Prayer for the Dead (Revenants in Purgatory) Page 5

  “No, don’t leave on my account. Go back in, have fun with your boyfriend.” The last part came out more bitchy and slurred than I intended it to. “I’m sorry. This was a really bad idea.”

  “Let’s get you home then.” She hooked her arm with mine and tried to hail a cab.

  “No, I’ll be fine. It’s my own stupid fault anyway.”

  “What is, getting drunk?”

  “No, getting all doe-eyed over a guy I knew for what, like six hours? A guy I met in a bar, who wanted nothing more than a one-night stand. How fucking stupid was I to not see that?” I shook my head. The tears were building but I’d be damned if I was going to let them fall. He didn’t deserve them.

  “Oh, doll face...” There was so much empathy in Portia’s expression that I had to turn away.

  A cab finally pulled up to the curb. I silently cursed the driver, figuring he only stopped because he saw Portia. The nasty man-hater in me screamed, Men suck! Chop of their wangs and let them burn! But I climbed in the back seat anyway.

  “Go back in and enjoy your night. I’ll be fine. I just need to be alone, all right?”

  “I’ll call you later then, okay?”

  “Okay,” I mumbled.

  She closed the door and blew me a kiss as the cab pulled away.

  One short, somewhat nauseating, cab ride later, I was home. Stripping out of my clubbing clothes, I sought solace in my slob-wear. I flipped off the overhead light and crawled under the covers of my inviting bed. Turning on the television, I flipped through the channels but never landed on anything for more than a few seconds. I surfed for over an hour, as my mind drifted back to the previous weekend. Frustrated, I threw the remote down and stared at the ceiling.

  Okay, pity party time is over, I thought to myself. This is ridiculous. Tonight, you’re going to get some sleep and tomorrow you are going to forget about Drake. It was a blip in time, nothing more. He probably hasn’t even given you a second thought since he left and here you are, wasting all this time and energy thinking about a guy you hardly know. Not even a guy, a Reaper... with mesmerizing eyes, NO! Stop it! You’re being pathetic! That’s it—you’re done! Now go to sleep.

  I rolled over and angrily yanked the blankets up below my chin before pressing my cheek into the pillow. As I drifted to sleep, I allowed myself one final memory of his eyes, hoping that I would never think of him again.

  ...

  The following evening, my mood hadn’t changed much. I was still in the same slob-wear I had worn to bed. Tore was out for the night again, which was just as well since I had been snapping at him all day anyway. Had he been home, we would have probably just gotten into a fight over a toy of mine that he broke when I was five or something equally stupid.

  I padded into the kitchen to dig around in the freezer, looking for an edible microwave meal. Finding one near the back that appeared less repulsive than the others, I stabbed some holes in the plastic before tossing it in the microwave and slamming the door.

  While I waited for my craptastic dinner to heat, I boiled some water on the stovetop to make a cup of tea. I opened and slammed every cupboard, searching for my favorite mug before I finally located it in the dishwasher—I slammed the door to that, too. Yes, I was being childish, but no one was home to scold me for making too much noise and it made me feel a tiny bit better to take my anger out on inanimate objects. So, just for good measure, I opened and slammed the cupboards a few more times.

  When the microwave finished destroying what little nutrients the meal had, I took my “food” and tea into the dining room. I unceremoniously tossed the cardboard carton onto the table before flopping down in a chair. I just opened a magazine, to catch up on my celebrity gossip, when there was a knock at the door.

  A quick survey through the peephole revealed my unannounced guest was Devon. I looked down at my crumpled, slept-in clothes, feeling a little self-conscious, but shrugged it off. He had seen me in worse. When I opened the door, he smiled but I couldn’t get the muscles in my face to respond with anything other than the frown I’d been wearing all week. He mocked my expression in a playful way, but I wasn’t amused.

  “Hey, are you busy?”

  “I don’t know, depends on if sitting around hating myself counts?” He didn’t find me humorous, “No, I’m not busy. C’mon in.” I swept my hand behind me to usher him in. He carried a large paper bag and I followed behind as he went into the dining room to set it down.

  “I don’t mean to just barge in, but I wanted to check on you.”

