Drained: The Lucid (2 page)

She tossed on a shirt that didn’t appear too wrinkled and yanked on her jeans before snatching her phone from the nightstand. With wet hair and a bare face, she grabbed her bag and dashed to her car. Makeup could be done in traffic. She had spent enough time during the night getting ready for multiple people. Her friends didn’t need that same attention to detail.

• • •

Riley navigated her way through the small but crowded café in the direction of the table she and her colleagues habitually frequented. It was the kind of restaurant where the regular patrons became annoyed if the local newspaper discovered its charms and gave the place free advertising. It was understaffed, the food overpriced, and the menu didn’t stand out as being overly original. Riley couldn’t understand why she and her friends continued to support the Los Angeles hangout. Maybe the outdoor seating that would fit a party of six had something to do with their loyalties.

Narrowly avoiding a busboy, Riley slid into an open seat at a large circular table in the far corner of the front patio. Her seated friends flashed her warm smiles of greeting. The group was generally much happier when they got their table. It was the perfect spot. It gave them enough privacy from most the other customers, and it had a great view of the street. People watching was always fun in an active town like LA, especially with a group as well-humored as theirs.

Her friend James caught the attention of a nearby waitress. “Excuse me, Miss. Could we please get this hard-working young lady some scrambled eggs and toast?”

The frazzled attendant blew a few errant strands of wavy hair out of her flushed face. “No problem.” She leaned toward Riley. “Would you like some coffee while you wait?”

Riley nodded at the fresh-faced, but rather overwhelmed, server and rewarded her thoroughness with a smile. The waitress poured her a cup of steaming dark coffee and returned the gesture.

Her stare lingered on Riley’s light green eyes, which seemed to make her momentarily forget the exhaustion of the late breakfast rush. “I’ll be right back with your food.”

“Thanks.” Riley’s own smile remained on her lips.

The server ducked her head and disappeared back into the din of the café, presumably in the direction of the back kitchen.

A rather sharp elbow dug into Riley’s ribcage. “Don’t smile too much,” Heather, the dark-haired, brown-eyed woman, warned. Seated next to Riley, she hummed playfully. If Heather’s warning had been serious, the entire group would be able to tell, but her devious grin said otherwise. “Your lady might get jealous.” The cautionary brunette nodded her head in the direction of another waitress across the patio.

Riley scanned over the crowded space and spotted her girlfriend in the corner of the café. Her natural red hair glowed under the morning sun. Riley could only smile at her girlfriend’s obliviousness to her presence as she was busy with a table of rowdy customers. The group looked like a bar crowd who had simply failed to go to sleep the previous night. They laughed a little too loudly, even for the outside seating, and the way they tossed balled up napkins and straw wrappers at each other showed a complete disregard for propriety. Riley had an impulse to swoop in and save her girlfriend from the obnoxious co-eds, but she knew that Amber was well equipped to handle even the most disagreeable patron.

Riley pulled her attention away from Amber long enough to chastise her friend. “I could have ordered for myself, James,” she complained good-naturedly.

He smiled, flashing a perfect set of teeth. “I know you’re entirely capable, but you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Heather passed her friend the creamer and sugar. “Long night, sweetie?”

Riley nodded and sighed. She tilted her head and rested it on Heather’s shoulder for a brief moment.

“At least you’re closer to reaching your quota this way.” Heather kissed the top of her friend’s head. She patted Riley’s face in sympathy before she pulled away.  

“I wish,” Riley said. “You know what my numbers are like.” She dumped a surplus of white sugar into her coffee. No matter how many mornings she and her friends ate at the small café, she couldn’t get used to the poor quality coffee. It was almost ironic; for a business that was supposed to specialize in coffee, the resulting product tasted like they’d strained it with a dirty sweatsock instead of a proper paper filter.  

“Our little overachiever,” Seven, the fourth member of their group, teased. “Stop it,” he reprimanded. “You’re making us look bad.”

Near the front of the café came the sound of plates clanking and a glass dish shattering. The loud disturbance caught the attention of the entire patio space. It was enough of a ruckus that the friends looked in the direction of the commotion to see their fifth colleague, Madison, making an entrance.

