Style and Disgrace (8 page)

Wow, I really am a sad person
.

Chapter Ten
Shadow Victims

I remember visiting Los Angeles the very first time. We hit all the sites, kept our eyes open for celebrities, and donned our
blatant tourist
visage proudly. Now, I dress like a secret agent when I’m there just to buy some milk and pray I can get back to the hotel without being spotted. That’s a weird evolution I never expected.

—Abby’s Facebook

I locked myself in my bedroom and sat on the bed, staring out the window. The argument flaring in my head involved whether or not I should kick Ian out of the house immediately or wait until later when we weren’t so pissed. My professional side argued I had to tread lightly because we couldn’t afford to fire two managers in less than a month and that’s where fighting with him would lead for sure.

There wasn’t a good reason to get rid of him, not that I could tell the others about. The fact he was staying the night at my house wasn’t exactly conducive to happiness either. David
might
understand if I explained the circumstances thoroughly, but he shouldn’t have had to. I decided to let the night go by uneventfully because the next several months would be crazy enough to make it not matter.

My mother came back into my head. How the hell did she have any money to be staying at a hotel? Who was she screwing to bankroll what had become her semi-fabulous lifestyle? The best question made me flush, both angry with myself and just because it made me sound like a jerk. Why the hell did I care what she was up to?

I mean, turnabout was fair play and all that.

I texted Sammy and asked her what she was up to. Her reply came right away.

Sammy: Being bored. You?

Me: The same.

Sammy: We’re about to play
Rock Band
with our cousins. Just think of the fun you’re missing!

Me: Hey, I like that game. I get to sing all the songs you guys think are too cheesy to cover.

Sammy: Yep, keep getting your
Night Ranger
on at home cause I will
never
play that piano line outside the living room. That’s a promise!

Me: You suck, I’d own
Sister Christian
.

Sammy: So buy it on iTunes and sing in the shower. Gotta go.

I sighed and flopped back on the bed, closing my eyes. My stomach was a little uneasy from all the spices at dinner and I tried not to believe Ian had done it on purpose. Still, the discomfort didn’t keep me from drifting off. As my senses relaxed, I became fully aware of the empty space in the room, almost as if open air emitted a low, white noise.

I felt as if my body were weightless, my arms and legs so numb I couldn’t be sure they were still there. My breathing was regular, each inhale held for a moment followed by a long, controlled exhale. It was more like a profound meditation than actual sleep, the kind I saw in martial arts movies where the hero was preparing to beat the living ass out of the villain.

Yeah, my monkey style would lean more toward snacking on rice cakes than battling ninjas though. Such is life.

Darkness gave way to a vision of my neighbor’s house through my bedroom window. I could see their deck from my vantage point where they kept their barbecue and expensive lawn furniture. Every summer, the few times I was home they would host parties with kids, blow up swimming pools, and serve enough booze to make a sports bar look like an AA meet up.

The sun was down. Dusk made their yard matte gray with black textures. Everything was quiet and the well-manicured grass seemed lonely as night took over. I wanted to open my window and breathe in the night air, but I couldn’t. Something held me back so I continued to observe, a silent voyeur of nothing.

If this is a dream, it’s kind of lame.

Their sliding glass door opened and two people came out. I couldn’t make out their features. They were silhouettes outlined in dark green. Their features were obscured by blotted, wild colors ranging from red to orange to yellow. Each time they moved, the colors flared in different parts of their bodies. Their centers were darker and the extremities were lighter, down to the feet of the woman, which were almost blue.

I couldn’t make out what they were saying at first, but it was clear they were arguing. He thrust his finger in her face, gesticulating abruptly. She didn’t recoil, didn’t so much as take a step back. They were locked in a battle of willpowers and neither had any intention of backing down.

An instinctive jolt filled my head and I knew they were escalating toward something terrible. I strained to move, wanting to open the window and tell them to stop. Whatever disagreement they were having, they could work it out. They didn’t have to resort to hurting one another, not any more than they already had anyway.

