A Toast to Starry Nights (21 page)

Neilsinhaur gestured towards the
recliner.

I didn't want to sit in the throne of
induced hallucination. It was as if sitting upon the throne would make me
Willow's heiress to the kingdom of sheer lunacy. Did I really want to go there
and claim that for my very own?

“Don't be nervous, that chair hasn't
bitten anyone lately.”

Was my trepidation so apparent?

I sat down, hands in lap and feet firmly
on the floor. Purse placed next to my feelt.

“So how was your Fourth of July?”

What? No swinging pocket watch yet?

“It was interesting.” I mean, come on.
The only thing missing were chalk outlines and sirens.

“Interesting? That's a neutral
statement.”

A reminder that the party went just a
smidgen better than our Christmas bash should be noted for the record. “The
Maid of Honor and Best Man got into a squabble that left most everyone
scratching their head afterward. We had our engagement party on the Fourth.”

With the exception of mutual friend
warfare, the remainder of the party went well. Grampa offered a toast, and when
we all went to raise glasses, I noticed Jet still wasn't in attendance. I
didn't know if she was beyond pissed that Wiley gone inside to make his version
of amends earlier. He too, conspicuously absent.

There had been a small screech-fest
shortly after he went inside to apologize, then ominous quiet. About twenty
minutes later, we heard Jet's car peel off. When Dmitri investigated, he found
Wiley's truck still parked on the street. It stayed there until dark. Jet and
Wiley both did not answer their cell phones. I couldn't help but wonder who
offed who, and where the body was now. Could Jet fit a six-foot-four body in
the trunk of her Beemer by herself? With the Fireman Lift anything is possible,
I suppose.

Around nine, shortly before the sulfur-scented
firework extravaganza, Wiley showed up long enough to collect his dog and
truck. Not a word of where he had been or where Jet was. Just a whistle to the
lab and off he went. Jet didn't answer her phone until the next morning. I'm
sure it protested from the half dozen text and voice messages I left for her,
demanding to know where she hid Wiley's body and whether or not she needed
quick-lime and an alibi.

Pretty much everyone at the party
ignored those two invisible waltzing pink elephants.

“I hope it didn't put a damper on the
remainder of the party.”

“Oh, it didn't. Dmitri the Joyful Pyro
made his appearance. About an hour straight of sky glitter made for a good
nightcap for the evening.”

Neilsinhaur cleared his throat. “Did you
accomplish the homework you were given?”

“Yes.” At least I could lay claim that
yes, I went spelunking in my mind to terribly dark and creepy places. Yay me.

“Can you describe it to me? What your
experience was like?”

“I suppose. Each step down gave me the
willies. It was like the further down I went, the weirder the noises coming
from the dark. Made me feel anxious. There was thumping and wailing.”

“Did you have any trouble immersing
yourself into the environment?” Neilsinhaur's shrewd gaze leveled on me as he
awaited my answer.

“I don't think so. To be honest, I can
still feel the dirt from the walls beneath my fingernails.”

“It's a good sign that you can develop
the environment so strongly. With some, the tendency is from more of a
third-person perspective. They are more of an observer than a participant. That
you are able to get so deep into the details bodes well. I interpret it to mean
you mind is receptive towards uncovering your scar tissue.”

Huzzah, then.

“Okay, before we start, I need you to
try and relax. Can you put the footrest up on the recliner?”

I did so. I didn't like taking my feet
off the ground. Nervous foot twitching is more visible if the floor isn't there
to stop the movement.

“You told me that you waited to restart
your relationship with Dmitri. Would you say it was worth the wait?”

Without hesitation, I answered, “Yes.”
There was nothing else I could tell him without revealing too much of my
personal feelings regarding the wait to be with Dmitri. Almost synonymous with
quality nekkid time, especially the first nekkid time with Dmitri. Was it worth
the wait? Does one really need to ask?

