Vivid Lies (10 page)

I finally come down and Kane collapses on top of me, shifting slightly so I can breathe. Our panting fills the room, and I realize the music must have stopped some time ago. We lie on the pile of wood that was once a table. The bottle of Fireball is beside my head, spilled and soaking into the carpet.
 

We were like a storm, ripping through and tearing everything up in the process. Now, as the clouds recede and the thunder fades into the darkness, the world goes quiet again.
 

Our breathing evens and our pounding hearts slow.
 

It was a messed up collision of broken parts, pain, and pleasure. I expected nothing less.
 

London

I can feel the heat from the flames on my skin. The screams echo in the house and in my head. I fight the smoke and haze, begging to wake or escape. My lungs burn with the need to breathe. Fire and smoke close in on me.
 

My head is pounding when I finally force my eyes open. I'm panting and covered in sweat as the relief washes over me, like a bucket of water. My stomach is in knots and I swallow the nausea. Rolling until I fall on the floor, the impact knocks the wind out of me. I welcome the cool feeling of the wood floor.

I came home last night to a quiet apartment. I was glad Brooklyn was in bed or out. I just wanted to wallow in self-pity alone. Grabbing a bottle of wine, I sat on the fire escape, drinking the entire thing alone. I wanted to feel numb and sleep a night without dreaming of fire again.

Forcing myself to sit up, I peel my eyes open. Crawling on the hard floor, I drag myself into the shower and turn on the water. When I finally feel well enough to stand, I wash quickly. There is not nearly enough energy to care about my makeup or hair today.
 

I want nothing more than to stay in bed all day. I'm sure my sister will, but I can't do that. I have a whole list of places I need to scout today for upcoming photo shoots. The distraction is exactly what I need right now. My hands itch and shake to get my camera. It's my one escape, where I am invisible and chose what my mind sees. I can pick the images that take over my mind.
 

Rushing through the apartment, I grab my camera bag and phone after leaving a note to Brooklyn. My hands are shaking and my mind is racing. I feel like how my dad would look when he hadn't had a drink yet. I'm craving for my own kind of escape.

I almost run down the hall and hit the button for the elevator, digging my keys out of my bag.
 

"Shit," I whisper when the doors open. I completely forgot I got a ride last night.

I glance back down the hall and swear again. I can't call Miles. I'm not ready to face him yet. Until I get paid for my last shoot, I can't afford another cab ride. I have only one other option, if he's home that is.
 

Amazed at how unprepared and unorganized I am today, I head back down the hall toward Kane's apartment. When I get there, the door is already open a few inches. I push it open and take in the familiar scene in front of me.
 

What might have been a table is broken in the center of the room. It looks like someone already broke in until I notice the evidence of a party. Cans and a few empty bottles lie on the floor. The smell of liquor and smoke wafts from inside. There's a body, face down, in the center of the room. I start to panic then I recognize the dark hair and side profile.

"Kane?" I whisper, not wanting to freak him out. "You okay?"

He mumbles something and I step inside, closing the door behind me. That seems to wake him.
 

"What the fuck?" Kane slurs and scrambles to sit up. "Huh?"

His eyes are bloodshot, his lips are swollen, wearing only a pair of jeans that are unbuttoned. There are bite marks on his shoulders and scratches down his back. I look around again, but he's alone, so I wonder who put the marks there.
 

"Your door was open," I tell him.
 

He rubs his face roughly and glares at me for a long moment.
 

"What are you doing here, London?"
 

"Closing your door." I look down at my hands. "And asking for a favor."

His eyes cloud over as he stares at me expectantly.

"Never mind. I can see you're busy."

I start to leave but Kane calls me back.

"I left my car at a bar last night and was hoping you could give me a ride."

Kane nods, pulls himself to his feet and disappears down the short hall. Soon, I hear the shower start and a door close.
 

His apartment is identical to ours, but backwards. The kitchen is on my right instead of the left. The counters are a dingy blue, instead of our green. This place is darker, the sun coming from our side of the building. A small leather sofa faces an expensive TV and a broken coffee table sits in between.
 

I wander into his kitchen and check the fridge. It's just as bare as ours. Dirty dishes are piled in the sink and my skin starts to crawl. Unable to help myself, I quickly load the dishes in the ancient dishwasher. It only takes a minute to wipe down the counters. I can't stand the memories walking in here brings up.
 

I grab a garbage can from the pantry and clean up the empty beer cans and bottles all over the floor. I grab Kane's shirt that is thrown over the TV and an empty pizza box off the couch. A red pair of flip flops are buried under the table remains. I instantly recognize them since I was the one who glued the rose charms on the straps.

My stomach clenches when I realize Brooklyn was here last night. She left those marks all over his body. I think about just leaving while he's in the shower. If he's involved with my sister, then I need to stay away.
 

"Are you actually cleaning?" I hear behind me.

I spin around, feeling guilty and embarrassed.
 

"Um. Yeah."

"You don't need to do that." He comes over and takes the garbage can from me. He smells like soap and cinnamon.
 

"I couldn't help it. Sorry." The smell and the sight was too familiar. The old me kicked in, erasing the ugly scene like I had dozens of times before.
 

Kane tilts his head as he looks down at me like he's trying to figure me out. I don't like all his attention on me.
 

"I should go," I say way too loud. I need out of this apartment. Now.
 

