Page 9 of All Your Lies
Stepping into my kitchen, I open my stainless-steel refrigerator and grab the neck of the half-full bottle of Moscato. I forgo the glass and drink it straight from the source. With its notes of peach and grapefruit, the slightly fizzy wine brings back memories of summers in Turin, Italy with my mom’s side of the family. The last time we visited, we took Rosie, and I may have convinced her to join me in indulging in an entire bottle of sweet wine, just like this one, from the underground wine cellar. We were so intoxicated that we dozed off amid the flowers, only tobe abruptly awoken by the sprinklers dousing us the following morning. Despite the awful hangover, the memory never fails to bring a smile to my face.
I dial her burner cell, but it goes straight to voicemail again. I never liked the idea of her running by herself. It’s dangerous, but I understand her need to carve her own path and find her happiness. I’m still in the process of finding mine.
I turn on my favorite hip-hop station and begin getting ready for tonight. Though I want to stay in, I realize nights like these will be a distant memory soon, and I should take advantage of the time I have.
Ready by seven fifty, I head over to Jenna’s, not giving her the opportunity to search for me.
I step out onto my porch and my ankle twists on the uneven ground. A low growl escapes my lips as I curse under my breath. I swear I’m so damn clumsy sometimes.
I glance down at my front porch, and my eyes meet a half-smashed red rose. Its vibrant color contrasts against the gray concrete with its silk petals detached and scattered. I bend to retrieve it, then survey the deserted residential street.
I’ve sworn off all men until further notice, so this is a little weird.
Maybe they meant to put this on Jenna’s porch? With a flick of my wrist, I send the crushed rose flying into the manicured bush while its petals scatter in the breeze. Then I walk next door to Jenna’s.
“Knock, knock,” I say through the screen door.
“It’s open,” she yells from the back.
I shake my head at how carefree she is. She doesn’t lock her door. It’s chaos in her apartment, clothes and shoes abandoned in a haphazard mess, the remnants of last night’s dinner still on the counter, and a single fake eyelash clinging to her entry mirror by a thread. But she’s as happy as can be.
“Damn, look at you. I knew that dress would be perfect,” she says with a mischievous smile and eyebrows wagging.
I run my hand along the tight red leather corset of the midi dress. “It’s so damn tight. Do you know how hard it was to get this thing on by myself? I contemplated rubbing myself down with olive oil at one point. I’ll be lucky not to shred it to pieces when I take it off later.”
“The red leather looks amazing with your porcelain skin and dark hair. Besides, maybe you’ll find someone to take it off for you.”
I scrunch my nose. “I’ll pass. Are you almost ready, crazy?”
“Hell yes!”
When we arrive at our destination, a wave of confusion washes over me. My gaze sweeps across the area, revealing only crumbling, deserted industrial buildings.
I turn to Jenna and raise an eyebrow.
“Oh, where’s your sense of adventure? No judging until we get inside.” She pats my leg, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.
“I’ve heard that before. If I die, I’m coming back to haunt your ass! And where’s inside? It looks empty to me,” I say as my eyes scan our surroundings. Nothing good ever happens in places like this after dark.
“Looks can be deceiving. Let’s go.”
Jenna hops out of the car, leaving me to watch her adjust herself. She looks completely flawless, as usual. Her light blue mini dress perfectly complements her eyes, while her heels add at least half a foot to her height, giving her legs for days. It won’t take over twenty minutes for her to have a guy under her spell.
I scramble out of the car far less gracefully and catch up to her. She links her arm with mine with a smile. “Ready?”
“Not even a little.”
As we round the corner of the building, the soft glow of a lone yellow light catches our attention above a door. Very ominous and serial killer, if you ask me.
We stand in front of the imposing metal door, and Jenna raps on it three times. A camera positioned in the top right corner with a red blinking light captures our every action. Accompanied by a piercing screech, a small peephole materialized in the middle of the metal door, causing me to recoil. It’s quite unsettling. The scene suggests a horror movie featuring someone’s torture in a dungeon, with their tormentor checking on their suffering via a tiny hole.
A lone pair of eyes silently watches us, and we end up in this uncomfortable, weird stare off.
I nudge Jenna with my elbow to get her attention. This was her plan, after all.
“Oh shit. Sorry, Obsidian,” she blurts.
My wide eyes travel to her, and all I can think is she’s lost her fucking mind. “Obsidian?” I hiss.
