Writings on the wall, p.3
Writings on the Wall, page 3
part #1 of Writings on the Wall Series
“Thank you. I think I needed to hear that, and I promise you she’s so grateful. I’m—grateful.”
“You’re special, Arlissa. Don’t ignore that.”
My soft lips curve into an even wider smile. “Um, I do need to ask you something, though.”
“Shoot, sunshine, I’ve got all day.”
“I need a job, like, badly. I know Aly has her music thing so I just—”
“I have the perfect thing for you, buttercup!”
“Oh?”
“My son.”
“Oh.”
“Oh?”
“No! He’s great—well, cool. I don’t know, I don’t really know him.”
“Mm-hmm, well, he’s a—very kind boy. He just expressed to me this morning that he had some problems with his previous assistant. Something about leaking information? I don’t know, we didn’t get to talk long.” She holds back, messing with her ring once again. “Never mind the details from me, I’m sure you can ask him. He’s having a gathering tonight with a few friends to celebrate—whatever he’s celebrating now. Very quaint, nothing too much, I’m sure. He trains like a dog, so he can’t afford to party much. But he is in need of an assistant, and if you want I can give him a call, and you guys can talk about it tonight. But please go. It’ll do both you girls some good.” She ends her sentence with a smile, one of those smiles that makes you want to immediately say yes.
Live a little, right? This better be worth it. “Thank you so much. That would be awesome. I’ll let Aly know.”
“Of course, I’ll let him know you’re interested and send the address to Alejandra.”
Fabulous.
Four
ALEJANDRA FORCES ME to straighten my long brown hair instead of running it under a faucet and letting my curls do their own thing. Honestly, for something that’s supposed to be casual, I don’t understand the need for me to squeeze into my favorite shorts because they cup my butt in a flattering way. Or even the burgundy crop top Alejandra insisted I wear because you never believe when someone over thirty calls a party a “quiet get-together.” Part of me knows she’s right, yet a dominating part of me can’t believe Xavier would be okay with me going to something that was more than just a job offer.
I’m nobody. And if what Alejandra says is true, he’s a big fucking deal.
The whole process of getting there, the elevator ride up to the condo, was the longest period of time Aly had gone without complaining about my lack of enthusiasm. Her usual rambling about how well I would do in LA was now replaced with her excitement for being invited to what she described as a “premature industry party.”
Text me when you get home safe. I’ll be up.
Kk.
“Are you gonna knock?” Her tone takes me out of whatever trance I was in, and for once I don’t even comment back. I just knock. The muffled music makes its presence known through the walls, causing my stomach to repeatedly cartwheel. Seconds turn into eternities before we’re rescued by a cast of light coming from the door.
“Well, well, well. I made a bet with a friend saying you guys wouldn’t show. Fuck, I guess I owe someone twenty bucks.” Xavier’s words spew out a mile a minute like he’s ready to run a marathon. And am I crazy, or are his pupils dilated like a puppy thats eye-fucking a bone?
His tall frame stands there in the doorway, a short-sleeved shirt showcasing enormous biceps; accompanied by another tattoo. Yet, unlike the first one I noticed, I can’t identify this one. He towers over me with a Solo cup in his hand, yet my eyes are attracted to what’s behind him.
People stand on couches, share drinks, and one girl even rips her top off in real-time. The last party I went to had streamers, cake, six-year-olds, and Paw Patrol balloons. This time, there are sweaty bodies humping on top of each other and alcohol being sprayed around the room like it’s rain. The floor is soaked in it, and I’m almost positive he’s going to have to get his tiles redone after this.
But to bring it all together, the immense speakers resting on each side of the milky white home bar blare the current Hot 100.
“Some small get-together . . . ”
“Told ya so!” Alejandra sings before snatching Xavier’s drink and pushing past him.
