Page 2 of Deck of Scarlets

Rubbing my forehead, I thought of his strange appearance once more, taking one last peek out the window, down the busy streets and sidewalks.

But his absence remained a mystery, just like my dreams.

Chapter Two

The muggy, sticky air clung to my club clothes, pools of sweat sticking to the back of my neck. The smell of stale rain stained the asphalt and left no promise to cool the summer air. It had been a treacherous pattern since June. So much so that my black, skin-tight dress started to soak in sweat no matter how short of a time I stayed outside.

New York City was buzzing with activity, more so than any other night. Crowds of young teens flooded the streets to get in line for the final concert of the SummerFest season, myself included. My friends, Jeremy and Nickie, stood by me, basking in the same energy, excited to end the summer on a high note.

It was the last summer before we headed in different directions come fall. Nickie had decided to take a year off, and Jeremy chose New York University. His parents weren’t thrilled with the idea of him skipping out on an Ivy League school, but Jeremy never stuck with the status quo. Granted, we’d continue in the city for school, but in distant parts. As for seeing each other, my mother had made it clear that Nickie was not welcome.

“Earth to Rem?” called Jeremy, waving a hand in front of my face.

I began to refocus. “Sorry, just thinking about how much sweat is ruining my clothes.”

“I can feel my balls sticking together as we speak,” he confessed.

I pretended to gag. “Ugh, gross!”

“I think we can begin the drinking now,” said Nickie, diving deep into her bra to retrieve the small silver flask.

She was just about to take a sip when Jeremy snatched it from her grasp, his face twisted in disgust. “Eww, it’s warm from your tits.” He wiped his hands down my exposed arm, and I almost swung at his head.

“Seriously?” I snapped.

“Boob sweat makes me gag,” he said.

“But your balls sticking to you didn’t make me?”

Twisting the cap off the silver flask, Jeremy took a deep sip of whatever mixed drink Nickie had created before handing it back to her. “I need something stronger; I can’t feel the burn anymore.” His tight, black leather pants and a black fishnet shirt perfectly matched the club’s aesthetic. Jeremy’s hair was gelled to a trendy style, and his eyeliner began to run from the heat. My parents loved Jeremy to the point that they gave him an all-expenses-paid trip to Italy, his favorite country, as a gift for graduating.

“Maybe you should stop drinking every night,” snickered Nickie, taking a swig more than Jeremy. Nothing screamed sex appeal like Nickie’s low-cut black top and mini skirt, with tattoos covering most of her arms. One of her many features attracted the rock band members’ eyes every time we attended these events. And it was one of the many things my mother hated about Nickie. Nickie knew she disliked her and made it a point to piss off my mom any way she could—especially with her cross tattoos. My mother’s disdain for anything related to church or God ran deeper than the Nile River but remained a mystery, and, honestly, I didn’t care why.

“Maybe you should stop drinking every night,” he mimicked in a botched version of her voice.

Flipping him off, she shoved the flask in my direction. “Here, Remi, drown your sorrows like the rest of us.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” I said before joining them in their alcoholic stupor. The liquor hit my taste buds like I shoved a packet of pop rocks in my mouth. The flavor intensified as I swallowed it willingly, burning into my empty stomach. It was sweet, with a sour aftertaste, making it more addictive. I greedily took another long sip, getting a couple of angry comments from my friends to save some.

I’m going to regret this later.

We shuffled forward, stopping again just past an alleyway with trashcans overflowing with papers and half-eaten sandwiches. The stench of cigarettes and something rotting made my stomach turn, the alcohol fighting to come back up.

I needed to remind myself to eat before parties like this. Then again, it was best if I had an empty stomach.

“What’s taking so long?” complained Nickie as she fanned her face.

“Last night of the season, so it’s expected,” Jeremy reminded her.

“Yeah, well. I’m hot, and my tits are pooling with sweat.”

“Do you honestly think it would be any better inside? It’s packed tonight.”

Nickie shrugged and said, “At least there’s AC.” She staggered off the curb, her heel catching in the drainage, almost twisting her ankle.

“Somebody’s already wasted,” said someone from behind us.

The crowd got a little rowdy after their showdown. Nickie flipped them off and yelled a string of profanities before Jeremy and I helped her get unstuck as she continued to yell at the guy behind us. Eventually, he got bitched out by a bunch of girls behind him, making Nickie the ultimate winner.

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