I couldn’t move, but their voices came to me first as whispers then as clear as if they were in my bedroom.

“You’re a fucking bitch,” he said to her, trying to keep his voice low, but it rasped against his slim control. “You’re a lying, conniving whore and you really should just admit it!”

“I’m a fucking bitch?” Her voice raised an octave as rage swallowed her whole. “You fucked my sister, our lawyer, and even another guy and
I’m
the fucking bitch? I’ve never met anyone who deserved to be castrated quite as much as you! I got tired of waiting around at home and finally took care of myself. So what? Between the two of us, I’d have to be gang-raped to be more messed up than you.”

“I didn’t sleep with that guy, God damn it! That was a rumor!”

“You don’t deny the others?”

“You know about the others! We have to work this out, Jill. Think of the kids—”

“Is that what you were thinking about when you screwed Sarah in your office? Were you worrying about the family while getting a little oral advice from the lawyer in
our
bed? I’m thinking of the kids. The fact is, I can’t believe I’m so calm. I wish I had the nerve to kill you for what you’ve done!”

No!
I tried to shout, but it was just a thought trapped in my mind. I couldn’t do anything. I was a reluctant observer. Waking up was not an option and yet there I was, seemingly aware…seemingly conscious…but not.

“Oh, this is too much! Do you hear yourself? Now you’re
threatening
me? Come on!”

The woman lashed out and slapped him in the face so hard he stumbled toward the edge, his hands slapping the railing. He leaned there for a moment, staring down at his gray yard. I knew his thoughts, knew the impulses that rushed through his sinews and nerves, tingling his extremities and making him tremble.

He thought about the life he had built with that woman. He wondered how he could possibly have screwed it up so badly and how his urges had destroyed everything he loved. His lust had always been uncontrollable, but he figured he could hide it properly. He never counted on his sister-in-law
telling
his wife about their rendezvous.

And he hadn’t counted on the impulse that drove him to a desperate act in the next few moments.

I fought to move so hard my entire body throbbed and ached. Nausea threatened to overwhelm me and I fought through it, desperate to intercede before he could act. The whole effort was wasted. I was doomed to watch, a viewer in the theater yelling at the victim to avoid the dark cellar where the killer was waiting.

He turned from his perch, tears burning his eyes. His hands lashed out and he grabbed his wife, who was considerably smaller than he was. Fingers tightened about her throat, cutting off a scream. He drew back a fist and pommeled her once in the face. I sensed the pain flare through her body for just a moment before she passed out.

I experienced her death from a firsthand perspective. Even unconscious, some part of her was aware of her impending end. Darkness closed in from either side, pressing her head like a vice. Some unseen weight constricted her chest, squeezing her lungs with invisible hands trying to make a bag airtight. Her heart beat faster than ever before, like a terrified rodent in the embrace of a bored, murderous cat.

She woke up just long enough to pass from the world. Her eyes opened and the last image burned in her mind was the very thing she had loved not so long ago. A face she thought handsome had become ugly, her murderer…her end. They had committed to each other and she had sacrificed so much only to be betrayed time and again.

The final time was more than terrifying. It shook her to the core and as I watched her soul lift from the husk that had been her body, I began to sob. Her pain became his pain. I couldn’t sympathize. As he wondered desperately about what he had done, I wanted to see him die. I wanted him to follow her, the attack he had initiated visited upon him. I would have done anything at that moment to be the one to throw the switch, pull the trigger, or shove off the building.

I bolted upright on my bed, falling onto the floor. Sweat-covered, I was having a hard time breathing. Tears flowed freely and I picked up the sobs from my dream without missing a beat. The clarity I felt while watching them from the window was replaced by sheer panic. Had I witnessed an actual murder or was my imagination simply twisted beyond reason? I couldn’t tell one way or another.

