Page 43 of Semblance

Just fresh off my date with him, I decided to unwind by spending the following sun-filled day on the patio of my favorite coffee shop, whisked away in the arms of a sexy book. As I sipped on my Americano and lost myself to an adjective-laced sex scene, I was abruptly interrupted.

“I saw you last night.”

It was Justin.

I was at a loss for words. I had tried texting him for over a week and each one of my messages was met with silence. I missed his friendship terribly.

“Justin,” I said, surprised. “I haven’t spoken to you for so long. Please, sit down?”

He looked at me with sour eyes and shook his head.

“I saw you last night,” he repeated himself. “You and your date, that rich guy, were at McDonalds.”

“You were there too?”

Justin shook his head. “I was coming back from the bar and I saw you through the window. Not a place I expected a loaded man to take a girl on a date.”

“I guess I didn’t mingle too well in the classy restaurant,” I said, smiling.

Justin glared at me, angry at first, but the look of hurt that followed made me want to reach out and hug him. It was quite the dilemma. How do you console someone when you were the person that hurt them in the first place?

“I’m sorry Justin,” I began, but he was quick to cut me off.

“No, don’t,” he said. “I really can’t talk to you right now.”

He walked away from the table, breaking off a piece of the happiness I felt earlier this morning, dragging it in the dirt behind him.

I noticed a few awkward glances from the couple sitting at the table next to me. Typically, I would make some rude comment or snarl at them like a wild jungle cat, but I was in no mood for a fight today. Instead, I picked up my coffee and took my reading to the park across the street from the coffee shop.

I settled myself on an empty park bench, cracked open my smutty book and tried to lose myself in a world far away from my emotional problems.

However, my encounter with Justin left me frazzled and no matter how hard I tried to concentrate on the words in my book, I just couldn’t do it.

And then I received my second visit of the day.

“You’re the Golden Virgin,” a voice said with a noticeable British accent that sounded familiar. I looked up from my book and saw a thin man in a beige suit and white dress shirt, his short blonde hair slicked back to one side, his face dressed with a neatly trimmed beard. He looked at me with dark eyes that were filled with venom. Tucked underneath his arm was a large envelope.

“Do I know you?” I asked, feeling rather uncomfortable underneath the man’s gaze.

He sat down next to me and lit a cigarette, not bothering to look at me, as if I were insignificant in whatever world he was living in.

“We met before,” he said in between drags. “Though last time, we were both wearing masks.”

“You were at the party,” I deduced.

“Yes, a rather dreadful affair and a complete waste of time,” he snickered. “Shadow made a mockery of the entire ritual by choosing you.”

“Thanks.”

“In addition, that primitive ape who sits on the throne decided to lay his hands on me.”

Inside my head, all cylinders were firing as I realized who he was. I said his name aloud. “Lucien.”

“So virgin, which I highly doubt you are, what makes you so special and deserving to be chosen?”

“I’m not special at all,” I replied truthfully. “I shit the same way everyone else does.”

I saw Lucien crack a slight smile, but quickly suppressed it by taking a generous puff of his cigarette.

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