Intrigue: The Night Muse Trilogy
By Stacey Rychener
Copyright 2011 Stacey Rychener
Smashwords Edition
Discover more about the Night Muse Trilogy at:
http://www.nightmusetrilogy.com
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Prologue
I fear the Greeks even when they bring gifts. —Virgil
My dad always said, “Wars are usually fought by the young and written in history books by the old.” So the world might not be ready for the history of a war to be written by a sixteen-year-old girl from Detroit, but my generation deserves to be recognized for the sacrifices we made. The only time society has taken a teenage girl’s thoughts seriously in times of war is the Diary of Anne Frank, and Anne died at a concentration camp at fifteen—long before her diary was ever published!
In mythology, Calliope was the most powerful Muse in the Greek Pantheon. Muses provided the entertainment kinda like modern day soap operas with some musical numbers for the Greek gods and goddesses. I am the modern day Calliope, so it makes sense that I am the one that gets to tell you the tale of the battles, betrayal, intrigue, and some sappy love stuff during the War for Detroit. I have chronicled all the behind the scenes scoops and dirt that you never see or hear about in those dry old history books, and I even included field logs from an actual Greek god!
I am writing this history in present day Detroit where the War has come to an end for now. But in the summer of 2007, I was drawn into the battle between the three most powerful Olympians in Greek Mythology—Apollo (God of Truth and Prophecy), Hermes (Messenger of the Gods and Protector of Humans), and Ares (God of Warfare and Bloodlust). And now I am giving you a front row seat to history.
Battleground
Most people think the crash of the American auto industry caused Detroit and its economy to come grinding to a halt. In the 1990’s, President Clinton gave 1.5 billion to the American auto industry (Partnership for a New Generation of Vehicles). GM, Ford, and Chrysler all created cars that got over 70 mpg (GM: 80 mpg Precept, Ford: 72 mpg Prodigy, and Chrysler: 72 mpg ESX-3). The Big 3 chose not to make the cars because only granola eating hippies would buy them. Instead, they decided to make bigger, more gas guzzling SUVs--some of which couldn’t even fit into your average garage! So Japan beat Detroit to the market, oil became expensive, and the Big 3 and Detroit started their descent into chaos.
In 2007, Detroit had over 80,000 abandoned lots and buildings that were the palaces, playgrounds, and cathedrals for its immortals. And its prey, humans, all the more accessible because these abandoned buildings had become the flame for its moths of ravers, vandals, scavengers, and urban explorers. You would think that the frontline in a war between the immortals and humans would happen in a place a lot more glamorous like Paris or vital like New York, but the chaos, gloom, and the indoor abandoned reality of Detroit was like a lodestone for these creatures…. kinda like an IMAX for immortals.
Immortal Lore
Most of what I thought I knew about immortals and vampires was learned through books and movies. So I am going to clarify some basic facts about immortals and vampyre (not vampire) before we get started.
Several books and movies actually got a few detail right like:
-Most immortals are hot and somewhat arrogant with a clique-like hierarchy.
Sometimes they got details sorta right:
-Vampyre do not need to kill to drink blood, usually they only need to take about 1 pint of blood about once a week.
Sometimes they were way off:
-Immortals and vampyre do not burn up in the sun; Their skills and entertainment are best cloaked in night so they generally like to sleep during the day, kinda like college students.
The rest of what I have learned about the immortals will be shared through my narrative, so you are just going to have to read on.
Hermes Field Log: July 2007
I have been observing my new Aegis, Calli, for over a month now, and I am still unclear as to why Apollo wants me guarding her. Her father is a fireman; she has a black belt in karate; she has only engaged a one high-risk behavior that I have observed. She attended an Urban Underground Rave that our kind sponsors, which has to be where Apollo saw her. The chaos and strife in Detroit has dramatically increased since Ares has turned the abandoned Tiger Stadium into his own personal Coliseum. The body count for the young adults of Detroit is climbing and soon Detroit’s citizens will start to take notice. As the Protector of Humans, I have done all I can to shield them, but it has not been nearly enough with Ares as ruler. Apollo is the only one strong enough to stop the human wrecking ball that Ares has become. That is why I am granting him this personal favor and the only reason a god, such as myself, would follow around a red-haired teenage Siren. Luckily, I have only had to follow her to the mall once. My duty ends at being a mall cop. My sacred duty might be to protect her, but you can be sure it’s also to find out why she’s so important to Apollo. And determine if somehow, she can further my mission to protect all humans from Ares.
Chapter 1: Tics and Rattlesnakes
August 2007
My grandma always said, “You’re more likely to get bit by a tic than a rattlesnake, Calli, so watch out.” I just nodded at her for years like I knew exactly what she was saying. I lived in Detroit, Michigan, so we really don’t have any rattlers around here. I asked her once what she meant and she said, “It’s the little things, that we are not scared of that are more likely to bite you in the ass and cause major problems down the road.” My tic bite happened on an ordinary Tuesday when the sensei of our dojo announced that we needed to welcome a new student to our karate class. He introduced him as Rafe Something-I-Didn’t-Catch because I was too busy: 1) staring at a fantabulous model of the male species and 2) letting my mouth drop open. Unfortunately, the next moment I was actually coherent, I heard my boyfriend, Thrace, remark on my drooling. I had to admit that Rafe sent my eyesight into overload, which must have disabled my hearing. He was 6 feet tall with golden brown hair, piercing hazel eyes, and even white teeth when he finally gave us a mischievous smile. He was a hottie tottie with a naughty karate body (I actually learned that one from the Urban Dictionary). It was only when Thrace not so subtly stepped on my foot that I regained my senses, and I realized that I should be starting my warm-ups.