“Sorry. I’ll pay for that.” Madison, a tall blonde with a penchant for large hats and over-the-top accessories, wiggled her way through the crowded space, her oversized purse hitting chairs, tables, and the backs of other patrons’ heads.

“Excuse me,” she announced. “Excuse me.” The blended ice coffee in one hand precariously sloshed around inside its travel cup, threatening to spill out on the innocent customers.

Madison paused her grand entrance at a table occupied by a younger couple. “Why
hello
there, cutie,” she purred at the seated man.

From their nearby table, Heather chuckled. “Here comes trouble,” she murmured lowly.

“Excuse me,” the woman voiced. “That’s my husband.”

“Uh huh…” Madison stated, clearly not paying attention. She winked at the stunned man. “I’ll see
you
later,” she cooed.

Riley watched Madison’s antics and absentmindedly took a bite from a piece of Heather’s toast.

Upon seeing her friend at the table, Madison’s face lit up. “Riley!” she cried out, not caring who stared. “I thought you were dead!” She swooped down upon the table of close-knit friends. “Seriously, late is your time.”

Madison was at the table before Riley could react. The larger-than-life woman stooped to give her an engulfing hug. She didn’t have time to stand up to greet her friend, so Riley went in for an awkward embrace. Madison’s oversized earrings knocked her in the face and nearly became tangled in her hair. The perky woman sat down heavily in an open seat close to Riley. She threw her too-large purse on the table, nearly knocking over the salt and pepper shakers at the center.  

“Hey, Mad Hatter,” Riley greeted the animated woman. “Don’t tell me you’ve been inside waiting for that coffee this entire time.” She eyed the cup suspiciously as Madison sipped from the black straw. No beverage at the café was worth the wait. Madison stopped drinking long enough to give a nod before immediately returning the straw to her red, painted lips. Ever since Riley had met her jubilant friend decades ago, she could never contain a smile while being in her company. From her shy smirks and chuckles, to her antics that had them falling to the ground laughing as they clutched at their stomachs, Madison was a welcomed light in their group.

It wasn’t long before their waitress returned, placing a steaming plate before Riley. She was careful to thank the waitress without making eye contact this time around, opting to speak at her plate instead. She wanted to eat, rather than be mercilessly teased or have to listen to a lecture on the validity of her relationship with Amber.

After taking a few bites, Riley broke the comfortable silence that had settled amongst the group. It wasn’t that she minded the quiet, but it had been a few days since she had seen this many of her friends in the same place at the same time. Schedules were always being juggled in their line of work, especially with their employer.

Swallowing a mouthful of food, Riley looked up from her plate to speak. “So, my Mr. Ten is starting to annoy me.”

“Wait,” Madison interrupted, yanking the straw out from her mouth. The poor tube of plastic was mutilated from her chewing. “Did your last job take that long? Geesh, enjoy yourself much?” Her blue eyes bulged in disbelief.

Heather shook her head, mildly annoyed. “No, Maddie. She means her ten o’clock morning appointment. It’s why she’s always late to brunch.”

Madison seemed to have lost interest in the conversation and slurped from her iced caffeinated drink. “Oh … no fun.”

“You’re telling me,” Riley grumbled. “He’s just so random in his sleeping pattern. And I’m using the word ‘pattern’ loosely here.”

“Is he honestly that bad?” Heather quirked an eyebrow.

“No, but I hate that his REM cycle only comes after ten o’clock.” Riley sighed. “He’s a sporadic sleeper so everything is just off.”

Heather patted Riley’s hand. “You can change him out soon,” she offered sympathetically. “Right?” Riley nodded in response. She would be replacing him soon.

From across the bustling street, the loud rumbling of an exotic car could be heard as it skidded into an open parking space. Even patrons sitting inside the café could probably hear the monster of a car. The overpriced toy had effectively drowned out all their voices. Eyes rolled and mouths gawked, while some of the regulars managed to ignore the noise. The owner of the bright, yellow European sports car was Liam Dunbar. Known as the brat playboy among the members of their community, Liam’s company had come into a substantially large amount of funding about two years ago. That was when the financial corporation of Clay & Dunbar had changed for the worse. The group of incubi had become reckless in their behavior and had begun to draw too much attention to themselves. It was an unstated rule that
cubare
remain out of the limelight, but the younger of the Dunbar brothers had a talent for drawing crowds that threatened to expose them all.