I follow her footsteps, the smell of his cologne completely overtaking my senses for a moment. My eyes continue to take in the living room and bar area that we walked into. It’s barely midnight, and the place is already trashed. Empty bottles and shoes are scattered all over the floor, just waiting for someone to fall face-first onto a heel.
“My parents would shut this shit down if I told them otherwise.” His voice is directly above me, his breath sending a shiver down my spine as he ends his sentence. I’m so focused on what’s going on around me and who’s hovering over me—that I forget to keep following Alejandra.
“Lying to your mother? To think she thinks you’re the sweetest boy ever.”
He smirks before stepping in front of me. “You’ve never lied to your parents?”
Once. “Nope. I tend not to be a shitty person.”
“Ouch.” He lets out a chuckle, his pearly white teeth practically blinding me. “How about you have a drink? You look like you need one more than I do right now.”
“Is that how you get the girls?”
“When you’re Xavier Amari, you don’t need to get anyone drunk. Come on, is that attitude your only personality trait?”
“Is it yours?”
“You are failing this job interview.”
I smirk. “You haven’t even asked me about my availability yet.”
“Have a drink. I’m high as shit and drunk so this isn’t fair.”
“You smoke?”
“You don’t?”
I’ve never seen brown eyes twinkle like this before. “I’ll take that drink.”
“Well, all right! Finally, she decides to act like she’s at a party.” He makes strong strides through the crowd, everyone parting for him. He doesn’t even have to say “excuse me” or adjust his body awkwardly to the side as most people do. They just know he needs his space, so they move out of the way for their king. Xavier reaches over the bar and grabs a bottle of something I don’t recognize and pours it into a cup.
“We don’t do chasers here, so you better chug until there’s nothing left, shorty.”
I grab the cup; my hesitation to chug it is very much present, but I can’t back out while he’s staring at me. Something about him challenges me, makes me want to do what he says.
Come on, live a little.
As I chug, my eyes focus on the stubble that’s wrapped around his chiseled jaw to make it easier to ignore the burning sensation traveling through my petite body. There’s a sense of security in his eyes as our gazes meet, but also something there that scares me. Is he scared of me too? Does he feel it? There’s a tiny string pulling us together, but if I touch it my entire body will electrify. This isn’t the kind of electricity that I can look past, no. It’s the kind that turns every cell in my body into blazing pieces of amber. It seems like the longer I analyze the more complex my assumptions of him become.
The cup is empty. I wipe any spilled contents off of my chin and slam it on the bar. “I have a feeling you assumed I would back out.”
Xavier clears his throat with a flustered look on his face. “You’re a trooper . . . Arlissa, right?”
Forgetting your name already? Nice. “Right.”
“Stick around, meet some people. I gotta go, uh, host this party, but I’ll catch up with you later.” He goes off into the crowd, and suddenly I remember where I am.
I had completely tuned out the music while in his presence, but now it’s almost unbearable. He left me unattended, and Alejandra is somewhere with someone, anyone. That’s just what she does being the social butterfly she is. Except, most times I’m right behind her. There’s an overwhelming feeling of disappointment over me. I want more. But more of what?
With an eye roll, I pick up the same bottle he used and pour another cup. My stare goes blank while I watch the clear liquid flow like a rapid waterfall, droplets jumping onto the floor. Leaning against the bar for a moment, I scan the room. No one seems inviting. No one seems like they want to do more than touch my hair or spill their drink on me. I release a pitiful sigh before deciding to head down the hall. Maybe if I find the bathroom I can not only find some peace but also shamelessly take these agonizing heels off for a moment or two.
Maybe I should text— no. I already talk to him more than I should.
“Excuse me. Excuse me. Excuse me.” I shuffle through the drunk girls and even drunker guys, sounding like a broken record as I go. God, I need to get out of here. No, no you don’t. I let Xavier distract me and make me think that maybe this environment is a decent place, but spoiled rich kids walking around this drunk? That can’t be a good idea. I anxiously push open the first door I see, my eyes catching the whiff of the scene before the rest of my body.