Sensei Magisawa put us through our paces as Rafe quietly observed us, throwing in a small smile for the females in the class. As the lesson progressed, I could almost feel every time his eyes were on me. It took massive concentration to execute my kihon (basic techniques) and kata (form) with my typical precision. My sensei has always remarked that much like a chess player—I have a gift for anticipating my opponent’s attack and countering it with the perfect move(s). It helped that I run three miles every day to keep my endurance up. Also, so I could eat chocolate and drink Mt. Dew without resorting to Plan A (Anorexia) or Plan B (Bulimia).
As class let out and we executed our traditional bow to our sensei, there was a slight change from the norm because students either wanted to meet the new guy or talk about the new guy. I was stopped as I headed to the locker room by my friends who wanted to gossip over this unexpected turn of events that led us to such interesting eye candy. Jazmine (Jazz), also a junior at my school, remarked that she was going to offer to practice with Rafe; whereas Keyana (Key) believed that asking for private tutoring from Rafe might be within her budget. I noticed both girls and myself chose to talk about Rafe rather than going to meet him as we headed to the locker room.
I just smiled at their remarks as I changed in the locker room until they asked me a direct question, “So Calli, what do you think?”
I responded in my typical dry manner by saying, “I think I have a boyfriend that is pretty much going to be watching me like a hawk after my gawking today.”
We finished packing up and headed out of the locker room. There stood Thrace ready to escort me out of class. Key smirked and instead of saying goodbye remarked, “I see what you mean.”
Thrace looked perplexed and of course asked, “What was that about?” But before I could answer, Rafe approached us and announced that the sensei suggested he set up a time to spar with each of us. Both Key and Jazz looked delighted and immediately asked for the time directly after our next 2 practices. I, on the other hand, quietly asked Rafe if he could do a morning time.
He set our time for the next morning at 7am and said in a charming tone, “See you tomorrow morning Calli.” He walked away amid Jazz and Key fanning themselves while Thrace frowned at Rafe’s back as he left.
Jazz remarked, “The back view is almost as good as the front view.”
Thrace said with a slight snarl, “Respect yourself much?”
Jazz laughingly replied, “Oh, I’ll show him plenty of respect.”
Thrace just rolled his eyes and asked if I was ready to go. Jazz smirked at him and said, “Good luck with that one on the way home and have a nice practice tomorrow morning—we want details!”
Thrace hustled me out to his car in silence. Once he started his old Mustang, his interrogation began. “So it appears I might have some competition…”
I raised exactly one eyebrow at him and remarked innocently, “For what?”
Thrace snorted and replied, “Your favorite eye candy.”
I smirked and stated with absolute truth, “Babe, you know my favorite eye candy has always been Shemar Moore!”
Thrace rolled his eyes and laughed then revised his claim to be my 2nd favorite and most accessible eye candy. As far as my most accessible eye candy goes, Thrace was speaking the gospel truth. Thrace was definitely a hottie in the prep school boy way with his curly blonde hair, blue eyes, and athletic frame. I had a huge crush on Thrace for pretty much my whole life. But, I was always like his little sister until about six months ago when the rest of my body caught up to my giraffe like legs. He had just broken up with his girl of the month when Jazz and Key helped me form a game plan. Key took me to her hair stylist that managed to tame and straighten my auburn locks. Jazz took me shopping for clothes that didn’t “hide” the fact that I had boobs. And mom pitched in with contacts, so Thrace could actually see my blue-green eyes without my retro glasses. Miraculously, my transformation prompted Thrace to ask me out, which delighted both our families. The awkward girl got the fairy tale, but they don’t ever tell you what happens after Cinderella, Snow White, Ariel, and Belle got the Prince.
I was distracted as Thrace fired his next question, “So I take it you and the other tarts are warm for Hermes form?”
My mouth dropped opened as I said, “Who?”
Thrace just shook his head and said, “The new guy!”
“Oh, I didn’t catch his last name,” I stuttered out.
Luckily, we were about to my house, so I only had to listen to a short tirade on the unknown skill of ‘the new guy.’
Unfortunately at that moment, I suffered from Foot-in-Mouth Disease as I commented, “Well, I guess I will find out how good he is tomorrow.”
Thrace’s eyes widened as he pulled into my drive, and his mouth hung open as he stammered, “Maybe I should drive you to your practice tomorrow morning.”
I kindly reminded him that my dad always took me to the gym before heading to work. It was our father-daughter bonding thing.
“Plus, you love your extra beauty sleep,” I teased.
He slowly leaned over to my seat and nuzzled my neck while he remarked, “Hey, a guy can only get so hot.”
He seemed more possessive than usual, so I announced, “You know my dad’s watchin us from his rifle scope, right?” He quickly scanned my house as I pulled the car door open and blew him a kiss good-bye.
I safely entered my house where my dad was calmly sitting on the couch watching ESPN. “How’s my ninja today? Kick some ass, take some names?”
My mom scowled and said “Lethe Edonides, language! How can we stop Calli from swearing like a sailor if you keep using profanity in front of her?”
You knew my dad was in trouble when my mom called him by his full name. I had to admit my mom’s concern was valid. I followed in dad’s footsteps on the salty language. But I found a compromise that was inspired by my need to mock our school mascot. We’re the Fighting Falcons. So, my favorite swear words were Flock and Eyas (Falcon). It’s much more amusing when combined with other phrases like Flock Off….Flock You…. Flocker…. Eyasholes…. Jackeyas…. Eyashats and although it still annoyed my mom, she saw it as a vast improvement over my other salty vocab.
