Page 103 of Stone Promises

This night is turning into the most surreal night of my life. I’m starting to feel a disconnect between my mind and my body, like all of this is a dream happening to someone else.

“Is that what she wants?” I ask.

He shrugs. “I’m not sure. She just told me yesterday. But look at her,” he says. “She looks happy, doesn’t she?”

“She looks happy, Jul-ann. You shuuu go fer it.”

He scrunches his eyes at me. “Are you sure that’s your first drink, bro?”

“Uh huh,” I say, laughing. But the laugh comes out of my eyes, the sound swirling into the room in brightly colored hues. “Somethin’s goin’ on.”

A loud crash comes from behind us. I turn to see one of the distraught caterers who had dropped a glass of champagne.

“I’ll deal with that,” Julian says. “Go drink some water.”

I get up and float to my bedroom, walking through to the bathroom so I can splash some water on my face. When I lift my head up, I look in the mirror and see Mallory behind me. Actually, I smell her more than I see her. Because at this point, everything I see is little more than a blur. I need to lie down.

“How strong a drink did ya make me, Mal?”

She comes up behind me and whispers into my ear. “Let’s get you into bed, Chad.”

I turn around and bury myself into her. She smells so damn good I can see it. I can actually see her smell. It’s like pink and purple flowers are coming out of her pores. I want to grab them. I reach out and feel her hot flesh under my hand. She’s so soft and welcoming. I let her lead me to our new bed. I’m already getting hard. I know what she promised me earlier and she’s about to deliver.

When she guides me to the bed, I feel like I’m not even moving but that I’m stationary and things are moving around me. Every object has a tracer feel to it. Not trails like when you move a flashlight quickly, more like paths of liquid, like wormhole trails in sci-fi movies. Oh, yeah, I’m doing research for that film. That’s what this is. I should thank Mal for helping me.

When she pushes me down on the bed, it’s in slow motion, the bed swallowing me up when I hit the soft duvet. I hold my arms out for her to join me, but when I do, my hands are white static, like I’m in a virtual reality game.

Mallory leans down to kiss me and it’s like no kiss I’ve ever felt. Not only can I feel her kiss; I can see it. And when she puts my hands to her breasts, I can hear them as well as feel them. And I surmise this is the best fucking dream I’ve ever had in my life.

She rips off my shirt and I rip off hers, seeing the sounds of her buttons as they fly through the air. She leaves me as I watch them float and suspend above my head. When Mal comes back, she sits beside me, holding something up to her nose as she laughs in delight. She holds something out to me, telling me I should sniff it and it will make all this even better.

I just want to be inside her so I push her hand away, watching the wormhole trail as it moves. “Just need you . . . now.”

She climbs on top of me, grinding herself into me as I try to touch as much flesh as I can, but our damn pants are getting in the way. I reach down to fix the situation.

And then, I hear voices. Many voices behind me. But mostly I hear Mal. Which is strange, because Mal is on top of me. But when I turn my head to see the voices, I see Mal. She’s everywhere in the room. She’s yelling at me but I see her words more than I hear them.

“Stupid bastard,” I see floating through the air. Then I hear something small hit the top of my head.

More images appear in my bedroom, floating around me.

“Can I kick her ass now, Thad?” I see someone say. “Or maybe I should just kickyours.”

My body bounces off the bed along with Mal’s as she screams to be let go. Then I think I see Julian say, “you’ll have to wait in fucking line,” right before I see red wormhole trails before my eyes. And then . . . nothing.

Chapter Thirty

Mallory

The sun set long ago and my behind hurts from sitting on the hard wooden planks for hours. Every time I think there aren’t any more tears for me to cry, I picture Chad underneath her in our bedroom—on our bed—and the waterworks start all over again. I’ve gone over it a thousand times. Why would he do that to me?

There’s only one explanation and it breaks my heart almost as much as the fact that he cheated on me. Cocaine. He’s told me before the addiction is still there. The draw is still strong. I guess he wasn’t strong enough to resist it after all.

The thing is, I know he hates her. He would have never been with Heather if he hadn’t gotten high. But it really doesn’t matter anymore. Even if he wouldn’t have been with Heather, I would still have left him. And he knows it. Yet he still did it. Stupid bastard.

He promised.

“There you are. Jesus,” I hear someone say behind me, following an exasperated sigh. I close my eyes, squeezing more tears out. I don’t want to see anyone. Not even my best friend.

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