Blue sacrifice blue davi.., p.2
Blue Sacrifice (Blue Davison), page 2
After school, Lacey drove me home in her power blue VW Bug. Listening to the radio, she clicked her power blue nails against her power blue leather steering wheel. Adjusting her power blue sweater under her power blue jacket, she smiled at me. Oh yeah, Lacey was a big fan of power blue.
It was my fault or really my mom’s. When I was seven, I was invited to one of the many parties the Zandis threw on a very regular basis. The family celebrated everything. Half birthdays, anniversaries of overseas vacations, and every milestone they could think of. I couldn’t remember what that particular party was for, but I was invited because I was officially Lacey’s best friend by then.
My mom made a decent living as a legal assistant, but we couldn’t afford super fancy outfits for every occasion. I had one nice dress and it was blue. My mom always told me she picked the dress because of my eyes, not my name, but people didn’t care. As Blue, I was expected to wear blue and I fought the expectation. Though truth be told, I have always looked pretty amazing in blue.
Lacey’s mom Amira decided since we were best friends, her daughter should theme her dress to mine. This was what people did when they had so much money and time on their hands. They themed everything. While my mom made fun of the Zandis, she always said she would theme everything too if we were rich.
So Amira bought her daughter a power blue dress to go with mine and Lacey was livid. She wanted pink. Her older sister Alyssa wore pink. Pink was girly, but blue was for boys. Oh, the humanity when Lacey first saw the blue dress. How would she ever stand out next to her prettier older sister when she was wearing blue?
At the party, every guest fawned over Lacey’s power blue ballerina-style dress. They told her again and again how lovely she looked. It was one of the few occasions when Lacey received more compliments than Alyssa and power blue was the reason.
Flash forward nine years and Lacey was a power blue addict. Everything had to be that color if she was to shine. The weirdest part wasn’t her color obsession, but Lacey’s assertion that she was a tomboy because she wore blue. Compared to me and my jeans and tees, Lacey dressed like the frigging Queen of England. Yet compared to her princess sister, she did seem a bit boyish.
“Will I see you tomorrow?” Lacey asked, her dark eyes worried. “If you’re going to leave, I need to prepare.”
“I’m not sure.”
“Call me tonight and let me know. If you don’t jump and I spend the morning thinking you have, you’ll ruin another day for me.”
“Sorry,” I muttered.
“Don’t be like that. You know what I mean. Feelings aren’t my thing.”
Smiling, I tugged at her thick black hair. “You’re just too much of a tomboy for that.”
Lacey shared my grin. “It’s true I’ve never been very feminine.”
We laughed, though I wasn’t sure we were laughing at the same thing. Either way, I said goodbye then headed into the yellow bungalow I called home.
After my mom sacrificed herself, I needed a place to live and Aunt Penny was in a mental institution by then. While Aunt Aurora wanted to take me in, she refused to return to Lily Falls to pick me up which pissed off the Social Services lady. I ended up in foster care with a woman named Gretchen Poirier. Six months later, I was adopted by Gretchen, but she had never even tried to be my mom.
Gretchen was my friend. I didn’t even have to call her mom. She wanted a kid and ended up with me, but I don’t think she really enjoyed being a parent. She didn’t help me with my homework. She didn’t remember my birthday. She didn’t know where I was at any moment of the day, unless I was standing right next to her.
Yet Gretchen wasn’t a bad person, just an uninspired parent. I was a phase she went through and she went through many of them. She was into men at one point. Then she was a lesbian. Now she was bisexual, but didn’t date. She used to paint. Then she wrote poetry. Then novels. Then she turned to music. Finally she started collecting things. Angel figurines, thimbles, shot glasses, and cats. I wasn’t sure Gretchen would have been allowed to adopt me if she tried today. Our house had a hoarder vibe to it with a dozen indoor cats and a dozen outdoor cats. She also had a dog I hadn’t seen in months, but Gretchen assured me was still alive.