“I will admit I appreciate her attempt at creative swear words, but mostly because it keeps you from yelling at me, Mimsy,” dad laughed.
I thought I had it bad with Calliope. My poor mom’s given name was Mnemosyne, hence the shortened version of Mimsy. Mom just shook her head and grumbled, “There is pot roast still in the slow cooker if your dad hasn’t already ate it.” Mom was a huge fan of slower cookers—just throw some food in it before you leave for work, and magically it turns into a meal by the time you come home. I walked into our kitchen to pull out a paper plate and plastic wear to put my pot roast on. Since I was the one that does the dishes, I tended to use disposable dining wear as much as possible. I took my pot roast back to the living room to recount my day as I ate, which was the requirement in my family. I had mastered the art of only giving enough information to my parents, so they felt like they were informed. It was a fine line--too much information led to more interrogation and too little information leads to major snooping. Thrace believed that I had developed the rare ability to express something while revealing nothing. However, I couldn’t shake the feeling that a sorcerer with laughing hazel eyes might have the ability to see beyond all my fine lines. I smiled at that whimsical thought as I finished my pot roast and parental interrogation.
Chapter 2: Mortal Combat
I woke up groggy because I set my alarm for a half hour earlier than usual to get ready to work out. I don’t know why I did that. Ok. I might know why I did that, but 6:00am was too early for rational thought. I kept my outfit simple with black yoga pants and a retro Offspring tee. It was much more difficult to get my thick auburn hair to calm down after a night of restless sleep. Luckily, I didn’t get any zits overnight which would have been just my luck. After some leave-in conditioner and some shine spray, I hoped my hair no longer looked like a bird’s nest.
I headed downstairs just in time to see my dad coming from the kitchen with his coffee, my Mt. Dew, and Zone bar. Hello, my name is Calliope, and I am an addict. My drug is caffeine. I like my caffeine cold usually in the fountain pop variety—Mt. Dew in the morning and Diet Dr. Pepper in the afternoon. I like the ice and carbonation, but in the morning on the way to work out, I’ll take what I can get. I thanked my dad for my version of breakfast as we walked to the car. He only grunted his reply. We slid into the white Taurus and headed to the YMCA. I actually started to get nervous, as we got closer. We were at the Y before I was mentally prepared. I sighed and lumbered out of the car. As we walked in and headed toward opposite locker rooms, dad announced, “Meet you back here in an hour, Calli.”
I dropped my bag in any empty locker then headed to the room where we had our karate lessons. Rafe was leaning against the door looking relaxed and refreshed. I hated him. How could he look that good this early? It was not natural. I tried to reign in my resentment and grumbled, “Morning.”
An amused expression crossed his face as he replied, “Morning, Sunshine.”
My surliness returned as I accused, “Please tell me you’re not a morning person.”
His wicked laugh flustered me, as he replied, “Definitely not I’m a night owl usually, but I have already run a bit this morning to get my blood flowing. Since we’re probably on the clock, let the mortal combat commence.”
“I hope you don’t mind me taking a couple of minutes to stretch. I can’t properly kick your eyas if I’m not loose,” I snarked with false bravado.
He unleashed his hypnotic laugh again as I lowered myself to the floor, “Stretch all you want. I don’t mind the view,” he replied with amusement.
I immediately became self-conscious as he watched me closely while I warmed up. He was leaning on the wall beside the door with his arms crossed and a slight smile on his face. I got the sense that he was evaluating me as an opponent as I stretched—looking for weaknesses and areas to exploit. I think that made me more uncomfortable than if he had been checking me out. I quickly finished my warm-up, so I could get some control back. I jumped up and turned to face him. “Would you like to keep staring at me, or would you like to spar?”
He strode towards me as he remarked, “I think the Siren has a little bit of a temper. Would you like to take that aggression out on me?”
I curtly replied, “Done and done,” as I executed my traditional bow. I then did something that was totally out of my usual sparring style. I attacked first.
He seemed momentarily surprised at my front kick aimed at his waist, but he deftly jammed my kick and said, “No need to attack the family jewels.”
“Sorry, based on your behavior, I thought I was aiming for the brains of the operation,” I snarked as I recovered my balance.
I had very little time to taunt after that because he immediately went on the offensive with a roundhouse kick that I avoided. For the next 30 minutes, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. Since we hadn’t sparred before, he was much harder to anticipate as well as being a much more skilled partner than I was used to. Typically, when I sparred with my partners like Thrace, it’s kinda like a choreographed dance routine with each person executing familiar controlled movements and patterns. For me, this was much more like a street fight. His offense constantly kept me on defense with almost no opportunity to counter or anticipate. Attack—react… Attack—react… Attack—react… Attack—react…
Rafe sensed my exasperation. He purposely eased up his attacks and let me take the offensive lead. He seemed to want to learn both how I defended and attacked. He superbly defended the whole bag of tricks in my arsenal. He avoided, blocked, and countered, making it virtually impossible for me to land any of my moves. He was by far the best opponent I had ever faced off against; I even got the sense that he was holding back which pissed me off even more.
I was happy when I saw that it was time for this little session to come to an end. I alerted Rafe to the need for me to bolt, then executed a much more respectful bow to my talented partner, which he returned. I was a little out of breath and bright red at the end of our session, whereas Rafe barely broke a sweat—Flock! I went to grab my towel as Rafe went for his bag. He pulled out two waters and threw me one. I deftly caught it and said thanks. I wiped my bright red face, which was the norm after any physical activity. What was not usual was me being self-conscious about my bright red complexion. Now that I had my caffeine and exercise, I could properly come to the realization that I might be crushin on the new guy. FLOCK….... FLOCK…..…. FLOCK……… !!