Seven could only glare at the public display of debauchery. He practically snarled at the sight. It was always the same reaction when anyone from Trusics’s competing company was in their presence. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from Liam, not even to blink. The younger of the two Dunbar brothers wore vintage aviators and a tailored vest and slacks. Attached to his arms were two beautiful women, each carrying her own weight in gold earrings, necklaces, and diamond rings. Between his flirtatious remarks and the women’s unnerving need to laugh at his every word, even the most patient of patrons were beginning to twitch. Luckily for the customers seated on the front patio, Liam and his party were led to seating inside of the café.

“I reckon the bloke thinks he’s king of all incubi,” Seven said, his mouth hidden behind his cup. “He’s not even head of the company. Careless brat that—”

“You know, green isn’t your color.” Riley smiled before taking another bite of toast. She winked at her cross friend. “But if you’re jealous, you should apply at C&D.”

Seven’s face remained stoic, and his tanned jaw went rigid. The discussion of leaving their mutual employer had come up a number of times over the decades. However, none of them had ever seriously contemplated joining a different company. Their employer treated them well and provided a means to a comfortable life. But Riley knew that Seven was often jealous over the freedom the competition exhibited. It would be hard to entirely ignore the appeal of a job with fewer rules. “No, thanks. I think I’ll stay where I am.” He continued to sip from his cup, finally able to peel his eyes away from the direction of Liam and his lady friends. “Away from the limelight.”

James reached over to ruffle his friend’s bedhead hairstyle. The friendly gesture caused Seven to yank away like a cat in response to bathwater. He had to work to get his hair perfect. As he had stated time and time again, intentional messiness didn’t come without effort. After a few shoves were exchanged, both men resettled into their seats.

Riley couldn’t help but ponder their friendship. They were so different that, at times, it was hard to believe they were best friends. Physical differences aside, their personalities were worlds apart. At a surface level, James had a full head of dirty blond hair, a lean build, and wore clothes that made him look ready for a spontaneous round of golf or schmoozing at the local country club. But he was the man that little girls dreamed their Prince Charming would be. He would ride in on a white horse, in gleaming armor, flash a brilliant smile, and hearts would flutter—a true gentleman. This was the man you’d proudly introduce to your parents.

Seven, however, was not that man. An Australian native, he was the most recent addition to their intimate group. With his Chinese lineage and Aussie accent, Seven effortlessly charmed hordes of women while at clubs or bars. His short black hair was a contrast to James’s golden mane, and he had a larger build than the other men in their group, or at least it showed better through his fitted shirts and designer jeans. But Seven was a man with a wandering eye, and relationships gave him the equivalent of an allergic reaction. When it came to his sexual conquests, he was a revolving door.

“Speaking of limelight, have you guys seen the latest wave of rumors about work?” James chimed in, his eyes glued to his phone. “Rumors, rumors, rumors.”

“What’s new?” Madison rolled her eyes at the conspiracy theories that had always plagued them.

Although some of them had been succubi or incubi for far longer, everyone in the group worked for Trusics, a privately owned and funded company; a business known among their kind as a cubare run and friendly operation. Originally created as a front for their more supernatural endeavors, Trusics had turned into a legitimate business with the mission to provide what the human public demanded—dating and porn websites.

User profiles created with the intention of finding a first date or adult entertainment were culled to provide background information and preferences to be used in the realm. It provided Trusics employees with a database of millions who agreed to a realm-consenting stipulation hidden in all of the user terms and conditions.

“Well, with the blogs these days, everyone’s a journalist,” James remarked. His face soured. Having each been alive during the golden era of newspapers, they could remember the days when journalism had been a respectable field that placed personal reputations at stake; one poorly researched article could spoil an entire career.