Oohs and ahhs fill my ears as I stand frozen in place. The worst part though is that they didn’t even stop. A huge bare ass moons me, front and center, just all out there. And to add to the trauma, some chiseled dude is snorting something powdered off of her lower back.
It takes a few moments, but they finally realize I’m standing there. The girl first, shrieking as if she isn’t in her birthday suit getting drugs snorted off her body at a party that has a population of at least one hundred. The guy didn’t even get a chance to tell me to get the fuck out because an alarming scream alerted all three of us.
The blood-curdling sound sends shivers down my spine, but the intensity of it all still leaves me stuck like a statue. The girl is struggling to get her clothes off the ground, probably wondering why I haven’t moved yet. But that’s when it hits me. That scream was familiar—it’s Alejandra.
“Get help! What the fuck, man!”
The sounds grow intensely as I finally gather the strength to move my legs and get that disturbing image out of my head. With each step, I can hear every sentence with more clarity.
“Can someone get some help?”
“Move!”
“Okay, party over, guys. Get your shit and get out.”
“Call 911!”
But what’s laid out on that living room floor is even worse. No, not again.
The crowd of people disperse (only after getting a glimpse of what’s going on), making it possible for me to see what’s going on myself. Xavier is nowhere to be found, but I’d recognize those raven tresses anywhere. Alejandra, like the superhero she is, is bent over another curly-haired woman whose body vibrates on the floor.
“Come on! Everyone, move out! You don't have to go home but you can’t stay here. Did anyone call 911?”
The voice comes from behind me, then suddenly I’m being pushed to the side by the same guy I just walked in on. Except, this time he’s clothed. The unidentified man hovers over Aly as they both try their best to get a handle on the situation. Spit, foam, and whatever else begins to cover the woman’s cheeks as her mahogany skin gets paler and paler with every trickling second. With the lights on everything gains clarity: Aly’s flushed face from the stress of what’s happening, the tanned guy with alarmingly bushy brows, and the people still trying to get a snapshot of the scene.
My body remains frozen in time while I observe. I want to move forward, but gravity weighs down on me like a ton of bricks. Moving isn’t an option. There’s a girl dying on the floor, and I can’t even function properly enough to help. My heart bangs at my rib cage as catching my breath proves to be harder to do. It’s all settling in now. It’s all making sense.
People in this town don’t have any decency; if anything, the only thing they have is audacity. They don’t even give enough of a fuck to take care of themselves. Is this what they do? They party with no regard of who might miss them, or need them later on in life? It’s selfish.
It’s all too much.
Shaking my head feverishly, I mouth “no” a hundred times as I push through the crowd and out the front door. With shaky fingers, I’m torn between praying that I didn’t just watch another person die and attempting to focus on sending Aly a “had to go” text.
My heart runs a mile a minute and scattered thoughts follow its lead. There’s no amount of fresh air that can help me now.
See what happens every time you try to “live a little”?
Five
I THINK I tossed and turned a million times when I got home that night—and a million times more throughout the last few weeks. Sleep has become a stranger to me, and so has Alejandra.
By Sunday morning I thought I would forget that party entirely. I’d wake up and somehow just as my energy was replenished, I’d be able to get back to embracing this new life I was dragged into.
Did I ever attempt to embrace it, though? I mean, I did. Or maybe I just want to embrace one thing—one person who just so happened to live here. I don’t know. What I do know, though, is that when I go out of my way, when I get too excited about something, bad things happen. So what’s the point?
Something else did happen that night, though. It wasn’t the negative feelings that I’m trying so hard to shake now. Instead, part of my time has gone to ignoring that fluffy, child-like feeling in the pit of my gut. But these things are sneaky. There’s no avoiding them when they creep up on you. It’s washing your hair and remembering how his cheekbones lift oh, so effortlessly when he smiles. It’s being in the middle of a conversation and wondering how it’d go if it was him on the phone instead.