As I was regretting this new revelation, Rafe was watching me curiously, “Wanna try this again same time tomorrow?”
Without even thinking, I said “Sure,” then immediately wanted to kick my own eyas.
Before I could think of a way to back out of my premature articulation, he asked, “So what does one do around here for fun? I’m an Air Force base brat, but my dad just retired here after being stationed at Selfridge. Since it’s summer, I haven’t been able to meet a lot of friends my age. I can’t believe I’m actually admitting this, but I will be glad when school starts.”
I wanted to ask him a thousand questions right now, but I knew that my dad would be waiting for me, so I asked the most important question, “Where did you enroll?”
Rafe answered in a disgusted voice, “After much research, my dad chose Detroit Academy of Innovation. I’m sure the mascot has to be an atom or something. But he wants me to go into the Air Force Academy, so math and science are important. And it’s suppose to be the best.”
My chest tightened, and I barely found my voice as I said, “We’re not the Atoms; We’re the Fighting Falcons, so Fear the Bird. I go to DAI, so no mocking it until after you try it.”
He seemed pleased at this turn of events and said, “You look like you have to go. Do you mind if I call you later to pick your brain?”
“Ummm…ok,” I said hesitantly as I gave him my number.
He sensed my hesitation and gave me a wicked smile as he assured me, “I promise it won’t be painful.”
I just nodded and bolted from the room before I could get in more trouble. Dad was looking at his watch impatiently as I reached him, and he remarked, “You must have run farther than usual if you’re this late and this red.”
I immediately apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again, as we walked to the car. He turned on his favorite morning radio show and all conversation became unnecessary. However, his words reminded me what a sweaty, red hose beast I must look like. I mentally scolded myself that I have a boyfriend that loves me red faced and all, so I really didn’t need to impress anyone else.
Dad quickly dropped me off at the house, “Enjoy one of your last days of freedom.” I punched him on the arm before I jumped out of the car, “Don’t keep reminding me!”
I went for a run since I missed out this morning, then I headed up to the shower. As usual, I let the strong water pressure of the shower wash away all the drama of the day so far. By the time I was actually human again, it was about 10am, and I was ready for a nap. I had the house to myself because mom was at work. I snuggled under my cool cotton sheets and down comforter. Unfortunately, I should have hidden the spare key because not even an hour later, I was awoken by my boyfriend sitting on my bed already shooting questions at me, “Why is your phone off the hook?”
His question startled me awake, and I sat up in a sudden motion. I stared at Thrace for a second with a confused expression as I tried to process his question. Thrace seemed to understand the error of his ways and stroked my hair to calm me.
“Thrace, what part of breakin into my house, wakin me up, then asking why I wasn’t answering your call seemed like the smart move?” I grouched, still sleepy. I laid back down and went back to my happy place where rude boyfriends do not mess with my slumber. Thrace tried a much more effective tactic with me this time, which was laying on his side with his back to me so I could snuggle up against him. Now, had dad come home and caught him, it would have been a much more painful tactic. But dad was at work and dreamland was calling me back to sleep. I woke up on my own an hour later in a much better mood, but not with better breath, so I snuck out of bed and headed to the bathroom to brush my teeth again.
I headed downstairs to make lunch for us. As I was pulling the tuna and egg salad out of the fridge to make sandwiches, I was slightly frightened at the level of happy homemaker I was displaying right now. Once I dropped the food off in the den, I went to wake up sleeping beauty. I snuck back into my room to verify that Thrace was still sleeping soundly. Then, it was time for payback. I opened my door half way then slammed my bathroom door down the hall as loud as I could, saying in my best impersonation of dad, “What the hell is Thrace doing in Calli’s bed! I’m going to find my rifle!”
By the time I got into the room, Thrace was at the window ready to use my emergency exit. I smiled and said, “What the flock are you doing, Eyashat!”
There was real panic in his befuddled voice when he said, “Your dad is coming for me with a rifle.”
“Payback, sweetie,” I remarked as I put his hand in mine, drew him away from the window, and walked him downstairs to where lunch awaited us.
We both flopped down on the couch next to each other. Before I could grab my sandwich from the coffee table, Thrace had wrapped his arms around me from behind and positioned us both on our sides stretched out on the couch. This time he got to hold me. He seemed ready to resume his nap, but instead he said, “How did the match go this morning?”
I hesitated trying to think of the answer that would get me the least amount of hassle, “He is definitely on a whole different level than we are.” I hoped by making this a we vs. him thing Thrace would feel a little more secure and a little less territorial.
“How many times did you make contact?”
I described the frustrating sparring match in detail to satisfy my slightly jealous suitor. However, I left out the exchange of phone numbers, sparring again tomorrow, and the going to our school. Parental evasion had become as natural as breathing to me, but keeping that information from Thrace didn’t feel right.
Thrace gave me the best lead in. “I can’t wait until it is my turn. We haven’t set anything up yet, but hopefully, it’s soon.” Thrace announced with undisguised anticipation.
“Good luck with that. You’ll have plenty of time to spar with him because he’s enrolling in DAI this year,” I remarked as I waited for the explosion.
“What!” Thrace yelled as he sat up suddenly and accidently knocked me off the couch.
“Hey, Sparky, settle down,” I stood up and grabbed my lunch, then sat back on the end of the couch.
