Authors: Karice Bolton
Beyond Control
Awakening Excerpt (Watchers Trilogy)
Lonely Souls Excerpt (Witch Avenue Series)
For Anne and Julie
And to my incredible husband and mom!
The room was silent except for the low hum of my mom’s stereo. Music was important to her, and she wanted to ensure that “melodies carried her out of this world” when the time was right. For months I didn’t understand what she meant. But as I watched her lying on the bed, her frail body barely able to bring itself to breathe, I fully understood. Pillows propped her head up and colorful comforters surrounded her, but the tiny outline of my mom’s body was visible purely because it was so small in contrast to what encircled her. Her skin was a curious shade of orange from all the cancer drugs that had pumped through her. She used to joke about her spray tan “gone bad”, but she no longer could muster the strength. That mom was gone.
The taupe walls and pine furniture in my mom’s bedroom were etched in my memory. No matter where I was, my mind would forever be able to recall the feel of the wood under my fingertips. I nervously ran my hands along the end tables, day after day, waiting for her to tell me everything was going to be okay. She never did. She wouldn’t ever lie to us.
My mom refused to let us close her bedroom windows, no matter how cold the room got. After a few weeks, I understood why she wouldn’t allow us to shut the windows. The aroma of wood smoke as it drifted in covered up the medicinal smell that we’d come to ignore. My brother, Aaron, would bring us cup after cup of hot chocolate to keep us warm. That memory—that taste—would never go away either.
My mom had been through so much, fought for so long, that those memories had replaced most of the others in my short twelve years. If I dug really hard, I could think about different times—happy times, when my mom was disease free. I remember trips to the local aquarium, parks, and arboretums. My brother and I wandered around and amused ourselves, while she took photographs to paint from. For some reason, those memories made me ache more than the recent ones. It reminded me of what I’d missed. What I would be missing.
My eyes fell on the port in my mom’s chest, the tunnel under her skin that was used endlessly to deliver ineffective drugs when faced with such a disease. When she first got the port inserted, my knees used to threaten to buckle if I glimpsed a piece of it under her clothing. That didn’t happen any longer. In fact, now I was also able to help administer the drugs through the catheter that inserted into the port without the slightest thought.
I glanced at my brother, Aaron, who was lighting my mom’s favorite seafoam candles, and wondered what we’d do once she was gone. Would we be able to survive? Would we still function like a family? Once my mom became ill, my father wasn’t around much. He buried himself in work and traveled the world rather than stay here with us, with his wife. I wanted to be mad at him, but part of me understood. It was hard being here everyday, watching someone I loved deteriorate, and there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I wasn’t angry with him, but maybe I should’ve been.
Aaron turned around and flicked his wrist to extinguish the flame on the tip of the match, his eyes meeting mine. They were filled with the same sorrow I felt.
“You okay?” he mouthed from across the room, pressing his hand against his chest.
I looked at my mom, whose chest scarcely moved, and back at him before I felt the first of many tears glide down my cheeks.
No. I wasn’t okay, but at least I had him to get me through what was about to come.
“Knock. Knock,” Brandy hummed, tapping on the door lightly. “You ready?”
“Not really,” I replied, pointing at the stack of papers piled on my desk. “But I guess that probably doesn’t matter.” I smiled and pushed myself away from the desk.
“Not when it comes to your father.” She grinned. Brandy stepped into my office, and I gasped when I saw her. She was in the most gorgeous blue dress, and her dark brown hair was piled in loose curls on top of her head. With every movement, her dress shimmered and clung to all the right places, highlighting the beautiful caramel color of her skin.
“Whoa,” I said, grinning, suddenly feeling completely underdressed for tonight’s function. I looked down at my silver blouse, black pencil skirt, and red stilettos. I was proud of myself for wearing what I thought was a day-to-evening outfit like I always saw in the style magazines… and then Brandy steps into my office, blowing my wishful thinking to smithereens. It must be wonderful to always be so stunning.
“Your assistant cleans up nicely, huh?” she teased. Brandy was my best friend, who I’d met in college, and she knew me better than anyone.
“Your father figured this would happen,” she laughed. “So he sent something over. A courier brought it about an hour ago. I didn’t even peek.”
“You mean my
stepmom
knew this would happen,” I laughed.
“Same difference.”
I blew the stray hairs out of my face and couldn’t help but smile as I thought about my father. He always took such good care of me, especially since my mother’s death. Actually, that wasn’t completely true. His money always took very good care of me. I only saw him more now because I worked for one of his companies.
“Okay, let’s see it,” I sighed.
“Don’t even pretend you don’t want to play dress up.” She left my office and returned in a heartbeat with a garment bag and a Nordstrom sack dangling around the hanger.
“I honestly didn’t know it was such a big deal,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear.
“That’s what black-tie means, dummy.” Brandy extended the garment bag toward me and gave an exasperated huff.
I peered nervously through the glass wall that looked over the sea of cubicles. This wasn’t something I wanted the rest of the employees to see. I’d already caught the animosity in the air about the fact that I worked here and didn’t have to start at the bottom. Brandy saw my apprehension and quickly closed the door and shut the automatic blinds.
“It’s not like I got an invitation. I’m his daughter. I just show up,” I replied, unzipping the garment bag to reveal a beautiful flowing chiffon dress. The fabric was soft lavender with tiny pearls stitched at the waistband, and beautiful lace appliques spreading from the hem up the skirt of the dress.
“I wanna see,” Brandy whined.
“It’s amazing and so… me,” I replied, grabbing the hanger from Brandy so she could take a look.
I loved Brandy’s dress on her, but it was so not me. Why? Because it was really tiny! One false move and nothing’s left to the imagination, but that was exactly how she liked it. I, on the other hand, built a world that kept ‘em guessing. That was my motto.
“Suddenly I’m no longer the belle of the ball,” she laughed. “Holy. Shit. Is this Valentino?”
I shrugged and felt the familiar heat run up my face. My fingers instinctively ran up the scar along my breastbone as I eyed the neckline. There was no hiding it in this dress.
“Nobody will care what’s being auctioned off tonight. They’ll all want you,” she gushed, noticing where my hand stalled. I could always count on her to make me feel better.
“Oh, please. This covers me all the way up. You’ll definitely be the one who everyone’s looking at,” I assured her.
“Doubtful,” she whispered, running her fingertips along the dress. “Let’s get you in this. We’re running late.”
I laid the garment bag across my desk, careful not to knock any of the papers onto the floor, and worked the dress cautiously out of the bag. Brandy unhooked the shoe bag and opened the box up.
“Of course, Jimmy Choo,” she said, dangling the lace pumps from her fingertips.
I glanced at the shoes, and I’d be lying if I didn’t admit just how pretty they were. But it was uncomfortable. I’d made it all through college without anyone really knowing about my family’s wealth.
“You like them? You can have them after tonight,” I replied.
Brandy looked over at me and smiled, shaking her head. “Nope. They’re yours and I’m not going to accept them. Never have taken your icky hand-me-downs and never will.” She laughed and began unhooking the straps on the Choos.