He sent me a text, a few hours after I walked out of that condo: this is Xavier’s number.
I wanted to know how the hell he got my number, I wanted to text back, but my main concern was where the hell was he? A girl was dying on his floor, and he wasn’t around. What could possibly be more important than someone’s life?
The whole night sticks with me, like gum on pavement. I don’t know if that girl survived. I don’t know enough about her to even try and find out. Maybe Aly did.
From the glimpses of her that I’ve seen, she’s been working hard on new music, so I guess that’s a good thing. She’s doing everything right: meeting the models, writing the music, building her reputation in this scum of a city. So, no, we haven’t spoken about it. And we probably never will.
Tonight is one of those nights where she sends a “luv u xo, won’t be home till late. pls come out with me eventually u hermit” text. My brown orbs meet the clock, the glowing numbers letting me know it’s only eight. It was just noon. I turn over as the blankets swallow me whole. This bed is slowly but surely becoming the only thing I can depend on these days. The blankets, the pillows, they all hug me in a way no human ever has. Not for a while, at least.
Restlessness. The cause of time flying but your thoughts somehow managing to keep running in place.
With all the things circling my mind, there’s always been one common factor—Xavier. He’s running circles around my head rent free, and it’s causing a migraine. Where did he go? It wouldn’t be so bad to find out, right? It’s not like I want to see him or anything because trust me I don’t. I’m just . . . curious.
My fingers, in desperate need of a manicure, trace over his contact name. To send or to not send that pride-crushing text. He’s been waiting long enough, right? Shit, he’s probably forgotten about me by now.
You won’t know until you try.
With one eye open, I quickly press the letters on the keypad and hit send. Busy?
What a stupid text. He’s not going to reply to that. I wouldn’t acknowledge it either if I was him. Of course he’s fucking busy. He’s an undefeated boxer and, well, he’s kind of cute.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Nine p.m. My favorite chef went home.
Midnight. I’m pretty sure I can make the perfect appetizer from a mystery basket of ingredients.
Two a.m. Did Casey Anthony actually kill her daughter? I guess I can watch this documentary.
Four a.m. The sound of stumbling and the front door slamming occupies my attention. My best decision would be to pretend to be asleep, right? Alejandra’s muffled tone comes across as annoyed, her voice going up and down as she tries to control the volume in which she’s speaking. I turn the TV off. Get up and see what’s going on, or sit here in silence? If she wants to tell me, she will, right? Can I even count on that these days?
Wait—there’s a second voice and heavier steps. This one I can’t make out, no matter how hard I try. But it doesn’t sound like this person is over the phone. Are they physically here? Like right now? The voice is deep, almost familiar—a man. Quickly, I rise, creep over to the door, and glue my right ear to it.
“Give me one good reason!” The thick Australian accent fills my ears and that’s when I know—Christian.
Why didn’t he tell you he was coming?
“I do not want you. Okay? Point blank fucking period. Go home,” Alejandra spits out in a hushed tone.
Moments of silence follow her sentence. Heavy footsteps shake the oakwood floors before a slam of the front door follows shortly after.
My countdown continues. By five a.m. I’ve given myself a homemade mani-pedi and learned all the words to “All I Want For Christmas Is You.” I guess I can take that one off my bucket list. My body is jolted with energy now, completely unfazed by my lack of sleep. Suddenly, the vibration of my phone alerts me, sending my heart racing as Xavier’s name pops up on the screen.
Up?
It vibrates again.
I can pick you up if you are.
With a deep sigh, and one eye open, I quickly type okay before raiding my closet for something that screams, “I’m not trying too hard, I swear!”
Time slows down for the first time in days. But my heartbeat hasn’t. To go with a man who lives a life where people openly perform sexual acts in his home and overdose in his home. To go with a man like that will probably go down in one of my dumbest decisions in history. But I can’t stop myself.