Dmitri was back in California after
flying to Croatia for his grandfather's funeral. He was living in La Jolla at
the time, but flew into Sacramento to see me for an impromptu visit. It had
been about four years since he and I had seen each other, although we had
stayed in touch via late night phone calls, text messages and instant message
marathons.

Last time we had seen each other, I
endured miserable travel conditions to spend eighteen unforgettable hours with
him. When he first laid eyes on me, I looked like something a mangy cat puked
and shat upon. There was no chance of that happening again. They only thing
that would remain a constant was the delectable body wash I bought from Lush.
Honey, jasmine and a hint of musk... I hoped to bring back the memory of my
last visit and the four hour dry-humping marathon by scent alone. I planned on
channeling my inner flying fox.

Jet did my hair. I don't know how she
endures two hours of torture in a chair just to have her hair look like
perfection for photo shoots... but then again, she's paid to cope. My ass was
plopped in an uncomfortable dining room chair with a hard wooden seat that
somehow defied the power of the cushions placed upon it for comfort. With the
chair positioned out from under the table and all of Jet's styling supplies, my
already cramped apartment seemed even more tiny.

Jet applied enough styling products to
keep my hair in place long after my bones turned to dust. After having my hair
pulled, curled, tweaked and lacquered, styled, lacquered some more and then brushed
into submission with a final shellacking of hairspray, I felt ready to take on
both Dmitri and an Arizona monsoon. With nary a moment spared between taming my
tresses and painting my face, she got to work sculpting cheekbones, creating
smokey doe-eyes and pouting lips. Her ability to wave liquid eyeliner like a
magic wand must have come from years of practice because when she held a mirror
up for me to gander at her handiwork. Not only did I have the aforementioned
cheekbones, my eyes seemed more green than blue and lips provocatively kissable
(as Jet assured me, “Yeah, if my garden gate swung that way, you'd get nailed
tonight.”), but my auburn hair was swept back from my brow, and cascaded down
my back in a tumble of curls. A braid, much like one sees on sculptures of
ancient Roman matrons, encircled the crown of my head.

“Oh. Em. Gee. You are a wonder worker.
Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I looked sophisticated, polished and so
unlike myself.

The hair complimented the dress I chose
to wear; a black silk Grecian-inspired number that reached my knees. Thin
straps led into a draped neckline that bared my collar bone and hinted towards
cleavage. Beneath my breasts, wide dark purple ribbon crisscrossed and wrapped
around my torso. Under there, my lingerie I had been eyehumping online for
months and finally splurged upon. Knickers and a demi-bra of black satin,
accented in fire red. My pocketful of kryptonite was a black lace garter belt
which wandered saucily down my thighs and held up black back-seamed thigh
highs, reminiscent of forties pin-up girls. Black satin pumps encased my feet.

Naughty, provocative, I was Aphrodite
reborn from the sea, ready and willing to seduce the mortal man of my choosing.

“Now don't get all weepy. I expect a
report of good things tomorrow by noon, sharp. Waterproof makeup was not used,
so no nookie in the shower unless you know he has a fetish for raccoon eyes.”
She whipped the towel covering my clothing away in a gesture that would make a
matador jealous. “My work here is done. Go forth, Grasshopper, and get some.
And if it falls through because you're both too damn chicken to make the first
move, I expect you to buy some lottery scratchers. If you don't get laid, you
just might get lucky.” She smiled her shit-eating grin and I laughed.

It had been a long time since I had been
on a date, longer since I had been on a date with Dmitri. I was antsy to see
him.

Jet lifted a small wooden case which
seemed to be fashioned from an old cigar box out of her styling bag and opened
it. Nestled within the case and resting upon blue velvet was an ornate
necklace. She lifted it out and stood behind me to fasten it upon my
collarbone. Creamy pearls, amethyst and diamonds twinkled in the filigreed
setting.

“My gift to you. Nothing will get a man
thinking of nailing one like the mention of a pearl necklace.” She couldn't
quell the giggle. “Seriously, you will not believe how well that line works.”