“When were you going to tell me this, Calli?” Thrace accused.
I took a bite of my sandwich as he said this so I could buy some time to think about my chicken or egg dilemma. Was I withholding information because of the way Thrace reacted like a jackeyas or was Thrace reacting this way because he sensed I was withholding things about Rafe? I felt like if I scolded him that I would feel guilty. However, I was not yet prepared to discuss my potential friendship with Rafe, yet, because it might not pan out.
So on this rare occasion, I tried my hand at standing up for myself with Thrace. “First you are going to apologize for throwing me off the couch, then you are going to stop with the accusations and the interrogation, which I know is coming next.”
He tried to interrupt me and I made the international sign for Zip It. “If you manage to keep a civilized tone after you apologize, I might consider letting you stay for lunch and answering your one accusation. So, how you gonna play this Tarzan? Will you stay or will you go? Your choice.”
Thrace looked shocked and annoyed, but he was certainly no dummy because his tone turned apologetic as he said, “I’m sorry Calli for knocking ya off the couch and accusing you of keeping secrets. There is just something about that guy that sets warning bells off in my head.”
Now it was my turn to feel guilty since I was in fact keeping secrets from him. However, as soon as I knew whether friendship was on the horizon with Rafe, I would fess up to it. I smiled at him and handed him his plate as I said, “Then, instead of trying to alienate him, I suggest you make nice.”
“Why would I do that if he already drives me crazy when I haven’t even had a full conversation with him?” Thrace inquired reasonably.
“You’re soooo not a girl if you have to ask that question.”
“Glad you noticed. Aren’t you the sharpest pen in the box of pens,” he said sarcastically as he started to munch on his sandwich.
“First, you seem to be wary of him because of me. So would you be more or less likely to hit on one of your friends’ girlfriends?”
“Good point, so you would befriend a girl that you thought was trying to hit on me?”
“No, but I have learned to co-exist with so many of your ex-girl friends that it feels like it sometimes.”
“Women are just more devious, or is it just you?”
“No, it just has become perfectly acceptable for girls to have frenemies. Notice, I don’t have any, nor do I want any. Just an observation I have made over the years watching my classmates,” I informed him as I chewed my sandwich with a thoughtful expression.
“Guys are more straightforward. I am just going to try to kick his ass, then we can be friends,” Thrace stated with typical male logic.
“To each gender, their own devices, I suppose. What’s on the agenda today?” I inquired as I finished off my sandwich and soda.
“I thought you would want as much pool time as possible. We can head over to my house and chillax.”
“That sounds divine. I’ll just run up and change. There is more food in the fridge if you are still hungry,” I remarked because I knew Thrace too well.
“Don’t mind if I do,” Thrace replied as he headed to the kitchen while I went upstairs.
Chapter 3: Trouble with a Capital R
I hurried upstairs to locate my bikini, flip flops, shorts, and classic SNL More Cowbell t-shirt—most of which were on my floordrobe rather than in my closet. I changed in a minute flat and grabbed my beach bag. My beach bag contains: 4 different levels of sunscreen, 3 different types of books that all have various levels of water damage, towel, old but indestructible mp3 player, lip gloss, hair tie, water bottle, and my favorite shade of OPI nail polish: Legs Celebrate. As I went to grab my phone, I remembered who actually had my phone number. Today would be a good day to have a break from technology and leave all my worries behind.
I headed downstairs to the kitchen just as Thrace polished off the egg salad. I left a note for my parents and walked hand-in-hand with Thrace for the five blocks to his house. In less than ten minutes, I was floating my cares away in Thrace’s pool. I had a freakish ability to float perfectly atop the water—no raft needed. Today, it was harder to float my cares away. There was something about how Thrace said that Rafe set off warning bells in his head that disturbed me. It was like the foreshadowing you often got in a scary movie. He definitely set off warning bells in my brain, but he also seemed familiar to me. The way we immediately started to banter was not only unusual it was unheard of for me. As aloof as I could be, I never just clicked with someone new like that.
When Thrace felt that he gave me the appropriate amount of time for my floating, he cannon balled into the pool to bring me back to the present. We did some water sparring before it was time to get out and dry off for a bit. We stretched out side by side on a double lounger that Thrace bullied his parents into getting. Thrace diligently applied my sunscreen on anywhere I allowed him to get his hands on. We kissed and snuggled for a while enjoying the perfect weather and the last days of freedom. Thrace decided to take another dip in the pool to cool off while I grabbed a book to entertain me. For my light pool reading, Stephanie Plum won out today because she’s describing the hot New Jersey summer as she ran around trying to catch bail jumpers and unscrew up her love life. I could sympathize.
Thrace got back, dried off, and sat down next to me. His cool body was the perfect temperature to combat the sun. I read while he listened to his iPod. It sort of reminded me of my parents. Both my parents and Thrace and I were perfectly happy sitting next to each other while doing different things. There were some couples at school that have to do absolutely everything together. If he’s playing a video game, she has to play a video game or worse watch him constantly play video games. If she wanted to watch a Chic Flick, he had to watch the Chic Flick. Either scenario would drive me insane. Of course, then there was the opposite problem. They liked to watch separate things, so she gets her designated room and he gets the man cave like Thrace’s parents.
Speaking of which, Thrace’s mom arrived home and seemed amused to find us loafing by the pool. She announced that she thought tonight would be a perfect night to grille out and drink Sangria, although she was clear that we were only welcome to the dinner. She asked me to call my parents and get them to come over while she headed to the kitchen to see what was on the menu. I remembered that I left my phone at home so I asked Thrace, “Can I borrow your land line? I left my phone at home.”
