Page 1 of A Hint of Delirium

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VIOLET

I’m not crazy.

At least … I don’tthinkI am.

I have to remind myself of that daily or I might just start believing I’m bonkers. As far back as I can remember, I’ve seen things others didn’t see. I heard things others didn’t hear. When I was younger it was cute—I would see creatures from afar and draw them, and my mom laughed them off as imaginary friends. But as I got older, the novelty faded and real concern filtered in. That was when I was diagnosed with schizophrenia.

I know what you’re thinking;yeah, she must really be crazy. And maybe I am.

The medications don’t work, even though I tell them they do. In truth, I’m exhausted. I’m tired of the psychiatrist appointments, therapy, and all the pill popping I have to do that barely keeps me functioning. I want to be normal, and if that means I have to pretend I don’t see and hear the creatures that roam around me, so be it.

I felt that way until I interacted with one for the first time. Then everything changed.

* * *

The night was busierthan usual and my feet ached from being on them for so many hours. I dipped into the kitchen and checked the tickets at the counter—the order for my table was ready. I snatched up the two plates of food I was waiting on and hustled out of the kitchen to the bustling dining room, hurrying to the table in my assigned section to serve them their dinner.

The Black Keys Bar & Bistro was located in Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan, and as the name suggested, it was a dueling piano bar. It was the best job I’d ever had because even though I was stuck as a waitress, on slow nights they let me jump on the piano and play.

Unfortunately, those times were rare because this place was almost always packed to the brim, like it was tonight.

In the center of the restaurant the two dueling pianos faced each other, surrounded by tables and booths where people sat and watched, calling out requests while they ate. The bar was on the left side, lined with stools for those patrons who just came in for drinks. The decor was musically themed, accented with an array of black-framed pictures signed by a laundry list of artists who had visited the restaurant over the years.

The music was loud and the cheers were even louder as people shouted out the names of songs they wanted the pianists to play next.

“Girl, have you seen the hottie who just sat in your section?” Korey came to stand beside me at the end of the bar while I waited for my drink order.

I didn’t make friends easily, but Korey was so outgoing it was hard not to befriend him when I started working there. He was tall, blonde, and blue eyed—your all-American boy next door—and total cougar bait. Except he played for the other team. It was a running joke at the restaurant.

“Who?” I turned around to look in my section. The room was dimly lit, so I had to squint to get a good look. “I don’t see anyone—” I choked on my last word as I focused on the booth in the back corner.

Though he sat in the shadows, the light filtered through just enough so I could see his features clearly. He wore the most beautiful smile I’d ever seen, so innocent but devious at the same time. He wore his hair in a shaggy cut with loose chestnut curls that fell over his forehead. His eyes didn’t seem brown, but I couldn’t get an exact color from this far away. His ethereal glow from under the dim lighting stole my breath away. His broad arm rested on the back of the curved booth, and he leaned down to talk to … the woman cozied up beside him.

“Go talk to him, Vi!” Korey nudged me.

“He’s with someone,” I mumbled nervously.

“You’re way hotter than she is.” He snorted. “Plus, you still have to take his order.”

The bartender approached with the three drinks I was waiting on and placed them on my tray. I muttered a thanks and turned pleading eyes to my friend. “Switch sections with me?” I didn’t think I could speak, much less look at that guy. He was too beautiful for words. I typically preferred a burlier type of man, but there was a masculinity to him that just worked.

“Hell, no!” Korey threw his head back and laughed. “Don’t be scared, Vi. Go give him some of that Latin fire.” He wiggled his brows.

I rolled my eyes and nearly fell over. Latin fire? More like a crash and burn. I had zero social skills, much less flirting skills. Not like my mother. I looked just like her, but we couldn’t be more different. We had the same curly, dark brown hair that was wild if not tamed. Our eyes were brown, but flashed caramel under the sun. If we laughed too hard, we closed our eyes. Same bronze skin and height, but that was where the similarities ended. My mom was obviously sane, for starters, and she had men eating out of the palm of her hand. Not that she gave into that. I’d been her priority since day one. Sometimes I wished she’d date so she wouldn’t feel so alone. I didn’t want to be a burden to her.

After collecting a trio of beers, Korey walked away to serve his tables. I should have been doing the same instead of drooling over a customer. A customer, I might add, that I should have already been serving. I dropped down to tie my shoelaces, brushed my fingers over the anklet my mother had given me for luck when I was a child, and popped back up, ready to go be socially awkward.

I hurriedly dropped off my last order of drinks and headed to the booth where the mystery man was seated with his lady friend. I smiled brightly and pulled out my notepad.

“Hello, welcome to The Black Keys. Can I start you off with something to drink?” I offered, trying to avoid all eye contact.

Up close, he was even more intoxicating. And with the light reflecting off his face, I could finally see his eyes. My heart gave a light squeeze when I noticed they were a brilliant shade of emerald green. My eyes drifted to his hair, startled when I noticed something poking out of the sides.

Is that his ear? Does he have pointed ears? No way!

Maybe he was into cosplaying. There was a lot of weird shit in New York, after all.

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