  Word had apparently traveled through the grapevine about my club meltdown. Thank you, Portia.

  ”I was going to text you, but thought that was stupid. You don’t text your best friend when she’s down in the dumps. Then I thought about calling you, but if I called you then I couldn’t bring you these.” From the bag, he pulled out a beautiful bouquet of flowers. He was clearly on the “Cheer-up-Olivia” committee.

  The bouquet was an elegant mixture of orchards, hydrangeas, and carnations in vibrant shades of red and white. I closed my eyes as I brought them to my face, inhaling their sweet perfume. They were perfect. Despite the fact that my friends were clearly talking about me behind my back, I had to admit, the gesture was really sweet.

  “Thank you, butt-munch.”

  “You’re welcome, dork-face.” Devon smiled, walking to where I had been seated moments before. The disgust was evident on his face as he lifted the edge of the cardboard meal, “What the hell is this, Liv?”

  “That, Dev... would be my dinner.”

  “Good thing I came when I did then. Looks like I’ll be saving you from yourself, yet again.”

  He walked back to the paper bag and pulled out food from a takeout place he frequented. I knew, without a doubt, he brought me all kinds of healthy, alfalfa sprout, tofu food. Even though Devon had been dead for, I don’t know how many years, he was still very health conscious. He tried to impart these habits on me whenever possible, my resistance notwithstanding. Honestly, most of the stuff he made me eat I actually really liked, but I’d never admit to it to him.

  “Hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty. I brought some sandwiches, salads, and some fruit or, if you prefer, I can leave you to your frozen... whatever.”

  I picked up my “dinner” with a huff, and took it into the kitchen where I promptly threw it away. I knew it was horribly wasteful. Normally, I’d just eat that junk in front of him and watch him gag, but he was trying to do something nice for me, so I let him have this one.

  I shuffled back to the dining room where Devon still hovered over the paper bag. “What else you got in there, Mr. Wizard?”

  He reached in, producing a bottle of vodka and a few cans of Red Bull. That was my boy! No fancy liquor here, tonight. Just good ol’ fashioned, get your friend sloshed so she can forget her troubles, kind of liquor. I ran back into the kitchen to get a few shot glasses and cups. We abandoned the food on the table and dove straight into the liquor.

  We moved the party to the living room where we sat on the couch side by side, mixing drinks and taking shots. Portia hadn’t told Devon the whole story, just merely mentioned he needed to “check” on me, so I had the pleasure of filling him in on why I had been such a sourpuss all week. I couldn’t bring myself to say Drake’s name, so I left him as some anonymous tool instead. By the time I finished recanting my tale, we were both fairly hammered.

  “You know what I think, Liv?”

  “Hmm?” I asked, pouring another shot for each of us.

  “I think the guy’s an idiot.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed absently, as we each slammed them back.

  “No, seriously. Look at you.” I looked down at myself, not really knowing what I was supposed to be seeing. “You’re gorgeous. He’s a fucking idiot if he doesn’t want you.” While I agreed with the sentiment that Drake was a fucking idiot, I really couldn’t see myself in the light that Devon was trying to paint me.

  “Seriously, he’s a fucking
idiot.”

  “You mentioned that already.” I laughed.

  “Liv, look at me. I mean it, you’re perfect.” Before I knew it, he leaned forward, planting a kiss on my lips. I was completely taken off guard by this, but he pulled away as quickly.

  “What was that?” I laughed.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged and laughed. “Seemed like the thing to do.”

  As far as drunken kisses went, it hadn’t been half-bad. As we continued to laugh, my alcohol soaked brain had the wacky notion I wanted to kiss him again. Since it had been the first time all week that my insides weren’t being ripped out, I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.

  “Devon, kiss me again.”

  “Noooo.”

  “C’mon, kiss me!” I leaned towards him, closing my eyes, and dramatically puckering my lips. He leaned away before jumping off the sofa and stumbling across the room. “Devon, you know ya wanna. If you don’t kiss me, I’m gonna kiss you.”

  The statement sounded one-hundred percent logical to me—at the time. Because, we all know the best thing to do is force yourself on someone, after they tell you no.