He laughed, said yes, and helped me up from our favorite spot. I called home and as usual mom picked up. I let her know the festivities planned for the evening. It was not a hard sell. My mom and Thrace’s mom were co-workers and best friends. I’m fairly certain if this was the time period of most of mom’s historical fiction that our parents would have had us engaged from birth. Thrace’s mom, like my own, has an odd first name, Methone, so everyone just calls her Honey. They were both nurses on the same shift at an intensive care unit, and they both decided to go for their Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist (CRNA) license together. Nowadays, CRNAs make as much as or more than most family practice doctors! They also both ended up dating men they shouldn’t have dated. In my mom’s case, dad was a patient when a fire he was fighting got out of hand. Dad kept asking her out every time she walked into his room. In his words, “I chased your mom until she caught me.”
In Honey’s case, she fell hopelessly in love with a doctor completing his Residency on her unit. She chased him until she got pregnant, but he wasn’t as good of a catch as my dad. He was sort of a workaholic with little time for any of his kids, and not a whole lot of time for his wife. Thrace’s older sister was barely on speaking terms with him, and it seemed that Thrace was constantly trying to be good or bad enough so his dad would actually notice. When he was home, he was in his man cave, and even Thrace was not really allowed to go down there. Dad seemed to get along fine with Thrace’s dad even though they are so different—fireman vs. doctor. The common threads of being married to women that were practically sisters and their love of Detroit sports’ teams were enough to bridge the divide of education and background.
In short order, the food was all prepped and Thrace was at the grill doing brats and burgers. My mom and Honey were well into the pitcher of Sangria before the dads got home. Dad got here earlier than Thrace’s dad Pierus/Russ. The dads talked sports, and the moms talked old times. Thrace and I listened to both sets of conversations and wondered how we were ever going to turn out even remotely normal. The Edonides clan headed home about 9:00 with not a care in the world.
Luckily, I was on my own when Rafe called that night. He seemed to have an endless supply of Detroit-based questions for me. I was definitely a fount of knowledge. I sorta sounded like a history professor, but it didn’t seem like it scared him off. We got on the subject of karate and sparring, and that was when I brought up my boyfriend, “So when are you sparring with Thrace? He said he was looking forward to it after I told him that you kicked my eyas this morning. Of course, it might have something to do with the fact that he’s slightly possessive when it comes to me. He actually wanted to come with me this morning, and he doesn’t ever get up in the summer before 10.”
“Ahhh. I wondered about that. Although you didn’t mention anything about a boyfriend this morning,” he kidded me.
“You seemed smart enough to catch on that first day. And, I didn’t know I had to explain my personal life to you as we were sparring. Would you like me to draw you pictures too?” I teased.
“If he is possessive about you in regards to me, does he know you gave me your number?”
“I generally dole out information on a need to know basis. I’m also very practical. The level of interrogation and information seeking rises drastically with Thrace when any member of your gender pays attention to me.”
“You must be constantly interrogated by him because I would guess that most guys probably show a lot more than remote interest in you,” he complimented.
The stomach flip must have caused verbal diarrhea because I babbled, “Ahhhh…Wrong! I was the ugly ducking for most of my life. I really have to wonder if Thrace’s issue is an animal thing….Protecting the pride from rival lions and the fight for dominance. I think I like peacocks way of doing things. The men just display their feathers and the one that is the prettiest to the female wins.”
“So you would automatically pick the prettiest one?” Rafe said in an amused tone.
“No, I just think that is a more civilized way of doing things and, the woman gets to decide who she wants—always a positive. Plus, even though I have a black belt in karate, two macho jerks physically fighting over me is not a turn on.”
“A male runway show would be better than two guys fighting over the woman they love. Interesting. I’ll have to remember that in the future.”
“You deliberately misunderstood my words—more civilized, yes, and I get to choose. If it was violence I cared about, I would be much more intrigued with how when a female Praying Mantis gets bored with her mate she just bites his head off.”
“So much for violence not being a turn on! You are a bloodthirsty wench. I feel sorry for your boyfriend.”
“So do I. But once again, it’s not about the violence. It’s about us getting to choose our fate as well as too much Animal Planet for me,” I admitted in laughing manner.
“Free will and choices for you. Next thing you know you’ll want the right to vote or to get equal pay for equal work! What is the world coming to? You are lucky to live in a time and place that has granted women equality. It has not always been the case here, and many places still do not give women such freedom,” Rafe stated as if it was his turn to become the history professor.
“That is true, Dr. Rafe. But I also give back to society as well. At DAI, we have our own club that focuses on volunteering. And geek that I am, they voted me President when I had to miss a meeting. It was like being the President of the Chess Club—you might as well put on your college application President/Head Geek. However, every DAI student is required to complete 100 volunteer hours per year, so maybe it’s not that bad,” I said with what sounded like school pride. I needed to check if I was running a high fever as soon as I got off the phone.
“I’m already working with a volunteer group. I wonder if it would count. We document, renovate, and explore some of Detroit’s abandoned real estate to try to get it certified as Historical Landmarks or torn down if they are dangerous.”
“Wow. That’s sounds interesting. I bet our club would be interested in helping with that,” I enthused.
“Some of the buildings are amazing. The background and the events that happened in some of these places are unbelievable. Unfortunately, it’s as if we could turn all of Detroit into a museum to the past sometimes. There are just so many of these beautiful old building that have fallen to complete ruin. It makes you sick,” Rafe said with disgust.
