The Girl With Aquamarine Eyes (19 page)

“You’re a runaway?”

“I have run from nothing.”

“What is your name? I’m Tommy.”

She smiled at him, pulling the leaves from her hair. “I’m
Heaven.”

“Look, Heaven, I need to get home. I’m tired, and in case
you haven’t noticed, I smell like a pizza. Tell me where you want to go, I’ll
try my best to get you there.”

Heaven gazed at the handsome boy. He was tall and thin, his
eyes glowed the brightest green she’d ever seen. His caramel-colored hair was
rich and full, falling into wispy curls across his shoulders. Thick, succulent
eyelashes gazed through the moonlight at her. He had the aura of a fine
gentleman, the kind her mother used to tell her about. He would do great things
in the future.

But a darkness lurked around him. He’d suffered a loss. And,
he was dealing with rejection. If that wasn’t enough, he carried more on his
young plate than any boy his age should have to handle. It showed in his eyes.
She could read it in his very heart and soul.

Now she was in a predicament. Fact was, she never thought
about where she’d go once she left estate. She planned on finding Dreams. They’d
stow away again, and find another island to live in peace on.

That would be hard to do with her ankle injured. Yet, she
knew by morning it would be well. She could lay here all night, waiting on it
to heal and risk being found by Harmon or Bice. No, she couldn’t wait in the
woods. She must get away quickly.

She gazed at the handsome boy. “Please, take me to wherever
it is you might travel to, as I have no place to go until my ankle heals. I
shall be content to sleep under a palm in your yard, with the wind of the seven
seas to my back.”

Tommy’s heart skipped a beat. He swallowed backwards, and
fought the urge to shove a finger down his throat and pull his tongue back into
place. He surely gulped it down. The girl wanted to go home with him. Very few
females glanced his way, but none ever uttered a word to him. Ben would never
belive this. Not in a million, zillion years. A beautiful goddess asleep under
a tree in his front yard.

By sunrise, the football jocks would filter downhill from
the party of the year. There would surely be a wrecked tangle of gleaming
steel, twisted Porsches and battered Hummers piled one atop the other at his
curb. Drool would be sneaking from the corners of the athlete’s lips, as they
stared from the wreckage at the sleeping beauty under the pines.

“I can’t let you sleep in my yard.” He chuckled. “Look, my dad
is at a physician’s convention, he won’t be home until morning. You’re welcome
to come back to my place until we can figure out what to do.”

Heaven gazed at Harmon’s magnificent house in the distance.
Luckily, all seemed quiet. They hopefully hadn’t noticed she was missing. At
any moment though, the security lights which encircled the estate might snap
on.

She gazed at the handsome teenager and smiled. “Let’s go.”

Hesitatingly, Tommy gently lifted her from the forest floor.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, and grimaced in pain. He couldn’t belive
this was happening. He must be dreaming. He’d wake in the morning, rush
downstairs and gaze at the empty couch. Yes, it must be a dream.

But, he felt her head as she laid it on his heart. Her
golden hair fell down her back, and brushed his wrists. He brushed away the
last few leaves that were still intertwined within her endless curls.

He knew already, he didn’t want to see her go. He didn’t
want morning to ever come. He’d drive home, grab his dad’s dusty camping
supplies and together they’d make a mad dash for the hills where they could
live in peace and solitude. Whatever it was she was running from, he’d run with
her.

He quickly shook the thought away, realizing he’d have to be
back in school on Monday. It was hopeless.

“Here you go.” He sighed, as he laid her across the back
seat. “We should be to my place in a few minutes. I’m sure the engine has
cooled off by now.”

He slid into the drivers seat, and turned the key. The
engine roared to life, as if it’d never fallen ill. He smiled for the first
time in many months, as he carefully navigated the winding canyon roads toward
his father’s lonely estate.

* * *

Bice stretched and yawned, as a stray sliver of morning sun
filtered through the heavy curtains.

No matter how he tried, he’d never mastered the fine art of
closing the drapes in a fashion which would block any trace of annoying morning
light. He loathed the fiery orb in the sky waking him each day.