  A twinkle of mischief appeared in his eye. “Olivia, I’m not going to kiss you again.”

  “You’re not?” I asked, and he shook his head. “Then, I guess I’ll just have to kiss you, and I’ll do it too.”

  “You will not.”

  We had a very juvenile round of will not, will so but as it progressed, some of the humor deflated and it felt like a real argument.

  “You don’t have the guts. You’re too much of a chicken to put the moves on me.” He drummed a finger on his chest with narrowed eyes and a playful smile.

  I’m not a chicken. I can be bold when I want to be. What does he know? Sure, he’s my best friend, but he doesn’t know me.

  The alcohol was doing all of my thinking because that last part was complete and utter bullshit. Devon knew me better than anyone, but try telling that to the vodka. I took his chicken statement as a dare and one I was going to see through.

  Before the tiny sliver of brain that wasn’t drowning in liquor had a chance to say this was a stupid idea, I slowly lifted from the sofa. It took a few moments to get my balance, but once I did, it was game on. I sashayed towards him, swaying my hips ever so slightly as I went. He looked me up and down as I approached, stifling his laughter through pursed lips. Sure, I was wearing pajama bottoms and a hoodie, but I was doing my damnedest to make it look good.

  When we were toe to toe, I met his eyes and placed my hands lightly on his chest. I arched up on my tiptoes, drawing my lips closer to his. My eyes were half closed when I was about to make contact, but then he slowly leaned back out of reach. I ran my hands up his chest, locking my fingers around the back of his neck. Our lips were about to make contact once more but he pulled away again.

  He laughed. The mischief was gleaming bright in his eyes. The frustration must have been blinding in mine. Clearly, I wasn’t any good at playing seductress, so instead I went with plan number two—shock and awe. I released him, pretending to walk away, but the second he let his guard down, I grabbed him fast and hard, bringing his lips to mine.

  I kissed him intensely, without holding anything back, just to prove a point. However, as he was starting to get into it, I ended it and watched him sag as I pulled away. We were both in stitches again. I was very proud of myself. I knew I could be bold when I wanted to be, but something strange happened in that moment of pride, as well as the following silence. After the laughter all but died down, he pulled me in close. I wrapped my arms around his neck and our lips locked together once again.

  This time, it wasn’t completely my fault. We kissed each other. I didn’t know his reasons, but mine were horrible and selfish. I wanted to feel better. Problem was—it wasn’t making me feel any better. If anything, it made me feel worse but, instead of stopping, I kissed him with more urgency. I knew, if anyone could kiss away my pain, it would be Devon and, at that point, I was willing to let him try. As luck would have it, he didn’t get the chance because a moment later the front door opened.

  “Awww... holy hell!” Tore came into the apartment just as I released and jumped away from Devon. “You have a bedroom for that, you know.”

  I rolled my eyes at Tore, although I was sure my cheeks were a lovely shade of beet-red. Devon, on the other hand, looked as cool as a cucumber. “What are you doing home so early? I thought you were going out with the guys from work.”

  “Early? Are you aware that it’s after one?”

  Now that he mentioned it, no... I was not, but a quick glance at the clock confirmed it. Tore went into his bedroom, leaving Devon and I in a very awkward silence, before he suggested it was time to go. I promptly agreed and showed him out. After I closed the door, that little, sober piece of my brain started speaking to me again. What the hell did you just do? I leave you alone for five minutes... God, you are such a train wreck.

  Tore strutted back into the room, wearing that same smug smile of his. He plunked down on the sofa, tossing his feet up on the coffee table. Angrily, I motioned for him to take them down. He complied, but picked up the mostly empty vodka bottle and raised his brows. I ignored him and went to the kitchen for a glass of water, very much aware his eyes were following me. After a few moments of his scrutiny, I snapped.

  “What?”

  The arrogant jerk shook his head and smiled.

  “Seriously, what?”

  “You and Devon, huh? Thought you guys were only friends?”

  “We were... are...”

  “Ah, gotcha, It’s a “benefits” thing now?” He wagged his eyebrows at me.

  “What?” It took me a minute to catch what he was implying. “No! It’s nothing like that.”