“What is your group called?”
“They’re called the Detroit Urban Archeologists. You can do a lot of different types of volunteer activities with them. We currently have completed over 100 historical building studies. You can help assess the current damage level as well as who owns the property, how much it’s on the market for, or you can help design the buildings’ websites.”
“I love some of the old buildings here. My mom loves going to antique auctions, and she usually drags me along.”
“Then you would fit right in with this group—mostly because they have some pretty strange characters that hang out there,” he teased.
“If you think I’m strange, you should see what some of these old people have kept that is being sold after they die. I went to one auction where the person had to be obsessed with silverware. They had 50 sets of antique-boxed silverware. But they also had about 50 other cardboard boxes that had at least 100 pounds of regular silverware. Sometimes, it is pretty sad to see someone’s whole life’s possession sitting outside their house being bid on by strangers.”
“Sometimes it’s sad? Aren’t you the Queen of Understatement. It sounds almost morbid, and you do this for fun?” Rafe sounded skeptical.
“Yes, you always find the weirdest and wildest things at these estate auctions. And everything has a story behind it. Then, you get to bid against someone, and pit your will against their will.”
“You’re an old soul, Calli,” he mused with affection in his voice.
“My grandma always said that, and I still don’t know what it means. Care to explain?” I remarked inquisitively.
Rafe hesitated for a second before he said, “No, you’ll figure it out someday if you are truly a geek.”
“Excuse me. Did you just mock me? You really feel comfortable enough to mock me. Really…..”
“Calli, I’m guessing that very few of your friends call you on your antics. I promise you, I will be one of them.”
“Wow. What an incentive to pursue a friendship with you. What other sterling attributes do you bring to the friendship table?” I mocked this time.
Rafe was silent for a second before he really sold me with, “Well, I can kick your eyas in karate. I can beat you on every test and quiz in school. I can outrun you. I can outdo you in the use of sarcasm and vocabulary, and I have the prettiest display of feathers in the Detroit area.” Then he laughed in a deeply suggestive way that got my heart rate accelerating.
I couldn’t help it. I laughed too! When our amusement ceased, I finally said, “Vain much? You know, guys that act like they’re god’s gift to women are really a turn off.”
“Can’t have it both ways, Calliope. You either want to choose the guy with the prettiest feathers or you don’t.”
“I’m sorry, were you still talking?” I countered back.
“Ah. Evasion. I think you are particularly good at that skill,” he speculated.
“As stimulating as this conversation has been, I’m gonna have to get some rest so I can kick your eyas tomorrow morning. So, good night, Mr. Vain.”
“And she retreats. Good night, Calli.”
Oh, I’m in Trouble. I remembered the wise words of Harold Hill from The Music Man (I am a show tunes freak, deal), as he thought trouble in something that started with P. He was only a couple letters off because trouble in my life started and ended with R for Rafe.
Chapter 4: Plane Friends
I was my bright and perky self when I headed into the gym after my dad pointedly told me not to be late this morning. Rafe seemed to be stretching when I came in, and I immediately started doing the same after a grumbled hello. We stretched in companionable silence. I finally felt sufficiently warmed up after stealthily checking him out about a dozen times. We started our kihon and kata, and I announced, “You can’t make me late today by grilling me with your questions.”
“Hello. Good Morning. How are you? These are all polite ways to start out conversations. Calli, were you perhaps raised by wolves?”
Well, I can’t say I wasn’t warned. He did say he would call me on my antics. I replied with just a tinge of guilt in my voice, “I did say hello when I walked in.”
“No. I think you might have growled something. A greeting, it was not. Of course, it was followed by the world’s most civil conversation openers: an accusation. I am sure your mother taught you better manners than that.”
I paled a little. He was right that my mom had taught me better, but to admit I was wrong this early in the morning was not going to happen. I finally said, “I didn’t accuse you. I just said I can’t be late. And this is my early morning personality; either accept me for who I am or don’t be around me this early.”
“First, you did say, and I quote, ‘you can’t make me late today.’ Second, It was your blatant curiosity about me that made you late yesterday. Third, I accept you as you are but I distinctly remember telling you I would call you on your behavior. Finally, don’t issue ultimatums that you have no intention of carrying out,” he snarked back with a wink.
I turned to face him and pinned his gaze to mine. I announced with authority as if I had not heard a word he said, “Well, I’m glad we have that straight. Another thing we need to get straight is Thrace. Right now, he is unaware of our friendship. As soon as school starts that is going to change. If we are going to stay friends, you are going to have to make friends with Thrace.” I went back in my stance, and we continued on with practicing our kihon.
His voice turned serious, “Why is it you would like me to befriend your better half?”
I laughed and informed him, “He is my better half and has been a friend for over ten years. And you should make nice with him for several reasons. He’s Mr. Popular at DAI, and since Jazz and Key are going to be friends with you, it will make it easier all around if you befriend Thrace.”
His voice turned husky, and I had a hard time with my concentration as he asked, “So if he’s a social butterfly, what are you?”
“As you already pointed out, I’m a work in progress. I’m the one that will sit back and watch instead of come over and talk. I’m the one with an Irish temper and sarcastic sense of humor. I’m the one that will read a book before I’ll watch TV. I’m the one with a small group of plane friends instead of a large circle of back stabbers.”
We finished our kata as I finished my self-disclosure. He seemed to be pondering what I had just told him as he bowed to me. I returned his bow before he asked the inevitable question, “What are plane friends?”