Before he could come fully awake, the sound of shattering glass
filled the crisp air. He yanked the covers from his legs, and bit his lip in
sickening expectation. The termites must have come.

Finally satisfied his legs were intact, he eased himself up.
Another crash filled the air as he swung his legs over the bedside. He gazed
around, seeking out the source of the noise.

The lone ray of annoying sunlight glinted off multiple
broken beer bottles. They littered the floor, forming a crescent around the
foot of his bed. He’d knocked the last one from beneath the sheets. The acrid
aroma of warm beer permeated the fresh morning air.

He hung his head in sorrow, truly shameful of the horrific
waste. He could only hope Harmon didn’t walk in at this very moment. But on the
other hand, he was damned proud of himself for resisting the temptation. A
smile crinkled around his lips as he stared at the mess.

It was Heaven’s fault. It wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t
rudely stomped his foot in a moment of teenage madness the night before.

No, it wasn’t her fault, he wasn’t that kind of person. He’d
take full responsibility for the mess on the floor. He lifted the phone and
rang Bonita. The way things were going lately, the weary maid might as well
take a suite across from his.

Realization swept across him, as he remembered standing
Heaven up for their walk. It wasn’t like him not to keep his word. Perhaps a
week’s worth of frustration at the strange happenings which were occurring in
the mansion, had taken their toll on him.

Harmon was his friend, and his employer. He wouldn’t let him
down. Soon, they would tour again and all of this would be forgotten the moment
the girl down the hall turned eighteen. Harmon would rent her a nice flat of
her own on that glorious day, he’d make sure of it.

He threw his clothes on, and rushed out the door toward her
room. He hoped she’d accept his apology. He was only human, and sincerely
regretted breaking his promise to her. When he was in Philly battling the
monster he had become, he too had no one.

His family had long since deserted him. He hadn’t spoken to
them in years. Rather, they’d refused to speak to him. He’d learned the hard
way when you push someone away in a moment of incoherence, that person you
loved may stay away forever. He’d made a terrible mistake in Philly. A mistake
that had changed his life.

Brushing the thought aside, he realized he would have to be
there for Heaven, no matter what. He’d almost conquered his battle with
alcohol. Every now and then, the demon tried to slip up on him during his
weakest moments. It was a burden he had to carry, and it would be a fight each
day for the rest of his life not to reach for the bottle. Because one always
led to another, and another.

He could not hide his past any longer. He’d explain it to
Heaven. Harmon was the only one who knew the terrible mistake he’d made so many
years ago. Maybe she’d understand him a little better if he opened up a bit.

He’d offer no excuses. He could only tell her the truth.
Last night, he almost blew it and nearly drank the entire six-pack of beer. He’d
even pondered calling Bonita to bring up more.

After he spoke with Heaven, he would call his mother. He
missed her every day, and longed to hear her voice. He knew she’d never forgive
him. He wouldn’t say anything, but settle for listening to her breathe a moment
or two.

Then, he’d hang up.

* * *

Hawk pulled the dark limosuine into a slot in front of the grayed
brick building.

The bodyguard gazed around the grounds. A few teenage girls
were playing badmittion in a far corner. Their somber plaid uniforms barely
stood out against the aged building. Nuns in black robes dotted the browned
lawn. One looked in his direction and quickly glanced away.

A dark, lonely feeling overtook him. An orphanage was the
last place he expected to bodyguard Harmon at. But the man was a well-known
musician, at least in other countries, and needed protection. Stateside
security was mostly from the media. The relentless reporters always managed to
find a way to broadcast the musician’s private life across the airwaves for the
country to scoff at.

Harmon wouldn’t be happy if the media spotted him going into
a place such as this. The rumors which would abound would haunt him for months.
Now here he was, hoping to whisk the singer inside as quickly as possible and
out even more quickly. He certainly didn’t want to miss wrestling this
afternoon.

He gazed into the rearview mirror. No cars or news vans were
coming into the gate behind them. He was proud. He’d driven the twenty-five
miles without being spotted.

Of course, Los Angeles was peppered with fancy cars and dark
Limos. The media knew to follow them all. No matter how darkly tinted the
windows might be, the inhabitant would have to make an exit sooner or later.
The reporter would be there waiting like a hissing snake in the grass.