Gretchen’s latest phase was business owner. Ever since she was a teenager, she helped her rich aunt with errands. When her aunt died, Gretchen received sums of money at various intervals. I was never clear how it worked, though I suspected the inheritance was in the hands of a trust which doled out money only if Gretchen used it properly. This money was how Gretchen bought the pretty three bedroom bungalow. It was also how she bought her food truck.
Gretchen’s old boyfriend Hans helped her design the menu of the food truck and he handled the money part of the operation. Gretchen basically just cooked. She was a pretty good cook too. While she rarely cooked at home, I usually ate dinners off of the food truck and they were always tasty sandwiches or tacos. Gretchen changed the menu a lot depending on her current phase. Her changes were mainly related to what she saw on the Travel or Cooking Channels. If Anthony Bourdain liked something, Gretchen wanted it on her menu.
Entering the house, I received no love from the cats. They weren’t mine. They were more like a family with human caretakers. If their bowls were empty, they would have shown interest. With their tummies full, I was just the annoying person who woke them from their naps.
Three years earlier, Gretchen had the bungalow remodeled so she could move her private quarters upstairs. I suspected she was concerned I was using her toothbrush when she wasn’t around. While I couldn’t explain this particular fear, Gretchen tended to be worried about the little things. A tornado heading for our street was a minor nuisance, yet the daily paper landing in our lawn instead of the walkway was enough to send her into an emotional tailspin.
Fortunately Hans was great at handling Gretchen. He loved her so much he just accepted how she would never love him back. I always felt bad for him to live a life so unfulfilled, but I was planning to die before I got to do anything cool. Hans at least had a choice and he’d made it.
After a shower, I worked my way through my closet to find something suitable for a hookup with a guy of Flynn’s beauty. Most of my clothes were earth tones and designed by Gretchen’s last girlfriend, Toni. Even after Toni left Lily Falls, she sent me clothes because she knew I didn’t wear black (anything even resembling Goth was not a look a Davison should embrace), red (blood didn’t inspire happy memories for me), or blue. I also didn’t wear white because I tended to be messy and we had a crapload of cats. Toni designed me pretty clothes in oranges, beiges, greens, and dark yellows. I was forever dressed for autumn even at Easter festivities.
I chose a dark brown skirt, a dark green sweater, and black boots for my meeting with Flynn. While it was really too cold for a skirt, I was thinking easy access. Then I made quick work of my homework, even though I wasn’t sure if I would be alive to hand it in the next day. Restless, I locked up the house and walked towards Harper Avenue where Gretchen’s food truck was parked.
As I approached, Hans spotted me and shook his head. Apparently Gretchen was having a bad day and I was to be protected from it. Yet I was hungry and food from the truck was free. Even though Gretchen gave me a weekly allowance, I’d blown my money on a feast for dinner the night before, thinking I was eating my last meal.
Turning right, I headed to the corner where I said I would meet Flynn. Twenty minutes early and standing next to a donut store, I rifled through my pockets looking for money. I found three dollars in my jacket pocket and ordered a little bag of donut holes and a small coffee. Not two bites in, I looked up to find Flynn.
“You’re going to spoil your dinner,” he said in that happy accented voice of his.
“Where are you from?” I asked, biting into another donut hole. “No offense, but you sound like a leprechaun.”
A grinning Flynn sat across from me. “Ireland, but I haven’t lived there in a long while. Can’t seem to shake the accent though. Have you always lived here?”
“Yes. Do you want a donut hole?”
Shrugging, Flynn took one and popped it into his mouth. I handed him a second one then finished the bag. Soon my coffee was gone too.
“I wasn’t kidding about the spot between the dumpsters,” I said, wiping the stickiness from my fingers. “It’s impossible to see from the street.”
Flynn glanced at the street as if considering my offer then smiled. “Where’s a good place for dinner?”
“I’m not hungry.”
Flynn’s smile faded. “I’m not taking you into an alley.”
“Do you have a car?” I offered, thinking of how soft his hair looked. “I can’t take you to my house. My cats are feminazis and attack men.”