I waited for his attack this time, and I was not disappointed as he started with a front kick-punch combination, which I avoided then countered. And we were off to the races again. We circled as I answered his question, “One of my very good friends, Clio, moved away to Cleveland my freshman year. She was in a car accident last year. When she called to tell me she was in the hospital, I jumped on a plane and took a taxi directly to the Cleveland Clinic. When I was at the airport, I started to think which friends of mine I would jump on a plane for no questions asked if they said they needed me. It’s a short list. Clio, Thrace, Jazz, and Key.”
He let me attack as he considered my revelation. He finally said in a thoughtful voice, “My list of plane friends wouldn’t even be that long. I have many friends, but only one true friend since my best friend died.”
I faltered then stopped my attack altogether. He had actually grabbed my wrist instead of blocking my last pathetic punch. “I’m sorry. That must have been really hard. How old were you when he died?”
He had let our hands hang down still connected. “She died awhile ago, and yes it was hard. It was like losing a piece of me. You actually remind me a little of her. Cora had a whole lotta spunk.”
“If it’s not too painful, do you mind if I ask how she died?” His hand slid from my wrist and entwined in my hand.
He stared off into space as if he was trying to distance himself from the loss. “She died in an accident. Your story made me think of it.” Then his hypnotic gaze held me in rapt attention as he whispered, “I would be honored to call you a friend, Calli. And maybe, someday even a plane friend.”
I took a deep breath while trying unsuccessfully to escape his hypnotic gaze as I shyly pronounced, “Somehow, I think I’ve already entered the deep end of the pool by being friends with you.”
He looked slightly startled then somewhat amused when he said, “Truer words were never spoken. But, somehow I think you’re rather adept at treading water.”
“I’m better at floating and evasion. So on that note, I was told by my dad not to make him late again, so I’m gonna have to bail.”
He glanced down at our hands entwined and looked like he truly regretted having to let mine go. He squeezed it once and said with a tempting smile, “Til tonight, Calli.”
I sprinted toward the exit to make sure dad wasn’t late again. He seemed less irritated this time so I must have just made it in time. I followed the same routine as yesterday with a quick run, a long shower, and a nap. This time I wasn’t startled awake by Thrace, but I did wake up snuggled up against his back. I kissed his neck right by his ear in the spot that I knew he loved and said, “Much better.”
He sleepily mumbled, “What’s much better?”
“Waking up like this rather than being startled awake,” I sat up and started to stretch.
Unfortunately, Thrace took the opportunity to tackle me back to the bed while he cajoled, “We should take advantage of our last week home without parental supervision. Calli, don’t you think it’s time?”
As he kissed my neck, I confessed to him, “Thrace, I know you have been patient, but I’m not ready. Your first time only happens once and it won’t be special for me if I feel like I caved to pressure from you.”
Thrace seemed a tad bit frustrated as he rolled over and stared up at my ceiling. This was an ongoing battle that Disney never clued me into when I landed the Prince. I felt so lucky to have finally got his attention that I was afraid that he would start looking elsewhere. “Calli, I have been patient for months. How long do you plan on keeping me waiting?”
“I just want to feel like our first time happens at the exact right time. I haven’t even scheduled an appointment to get on birth control.”
Thrace look horrified, “Calli, you don’t have to do that. I have us covered in that area!”
Both our mothers were nurses so this was a no-brainer, “You have us mostly covered. I will not take a risk every time just to avoid a little parental humiliation. Those percentages add up you know. Now, think about how my dad is going to look at you when he finds out, and if that doesn’t make you feel like you want to wait then nothing will.”
Thrace shuddered and actually jumped out of bed and said, “You hungry?”
I laughed and said, “Thought that mental image might be helpful for you.”
We were downstairs raiding the kitchen for suitable lunch food in under a minute. We settled on Spaghetti O’s and peanut butter sandwiches. As we were eating in the den, Thrace started talking like he was reading from a script he prepared. “I know you want our first time to be perfect. I think part of you not being ready is that sex is something you have to slowly work up to. For instance, there are about 21 steps between meeting someone and the first time that most committed couples go through.”
I shook my head and said with a dumbfounded expression still on my face, “Where are you getting this, and why are you acting like you are reading off a teleprompter?”
“It doesn’t matter!” Thrace said with embarrassment.
“Clearly, it does matter!” I laughed. No way was he going to brazen his way out of this one, especially since it was definitely going to be amusing.
“Fine. I found it online. You’re making me so desperate that I have been doing research.”
“What the Flock! What type of research? Don’t tell me you Googled how to persuade your virgin girlfriend to have sex with you. ” I said, slightly hysterical.
“No!” He huffily replied, which told me I wasn’t far off the mark.
“Back to my main point. Maybe we should just work our way through the list until you are ready,” he said desperately trying to get the conversation back to his main idea.
If this would make him happy, then I guess we could try it. “That sounds reasonable. But first I want to see the list and I want to know where it came from. Second, it’s not going to be one thing on the list per day, ok?”
Thrace nodded and gave me a grateful smile like he could actually see the finish line now.
Thrace didn’t want to hang out at the pool because we had practice this afternoon, and he felt it would drain his energy. I think he was secretly hoping that he would get to fight Rafe and didn’t want to take his chances on not being in top form. So, we kicked back and watched Borat until we left for class.
As usual, Thrace drove us to class. He actually put his hand on my back as we walked in the door, which he had never done before. Rafe was nowhere to be seen, so Thrace’s territorial gesture was wasted, although Jazz and Key definitely noticed and smirked as they followed me into the locker room.
Download this book for your ebook reader.
(Pages 1-27 show above.)