Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58600 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 293(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Monica’s eyes glimmer like she might cry, then she sips her drink. “I just hope she can get out of her own way.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
Before she can answer, a spotlight illuminates the stage. A woman dressed in a multicolored, long, flowy dress walks out, a headdress on her auburn hair. “Ladies, gents, please allow me to welcome you to the three hundred and twenty-second poetry slam at Rafter’s.” Everybody applauds. “As you all know, poetry was my first love before I entered the seedy world of liquor supply…”
That gets some light laughter.
“It’s been my greatest joy to bring poetry to this city, giving up-and-coming performers a chance to showcase their talent. So, without further ado, let me welcome… Sphinx!”
The first performance is a tongue-in-cheek piece about a man who can’t stop obsessing about an unfinished sandcastle. The man leaps around the stage at one point, pretending to stamp on his half-constructed castle. It’s surprisingly engaging.
When he’s done, I look around the bar, making sure Damien hasn’t suddenly appeared. Is this paranoia, or just the natural result of having a gun aimed at somebody I care about… hell, and at me?
There are two more performances, and then Monica points to the edge of the stage. Tori shifts from foot to foot, fidgeting with her overalls. When her mom offers her a thumbs-up, that seems to make it worse.
At one point, she turns as if she’s going to flee the stage. The announcer glances over, then seemingly decides to announce the next act instead. Once the performer has taken to the stage, she walks over to Tori.
I stand, joining them. “Thanks,” Tori murmurs to the woman as I approach.
“What’s going on?” I whisper, rubbing her back.
“Oh, nothing,” she says, laughing humorlessly. “It’s just different with people I know in the crowd.”
I take her hands, holding her steady as she begins to tremble. “I know you want to do this, Tori. I felt your passion emanating from you when you talked about your poetry. When I gave you that notebook, I could see your soul shining. To other people, it’s just poetry. But not for you. It means more. It matters more.”
She takes a breath. “You’re right.”
I lean close, kissing her gently on the lips, then remain there, looking intensely into her eyes. “I got your hint in our texts. Don’t stress if your poem relates to me or your mom, okay? We can take it. Tonight is about your passion, your creativity. Tonight is about you. If you don’t want to do this, I’ll understand. But I need you to know something, you beautiful, perfect woman. You can do this.”
Her smile is the best gift a man could receive. She throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispers into my ear.
“You’ve got this.”
We share another kiss, then I return to my seat.
“I hope I didn’t overstep there, Monica.”
She rolls her eyes. “No, Alex, you did not. I’ve never seen Tori look so happy. Even if she’s trying to fight it.”
CHAPTER 19
TORI
My heart pounds like it’s trying to break out of my chest.
I don’t even hear the announcer. Fueled by Alex’s words, I can walk onto the stage and into the bright lights. I thought surviving a freaking gun might make this easier, but right now, it doesn’t seem to matter.
A silence stretches across the room. I’m almost glad that the spotlight pretty much blinds me.
I take the mic from the stand and start stamping my foot on the floor in a steady rhythm. I’ve visualized and practiced this, but it’s different with the crowd looming in the semidarkness.
“Love,” I say, my voice cracking… which was intentional. I sound like I could cry. That’s good. “Is it a lie? In your eyes, I ask myself why—and how I can care this much and get scared this much when you’re a stranger to me. Cascading through me and you is something that should be tame. But when I look into your eyes and into my heart, I see the same… Feeling I should let it die. In your eyes, I can’t ask myself why I care or why I’m scared, because it all could be a lie…”
I put the mic to my foot and stamp even harder, mirroring the rhythm of my heart, my body flooding with emotion.
“Love!” I scream into the mic, causing people to jump. Good. I’m getting the reactions I wanted, at least. “Am I just your plaything? Your on-the-side surprise? If relations are a ship, are you ready to capsize? Are you spinning tall tales as we travel on small sails and tip these frail scales down false trails? Will it all end with a hurried collision of flesh? And then? And then?”
Even I’m shocked by the emotion in my voice, the fact the mic is shaking in my hand.