His eyes fell to Harmon in the back seat. The singer hadn’t
even noticed the car was no longer in motion. He was buried in page after page
of lyrics, haistly penning word after word onto a crumbled paper. Obviously,
the man had been inspired by something. Or he’d gone mad.

He dropped his darkened glasses to the tip of his nose, and
pressed the button near his hand. The glass barrier silently slipped down
behind him. Again, Harmon didn’t cock an eyebrow. He was oblivious to
everything which surrounded him.

“We’re here.” Hawk stared into the mirror. “Are you sure you
want to do this?”

Harmon gazed at Hawk’s reflection. The man rarely spoke. The
handful of words the braided and leather clad man had uttered might very well
be a record. Or an omen.

Nonetheless, he trusted Hawk with his life. He loved the big
brute. Hawk was his family now, with his sister gone and his mother traveling
abroad. Hawk and Bice and Bonita. And now Heaven, and maybe Dreams if she’d
even come.

Maybe he had an illustrious image somewhere in his troubled
mind, of building his own family. One block at a time. They’d all sit at the
table in the evenings as the sun settled into the sea, and chat as if they’d
had a past together. As if they’d known each other for eternity.

He gazed at his lyrics. Page after page he’d written during
the drive. He recalled how the majestic window in Heaven’s suite somehow put
itself back together. He’d gone into the suite repeatedly that night to study
it. To find some reasonable explanation. But there was none. He knew he’d find
no answers before he even turned the doorknob. A sepia fog of yesterday seemed
to envelop him the moment he stepped into her room. As if he’d stepped back in
time.

He’d next gone to the kitchen and studied the vases again.
Afterwards, the coins with her image on them were turned over and over in his
sweaty hands. As she slept, he’d studied her legs.

The crippled teenager stood and walked only a week after her
legs were crushed. Every fiber in his being denied the logic. Because, there
was none. What his eyes could clearly see, his mind rose up and clashed
against. His inner turmoil would triumph if he didn’t find an outlet. He couldn’t
tell Hawk what he’d seen. Bice himself seemed to dismiss it all as an uncanny
coincidence.

He must write. He had to write. Maybe Hawk would go in for
him and fetch Dreams. His mind was on full-tilt pinball overload. Silvered
bells dinged as the titanium ball darted behind the neon glass. Reflected back
shone the face of a madman. A sliver of sweat rolled from his brow, and dropped
to the lyrics he clutched. He hastily wiped it away and shook the paper
violently, as if it’d been hit by a flaming meteor from the blackest depths of
space.

“Bice?” Harmon whispered. “Where is Bice?” He never went
anywhere without Bice.

Hawk gave him a quizzical look in the mirror. Finally, he
turned around in the seat and stared at him. The leather he wore rustled and
crackled beneath him.

“Don’t you remember? You said to let him sleep.”

“Where is Heaven?”

“In bed.” Hawk groaned. “Harmon, what’s gotten into you? You
look like you’ve seen the other side of hell.”

Harmon ignored him. He couldn’t tell the man that yes, he in
fact had seen the other side of hell. That something very disturbing was
growing within the walls of the estate, as a fungus might grow on a rotted tree
downed in a storm.

It was slowly overtaking all reason and leaving behind a
dream-like haze for anyone who dared cross the threshold into the mansion’s
darkened corridors. He reached into his pocket, and pulled out the picture of his
sister. He’d woke early and headed down to his study. He expected the damage to
be fairly severe from shooting the wall.

When he’d opened the door and drew the shades against the
blinding sunlight, he tried to take in once again what his eyes could see, but
his mind refused to absorb.

Rose’s picture lay neatly on his desk. But it was different
this time. Time itself had paid homage to the ruined photo as he slept.

The silver pinball bounced to the sound of blasting music.
He pounded the flippers on each side of the table as he gazed at the photo. The
shining orb tipped off the paddle, spun helplessly against the gravity that
reeled it in and rolled into the bottomless pit. A million more pin balls lie
waiting for it. Finally, it rolled up alongside his sanity.