I'd take her word on it.

It would be nearly a two hour drive to
Sacramento to see pick him up, but that was fine with me. I burned a couple CDs
in anticipation, songs that each said something about the way I felt for him,
or songs I associated with him and memories from a summer in 1997 and a night
in early spring 2007. Growing up during the heyday of mixed tapes, I was sure
he'd appreciate my wondrous and tasteful collection of tunes.

Time had come. My Grand Cherokee tore
down Interstate 5. Shimmying down the back bone of rural California, seeking
Sacramento by the most direct route possible-- even if it meant that the broken
back bumper would finally fall off into center of the road. The entire way I
concentrated on two things: how great it would be to see Dmitri again, and just
how I was going to seduce him.

An hour and a half raced by like a Kentucky
Derby winner, and I was in Downtown Sacramento in a state of elation and
Japanese-schoolgirl giddiness. When Dmitri called to tell me of his stop over
in Sacramento, I told him that since he treated me last time I saw him, it was
my opportunity to return the favor. My tactic was to appeal to his senses;
sight, smell, touch, taste and sound. And was it not an old adage that the way
to a man's heart was through his stomach? My bases were covered.

I tooled through the busy streets of
Sacramento until I found his hotel. I parked and pumped some change into the
meter while I called his cell to summon his presence. No more than three
minutes passed before he was down in the lobby to meet me, looking delightfully
svelte. His brown hair was lightly gelled and swept to the side, reminding me
strongly of classic Cary Grant. He wore a gray suit and polished black shoes.
Even wore a fedora at a jaunty angle. Dmitri the Dapper.

“My oh my...” he let out a long whistle
as he drank the sight of me. I saw his gaze slowly scan me from foot to face.

I tried not to smile, being that the
last time he and I were in vicinity to each other, I looked horrid. Almost
sweatpants and teeshirt kind of horrid. To look marvelous and dressed up
totally set a new tone for adventure.

“Not too much, is it?” I twirled around
and the hem of my dress flared. Oooh, maybe dancing is in the cards for
tonight. “Nice Zoot Suit, by the way.” I smirked.

“It's not enough.”

“Ex-squeeze me? Not enough? I'm covered
in all the right places. Not like I'm going to get arrested for indecent
exposure.”

“I mean, I can't get enough of looking
at you. Wow, Kaylis, you clean up well.”

“Thanks.” Banishing the blush staining
my chest and cheeks wasn't easy. “So, Mister Branimir, are you ready for a
feasting of fun?”

“I am. What's on the agenda, Captain?”

“Sushi. Sake. Tatami room and low
tables.”

“Oh, nice! You're taking me to Japan
tonight?”

“Well, a Japanese room in a Chinese
restaurant, although they do have a separate Japanese menu. Would that qualify
as a solid Asian restaurant?”

“I think it could.”

“You'll like this place, I promise. It's
been around since I was a youngling, and the best things taste just like they
did when I was small and irritating.”

“I take it that our eatery isn't in this
lobby , so shall we get going?” He offered me his arm. With another blushing
smile, I held on, feeling somewhat like a delighted debutante.

I led the way to the Jeep. “Your chariot
awaits, Admiral.”

We hopped into my rig and away we went.
North to Chico where adventure awaited. I couldn't resist the smirk glued to my
face as the Cure poured forth from speakers.

“If you were any other woman, I'd think
you were up to something.” He wasn't looking at me when he spoke. Instead his
gaze faced his door's window.

“Just fun, homefry. You're allowed a
little playtime, aren't you?”

“Your definition of 'playtime' involves
Love Song?” Dmitri's head swung around to view my still-smirking profile.

“Why since you asked, yes , yes it does.
Otherwise I'd have to play all of Disintegration.” My favorite album by those
delightful British lads.

“Then Bloodflowers.” Which happened to
be Dmitri's favorite album by the Cure.

“Nope, only Maybe Someday.”