  “Is it because he has money?”

  “No! It’s not that, either. Why are you asking all these questions?”

  He came into the kitchen and leaned on the counter across from me. “You’ve been awfully mopey all week, since that one guy gave ya the ol’ wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. I’m just surprised you’re jumping into a relationship with Devon, is all.”

  “I’m not jumping into anything. I just kissed him. You, of all people, should know one kiss does not a relationship make. Besides, why do you care anyway?” He opened his mouth to speak, but I held up a hand to him, “And how do you know about that guy?” I refused to say his name.

  “You walked into the kitchen wearing a sheet. It’s not rocket surgery.”

  “Well done, Sherlock. You cracked the case of Olivia having a one-night stand with a total asshole. I’ll be sure to get you a fucking medal.”

  “God, you’re an angry drunk. No need to get all menstrual on me. I was just asking a question.” He stomped away to his bedroom, leaving me leaning against the counter alone.

  I was being an angry drunk, but I had no intention of apologizing, especially when he was intentionally pushing my buttons. Sipping my water, I stared at nothing in particular for a while before I set the glass down in the sink and went to my room.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, my eyes were drawn to the door and, more importantly, what was still hanging from it. I jumped up, grabbed the flannel, crumpled it into a ball, and threw it in my wastepaper basket. That flannel was beginning to represent a week of mistakes, but I stared at it for a long time before I was finally disgusted with myself. Without changing out of the clothes I had been in for over twenty-four hours, I flopped down onto my bed and passed out.

  I woke briefly after three and made my way to the bathroom. When I returned to my bedroom with a much-relieved bladder, I found myself looking down into the wastepaper basket again. I pulled out the flannel, hung it back on the hook behind the door, and was welcomed back to bed by a dark dream.

  Chapter 7

  The turnout for the party was better than expected. It had been a lot of fun to catch up, considering I hadn’t seen a lot of the people since college graduation. It was past three AM and I wanted to
go home, but Tore had been dodging me for over an hour. The sandman was calling, but I had to keep putting him on hold, thanks to my brother’s out-of-control libido. On my third lap around the party, I finally located Tore. Not surprisingly, he was extremely intoxicated and making passes at some blonde from a bottle, bad boob job, skeezer one of our friends allowed to tag along.

  Tore stuck to the shadows, ducking behind his new “friend” as I approached. “C’mon, we need to go home.”

  “So soon?” Skeezer pouted, stroking Tore’s arm and batting her heavily mascaraed lashes. I didn’t even want to think about what kind of hepatitis, chlamydia, distemper, monkey pox, STDs that tramp could transmit to my mentally incapacitated brother.

  “Yeah, sorry,” I sneered. “We have a long drive home and Tore has to be to work early in the morning.”

  “Lighten up, sister. It’s early yet,” Tore slurred.

  I shoved my watch in his face. “No, it’s not.”

  “Technically, three o’ clock in the morning is early.”

  “No, three o clock is late if you haven’t been to bed yet. Party’s over, come now or I’m leaving your ass here. You can walk home and hope like hell you don’t get eaten by a bear.”

  He was having trouble staying upright as his head swiveled around on his shoulders. His lids fell heavily over his eyes, and I wondered if he hadn’t just passed out on his feet. Judging from appearances, he was one beer shy of severe alcohol poisoning and a trip to the emergency room. I yanked his arm hard, breaking him free of Skeezer’s grasp. He waved goodbye to the missed “opportunity”, as I dragged him away.

  Tore was nothing but a heap in the passenger seat of my four-door sedan. I ran the seatbelt across his sagging body, snapping it into place with a loud click. He looked a little green around the gills and I suspected he wouldn’t make it home before puking. I gave a reminder to let me know ahead of time, so I could stop the car to let him out. He gave me a garbled response, before I popped the car into gear and began our descent.

  The party had been held at a friend’s cabin and the drive was an absolute bitch. The road leading to it was a hairpin, twisting, dirt exercise in patience and stress. Trying to navigate the thing in broad daylight was a challenge, but now, with nightfall, it was downright terrifying. Being so far removed from civilization, the area was plunged into nothing but inky darkness.