Flynn smiled for a moment then nodded. “I want to have dinner.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m hungry and it’s dinner time.”
Sighing, I leaned back into the chair and considered my options. A free meal was always a good thing. Rubbing against Flynn after dinner sure sounded like a pleasant way to end the day too. Yet I got the impression he was messing with me and if I said yes, he would embarrass me. I wasn’t sure why I distrusted him except that he clearly wanted sex and I was offering and he said no. What was the con?
“I’m not going to kill myself,” I said, cleaning up my mess at the table. “I don’t need a white knight to save me.”
“Then why were you on the bridge today?”
“I was goofing around. My friend dared me to do it and I wanted to mess with her. I wouldn’t have jumped. Even if I did, I would have freaked out once I hit the cold water.”
“Your friend?” Flynn said in a softer voice. “The beautiful dark haired girl you were with at lunch.”
Just like that, Flynn sucked all of the confidence out of me. Despite my protests, I wanted to think he really was special and he really did like me for more than sex or to save me. Yet he was just a guy.
“Her name is Lacey and she’s not dating anyone. I could introduce you two tomorrow if you want?”
Flynn tapped his long fingers on the table then glanced out of the window again.
“I saw a steakhouse up the street. Do you eat meat?”
Studying Flynn, I felt depressed. Tomorrow I would be dead and Lacey would be dating Flynn. Their relationship wouldn’t last since neither one was looking for a commitment, but at least Lacey would have something to take her mind off finding a new friend.
The reality of my death suddenly hit me in a way I hadn’t let it the last week. I’d kept the finality of it at bay, but soon I would be dead and no one would really care. The town would have its sacrifice and people would shake their heads at another suicidal Davison woman. Then they would just move on with their lives like I never existed.
“Are you crying about the murdered cows?” Flynn asked, reaching out to touch my wet cheek. “Or about your terminal tumor?”
“I want to go to the alley with you,” I whispered, needing to feel close to someone.
Flynn sat back and shook his head. “I’m not doing that. It’s cold out.”
“Then your car.”
“Too uncomfortable.”
“Then my house. A hotel. I don’t care.”
Flynn leaned forward and sighed. “I want dinner first. A growing girl like you needs more than a few donut holes for dinner. Come with me then we’ll find a place.”
When he stood up and held out a hand, I thought to blow him off. Did I really want to spend the evening thinking about what I couldn’t have? Or pretending like I wasn’t going to kill myself the next day? Or have a stranger tell me life was worth living even though I knew that more than anyone? I just wanted to feel his hands on me and let his kisses distract from what I had to do the next day.
Instead of doing what would be easier, I took his hand and let him pull me up. Flynn gave me a warm smile like the kind he would smile for Lacey after I was dead. The reality of life was that no one truly mattered in the long run, but I mattered less than most.
Flynn said nothing as we walked down the street to the steakhouse. He held my hand and I let him, even though I wished we could have just gone somewhere for a meaningless, yet happy romp. Now I would have to listen to him be nice and know it didn’t mean anything.
Waiting to be seated, Flynn leaned down and pressed his lips softly against my cheek. Unable to stop myself, I shuddered from the feel of him. His kiss wasn’t passionate, yet it was no peck on the cheek either. The kiss held warmth and the promise of what would come later. I glanced at him and forced a smile. His hypnotic eyes studied me and a smile slowly spread.
“You look lovely, Blue,” he said in a rich rolling voice, making me shudder again.
“Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” he asked innocently, but his grin wasn’t fooling anyone.
“I don’t have money for dinner. I’ll need to pay you back tomorrow.”
Flynn laughed as the waitress showed us to a table. “It’s a date.”
“Not really. Besides I’m a liberated woman who pays for her meals.”
Flynn looked at me like I was full of shit and he was right. I once went on a date with Lacey’s older brother Tyson and we shared a luxurious dinner. Not only did I not pay, I didn’t even put out. Of course I would have, but Tyson wouldn’t even admit it was a date. We were just going out as friends for my birthday. Then he gave me an amazing goodnight kiss which left me reeling.