I crawled to the window, clawing up the wall to peer outside. My pulse raced as I fully expected to see the man hovering over the corpse of his wife, but instead of a macabre scene, there was nothing. The empty deck, the vacant yard, and the opposite side of their fence still in desperate need of a paint job.

What the fuck was that?
I wanted to scream the question. A knock on my bedroom made me jump.

“Abigail?” Ian’s voice was muffled, but I could still hear the concern. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

I couldn’t help myself. Any port in a storm, desperation, terror, I couldn’t tell what drove me. I crawled to my feet and stumbled over to let him in. My fingers fumbled with the lock, but once it was disengaged, I threw the door open and fell against him, clinging as desperately as a drowning woman would to her savior.

“What’s wrong?” Ian’s arms closed around me, his hand lifting to pet the back of my head. “Abigail, what’s happened?”

“Dream…” I gasped. “I think…people…next door…argument…murder…”

“Oh dear…” He let out a sigh. “It’s okay, Abby. I’m here now.”

“What was it?” I still couldn’t risk raising my voice above a whisper. “What did I just see?”

“Shadows of the future,” he replied. “Something that could be…will be most likely. That was your father’s talent as well. He was able to see events in great detail, even feel what the participants felt. It was quite extraordinary.”

“Extraordinarily horrible!” I leaned back and looked up at his face. “What do I do? Call someone? Intervene? How do I prevent what I saw from happening?”

His brows lifted. “Do you want to?”

“Of course I want to! I don’t want the person to die!”

“I was under the impression you didn’t want to use these gifts…that you wanted the life
you
built. If you go down this path, then it’ll be harder for you to put it behind you.”

“I’m not going to let someone die,” I said. My fists were full of his jacket, holding so tightly my wrists trembled. “I can’t do that.”

“Very well,” he muttered. “We can do something about it. What can you tell me about the people? What happened?”

I opened my mouth to respond when there was a knock at the front door. I held my breath, my eyes moving to his. His expression changed so slightly I couldn’t be sure I had seen any alteration at all. His posture stiffened and he gently pushed me away. The two of us moved to the stairs and started down.

“Go ahead and answer it.” He moved to the side of the door.

I peeked to see who was there and cursed loudly, slapping my thigh. “I can’t believe this! It’s my mom again!”

“Oh…” Ian tilted his head, perplexed. “That’s…unexpected.”

“You’re telling me. Get ready. The only stop this train bothers with is kookoo station.”

Chapter Eleven
The Returning

More advice from Abigail Wright: Never tempt fate by crossing the street against the light, make sure your friends know you’re going away
before
leaving the state, and always smile when you’re getting a traffic ticket. It may not get you out of having to pay, but at least you were pleasant about it. Right?

—Abby’s Facebook

My mother stepped inside, still dressed in the ridiculous suit and fur from our first encounter. I wondered if this was her new look for
night-time visits to estranged daughter
. It was like her to create a theme to her outfits and keep them up long after they had gone out of style.

The problem was I doubted she had ever
been
in style.

“What the hell, Mother?” I asked, slamming the door. “I thought we had left our conversation with
me
calling
you
and by that I mean we were never going to talk again.”

“Don’t be an idiot, dear,” Mother replied. “I remembered what it was your father wanted me to give you.”

“Really, do tell.”

She hesitated as she saw Ian, looking him up and down. “Hm, you’re rather handsome. What’s your name?”

Ian cleared his throat, but did not respond. He turned his attention to me.

“He’s none of your business, Mother.”

“This is not the man you had when I visited,” she said. “How many do you need, honey? Are you that much of a wanton you can’t be satisfied with one man?”

“That’s like King Kong pausing during his rampage to ask someone where to buy a monkey suit. Are you kidding me, Mother? You slept with so many people, it’s a miracle you have a clue who my father is!”

“No need to be crass, honey.” She walked into my kitchen. “I see it’s at least clean this time.”