’t love like they do 
but I don’t hate like they do 
am I ever on your mind?