Images of Kane and Brooklyn are filling my head, making my already sensitive stomach uneasy.

"Why?" he asks.
 

I hold up the flip flops as an answer. A look that almost resembles regret flashes across his face.
 

"We can be friends, right?"

"I don't like being in the middle."
 

"Nothing to be in the middle of. I'm taking you. You have a shoot today?" Kane asks as he hands me my camera bag.
 

Kane is already pushing me out the open door. I have few options, so I don't resist.
 

"Not today. Just scouting some new locations. I'm not from around here, so I need to do some exploring."

Kane leads me out of the apartment, locking up behind us. I opt for the stairs. Being confined in that tiny box is the last thing I want right now.
 

"What's bothering you?" Kane asks as we cross the lobby.
 

"Nothing," I lie.
 

"I'll believe that when that angry V between your eyes fades. You're much prettier when you smile."

I ignore him. I'm pretty because I look like Brooklyn, and I don't owe him an explanation. That would mean I would need to identify what is really bothering me first. I feel like I shouldn't be with Kane right now, but feel like I have the right to be as well.
 

In the garage, we come to a stop in front of motorcycle. It's painted a flat black with all chrome parts. It screams danger and speed. Kane takes a helmet and hands it to me.
 

"Where's your car?" I ask, taking the helmet and staring at the bike.
 

"This is better. Scared?" The corner of his lips turn up in a mocking smirk.
 

"Yeah," I say honestly. "I've never been on one before. I don't want to be, either."

"How do you know you don't want to if you never have before?"

"I just do. There are four wheels for a reason. Even horses, the first method of transportation, have four legs."

Kane laughs and forces the helmet over my head anyway. I fight his hands as he does the buckle under my chin but he keeps smacking away my attempts.

"Seriously, I don't want to."

"No. You're scared but that has nothing to do with what you want to do. Live a little, London."

I actually snarl at him but he ignores me. I'm sick of being told to "lighten up" or "live a little." I swear I'm always being told to be more like my sister. Maybe she should be more like me.
 

I don't want to always be the boring one.
 

Kane mounts the bike and watches me patiently. When I continue to stand frozen, he offers his hand. After a mental pep talk, I take his hand. He holds mine while I throw my leg over and sit on the seat.
 

"Hold on. Lean with me when I lean," Kane tells me.
 

He turns the key and a loud rumble echoes in the garage. It's loud and I feel it moving through my whole body. Kane puts up the kick stand and my heart rate skyrockets. I wrap my arms around his waist and squeeze. After a light tap to my white knuckles, we are off.
 

There's something terrifying about being so exposed to the road and cars around you. Everything feels bigger and closer when you are not surrounded by four sides of metal. I feel so vulnerable, but I feel free with the wind and sun on my face. It's so scary, it's exciting.

Soon, we are on roads I don't recognize. I squeeze Kane's leg to get his attention since I now realize that he never even asked where my car was. His large hand covers mine but he doesn’t slow or acknowledge that I have something to say. Even screaming, he wouldn't hear me with all the wind and my helmet. He lets go and I watch the scenery flash by, waiting for a chance to talk to him.

Growing up in Tennessee, we didn't see much of the ocean or palm trees. I'm captivated by the blues of the water. It's calming and soothing, easing the shaking of my hands and the racing of my mind. When the bike goes over a long bridge, I cling tighter to Kane. I feel so small and light over the water without the metal walls to protect me.
 

Soon, we are riding down a wide road that looks long forgotten. We pull into in large and deserted parking lot and Kane kills the engine. I climb off the bike, still feeling the vibration in my body. Kane follows, helping me with my helmet. His fingers lightly brush my throat as he loosens the strap. My eyes dart to his, but he seems unaware.
 

"How was it? You lived I see, even with just two wheels."

"It was fine," I say as I fix my hair and look around.
 

"Fine? You know how to bruise a guy's ego."

"It's was terrifying, honestly."

"But you loved it," Kane says, his voice dropping lower. His dark eyes are on me, demanding the truth with their direct intensity.

"Yes. But this isn't where my car is. What is this place?"

I look around at the massive concrete building. It's definitely abandoned, but not forgotten. There are weeds growing in the cracks of the concrete, but the walls are covered in graffiti.
 

"It used to be a marine stadium but shut down after a hurricane. Come on, I'll show you."

Kane starts walking to the chained gates, and I hurry after him.
 

"Are we allowed in here?" I ask as he pulls the gate open enough for me to slip through.
 

"It's discouraged."

Kane takes my camera bag and gestures for me to go through the gap. My heart is pounding as I look around for any witnesses. It's broad daylight and I'm breaking and entering. Or is it just entering? Kane follows after me and leads me up a ramp and up some cement steps. The walls are covered in graffiti along the way.
 

"Discouraged?"

"It's discouraged, but as you can see, we aren't the first ones to get in here."

We pass cement pillars, all entirely covered in colorful graffiti. Every surface of the place seems to be covered in art. We come out at the bottom of the stadium, looking up at hundreds of stadium seats facing the open water of the ocean. I gasp when I take in the size and the view.
 

"It's amazing," I breathe.
 

Every seat has been tagged. Row after row of metal seats are covered in color and words. The thick stone pillars that hold up a massive canopy are also covered in spray paint. Art has been painted over art. I walk in a trance, running my fingers over the railings, thick with paint.