“I’ll pay you back tomorrow,” I told Flynn when he just smiled and looked over the menu.
“Whatever you wish, but this is a date.”
Studying the menu, I wasn’t sure how I would pay him back when I didn’t get my allowance until Monday. I might be able to find cash in my drawers and leave an envelope for him. So focused on how to repay a meal I hadn’t eaten, I didn’t notice the waitress appear or Flynn smiling at me.
“She’ll need more time,” Flynn told the waitress.
“I’m sorry. I’m not really hungry.”
“Please don’t order a salad,” Flynn said, looking at the menu again. “I know there are girls who really love salads, but most don’t and just pretend so they can look good for their dates. I’m not sure how eating like a rabbit makes a girl sexier, but it’s the common practice on most first dates.”
“But this isn’t a date.”
Flynn gave me an odd look then set aside his menu. “I’m ready to order. Did you find a salad which tickles your fancy?”
“I’ll have steak actually,” I said, challenging his little male attitude. “Lobster too.”
Grinning, Flynn waved over the waitress. While I did order a steak, I skipped the lobster. I had pigged out the night before and there was no way I’d find enough money in my sock drawer to repay Flynn for lobster.
“Where did you live before Lily Falls?” I asked, planning to keep the conversation off of me.
“Jacksonville. Before that, we lived in Seattle. Portland was before that. Spent a year in Malibu. My father is an architect and is always chasing his next project.”
“Do you like moving around?”
“It has its perks. Have you traveled much?”
“No.”
“Would you like to?”
“Sure. So if you live with your dad, what about your mom?”
“She’s in India, running a call center. Haven’t seen her in person for a few years, but we use Skype.”
Flynn didn’t seem upset about his mother so I moved on. “How long do you think you’ll be in Lily Falls?”
“Could be just until the summer, maybe much longer. My father is working on something with the Afflecks.”
The other wealthy family in Lily Falls, the Afflecks consisted of three redheaded sisters who lived in a giant Victorian mansion in the woods. I had only seen one sister before, but I heard they were very rich and didn’t like the locals.
“Tell me about your family, Blue.”
“My mother died years ago. I live with a woman named Gretchen who adopted me. I don’t know who my father is and I have no siblings. That’s my family in a nutshell.”
“Does your terminal tumor have anything to do with your mother’s passing?”
“No and I don’t want to talk about either of those things.”
Flynn nodded, his fingers tapping on the table again. “What’s your favorite thing in the world?”
Shrugging, I didn’t intend to share this information with him. I suspected the correct answer should be something my mother left me. Instead it was something that was none of his business and he wouldn’t understand anyway.
“What’s yours?” I asked.
“This ring,” he said, pulling it off his middle finger. “Reminds me of when I was a boy.”
When he handed me the ring, I held it in my palm. Tracing the emerald centerpiece, I realized the ring wasn’t only heavy, but expensive.
“It’s beautiful,” I said, returning it to him.
“Given to me at my birth, it was a sign of great things ahead for me.”
I shared Flynn’s smile, but talking quietly like this unsettled me. Tomorrow I would dive into the cold water and let myself go under. My body would be found by a disinterested local. My death would be a one day story. I’d be cremated and my ashes spread in the same river where I died. Then it’d be like I never existed. Just like when my mother died.
With Flynn though, I felt warm and safe. Like tomorrow was just another day and he might ask me out for Friday night. I would keep living like I wasn’t a Davison who had to die so the town could live.
“When I was boy,” Flynn said quietly, “I thought it was my job to make my parents stay together. I was sure when I got in trouble that my parents fought more so I was very careful to behave. It was so much work to worry over everything I said and did. Every night, I would lay in bed going over everything to make sure I hadn’t caused my parents to be unhappy. I felt this heavy burden to keep them together, but they divorced anyway.”
