Page 6 of Shadow Man

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The journeyto the private aircraft passes in silence. Dante is tapping out a thesis to his wife, Eve, on his phone, while my own reflections are loud enough to fill the SUV.

I’m thinking about life, and how freely I take it.

I’m thinking about loss, and how freely I grant it.

Reversing time is another currency I’d spend with the same impunity if I could.To see all those I couldn't save…To speak words I couldn’t say.

I drag my mind back to the first time I saw her: warm night. Busy nightclub. Crowded sidewalk.

I watched her unseen from the darkness: wicked jade eyes and a red dress that weaved her killer curves into an enticing trap.A woman with so much life and energy about her, I’d wanted to tap that pussy and drink my fill.

One glimpse was enough to have my dick in flames.

One glimpse was enough to have me making her a promise. It’s one I’ll keep for the both of us until she learns to stop hating and dares enough to believe.

Nothing about us is simple.Nothing is straightforward.Its unrequited and unspoken, but it’s also chronic and pervasive, cementing our cracks with something other than hate.

My cellphone chimes. I check the message, erupt with a curse, and it’s enough to catch Dante’s attention.

“What is it?”

“I’m not going back to the island. I’ll drop you off and take the car.” I hand him my cell and watch him scan the message.

I know he won't stop me. Dante doesn't feel guilt, but he likes to swipe his bloody finger through mine every so often.

And there is so much guilt to feel overher.

3

Anna

“Come on, baby… You gonna take the hit, or what?”

I drop my face to the glass table like a good girl.Or am I a bad girl now?Whatever. The lines are so blurred these days, even I can't tell the difference.

The rolled up twenty grazes my nose as I slip and slide toward this new peccadillo like a foal on ice. The only alternative is a black hole where my life used to me. Rehab can’t reach me, I lost both my jobs after the no-shows, Mom’s dead, and my best friend, Eve, seems lost to her own devil these days.

When I discharged myself from Greens, there was only one destination: Another night in another club, of which the name escapes me.

I’m back in South Beach. I know that much. The rest isn’t worth remembering, not even a description of Mr. Faceless who just sold me a couple of grams of shut-the-hell-up-world. Tonight, I needed a new vice, and I didn’t have to look too deep inside myself to find one.

Cocaine.

For years, my shadow dealt it.

For years, he protected it.

And now here I am, on my knees and about to worship it.

“Come on, baby,” urges Faceless. “I wanna hit too.”

He’s such a sleaze—goading and slavering.Over me, or the coke?He’s the type of guy I would’ve sidestepped a year ago. And now? He’s just another plug to stop the deadness from pouring out of me.

Black hair. Black eyes. What was his name again?I don't even care.

My decision made, I snort fast—shooting sparks and fireworks into my skull. The twenty drops from my fingers, and I let out a moan as my head hits the back of the couch; legs splayed out like a debutante’s worst nightmare, inviting everyone.Inviting none.