A Toast to Starry Nights (3 page)

“Well, that would be
unique.
” A
giggle escaped at her pun. “And you should read more world history. The
Ottomans invaded Croatia. So throwing an invader's culture into the face of
someone could understandably lead to rejection. But Morocco... spices, silks,
olives... sand. Lots of sand. So, what colors were you thinking of for your
nuptial festivities?”

“Indigo blue, silver and purple. White
flowers... I'm thinking roses, gardenia and lily. Maybe some hydrangea. I'd be
in the Indigo. Dmitri would wear a dark colored suit...maybe charcoal gray. I
want the kiss to happen at midnight. That way, we'd start the day as man and
wife.” My bad for not researching my ideas better. At least Dmitri liked my
Moroccan backup.

“For as bitter and cynical as you happen
to be, you are such a hopeless romantic. You do know that, don't you? And I
like purple. I can rock purple. You should play 'Underneath the Stars' by the
Cure. It'd be perfect for your non-emo psudo-gothy wedding.”

“I'm a hopeful romantic, and I just know
I found my prince.” To go with my prince, my finger possessed a new sparkly
tiara...It was hard to not hold my hand out to admire Dmitri's great taste in
jewelry. It always irked me when I would witness some newly engaged gal staring
aimlessly at her finger-bling, hand splayed as if ready to fan wet nails dry...
but now I understood.

“You are a sap, Kaylis. A sap who
believes in fairy tales still. Dmitri is aware of this character defect, right?
Or should I remind him?”

“He's known me for fifteen years. I'm
fairly positive that he's well acquainted with my flaws.” I looked at Jet with
a small smile pasted to my face.

“No, no, no, my friend. You guys dated
one summer in high school, parted ways for years because of Lorryn and then
make contact after life had shat down both your necks. So, more like you've
known each other seven years and still manage to be civil to each other. Off
the record, I'm mildly envious. All the guys I dated in high school turned out
to be prison fodder.”

“Fine, seven years. However, as you have
pointed out, he's seen me at my worst. He supported me through my crisis
period. There is no doubt on my mind that he is aware more than most of my
character defects.” And yet, despite what I had been through and dragging him
along for the roller coaster ride, he wanted to be with me. It looked like I
managed to cash in my karma points and get the coolest prize ever. Yay!

“He's masochistic, obviously. That you
missed his grill totally when playing uber ookie-mouth during a public moment
doesn't matter to him... or he woulda kicked you out. I know I would have.” Jet
finished the last of her orange-tinted champagne and contemplated the empty
glass for a second with a frown upon her face. It didn't take her long to
refill it with a touch more orange juice than last time.

“Thanks.” It might be true, but dammit,
sometimes the truth really hurts. I didn't hide it in my voice. Apparently my
downtrodden expression triggered a kinder, gentler Jet.

“Geez, didn't mean to get your knickers
in a twist. I was jesting. See? Ha ha. He's with you because he loves you, and
you're with him for the same reason. The fact that the gods smiled down upon
him while he served those two tours overseas and gave him the opportunity to
find you again after almost a decade should prove that to you.” She leaned back
upon the butter-soft leather and put her feet on the armrest, crossing her
narrow feet. Her green toenails made me wonder if she was hiding some sort of
fungus or other blight since it was such an ugly shade of nail polish. Almost
olive but nearly lime, it was an eyesore regardless.

“I puked on him. In public. When he
asked me to be mischief to his mayhem. That's kinda major. I don't think he was
really contemplating the possibility of vomit covering him when he and I
reconnected.”

“That's his fault for not considering
all the possibilities and repercussions of asking you to marry him. Sure, he
probably gave thought to the holdover hippie and the flock of black sheep in
your family tree, but that was probably the extent of his thought process.”

I smirked over my glass. “You are such a
ray of sunshine on an otherwise dreary day.”

Laughter broke free and she agreed with
her usual self-confidence. “Oh, I know. So are you going to do it? Gonna go
head-tripping and discover you were Elizabeth Tudor in a past life?” She licked
her cherry red lips then sipped her mimosa.

A look of contemplation graced my face
as I thought about it. “Yeah. Why not? I bet Dmitri was Robert Dudley. If not,
I can always pretend.” I saluted her with my champagne flute.

“You do know Lizzie and Dudster didn't
marry, right? She became an old, embittered harridan and he married her
cousin.”

“Jet,” I replied as patiently as I
could, “please just stop while you're ahead. You're harshing my buzz.”

She laughed. “Whatever. You're gonna
take my advice and go see the head tripper. You know you are. It's that or some
pagan and scifi influenced shindig that will incorporate things you never knew
existed.”

“You're probably right. A hundred bucks
and an hour of my time versus Willow picking out something a Klingon bride
would be proud to wear. Such a hard choice.” I mocked a sigh, Jet laughed and
we got giggly drunk before noon.

Chapter Four-

Four o'clock rolled around and Jet
sobered up enough to drive home. I walked her out to the treed semi-circle
driveway to her little purple Beemer. The hip pocket of the blue jeans I wore
began to vibrate furiously as my cell phone rang. A glace to the screen
revealed it was Willow. I flipped it opened and spoke.

“Hallo. What can I do you for?”

Her voice rushed out in a panic. “Mike
is in town. He just stopped by looking for you. Said he heard you were here. I
totally blanked and told him no, you lived off Currant Way nowadays. He left
about five minutes ago. He remembers what your car looks like. He'll find the
house.” My heart thundered harder with each word that fell out of the earpiece
and sank into my brain.

“Oh my god. Is Dmitri still there?”
Please say no, please say no, please say no.
Please tell me he left to come
home about five minutes before Mike arrived. Tell me I'll see Dmitri before
Mike...

“He came in the back as I closed the
front door. He asked me who it was, and I told him. Dmitri just left – I called
you as soon as he drove off.” My lingering buzz was gone. My free hand clutched
Jet's arm in a hermit crab-like vice grip of sobriety.

“I gotta go.” Thunder pounded in my
ears.

“Okay honey, and I'm so sorry. No more
kava-kava before ten a.m., I promise. Do you want me to call the police?”

“No, if it gets bad, I'll call them. I
don't want my private life printed in the paper. But I gotta go, Willow. I'll
call you afterward.”

I hung up and blurted to Jet, “Mike is
on his way here. Dmitri is on his tail. Please don't go. Not until Dmitri is
here. Please.” There was no coherency, just fear and the desire for something
safe and familiar to keep me sane.

She wrapped an arm around me and said,
“I won't. Fucker better not even get out of his car or he'll find a stiletto
heel buried in his eye socket, tickling his frontal cortex.”

I dreaded this moment since the day I
walked out on Mike and the history of him I never wanted to remember. I
despised myself for going to pieces whenever he entered my vicinity. But after
what he did... dammit, I can't start remembering. Dmitri will be here soon, I
reminded myself. He'll banish Mike in a way I can't.

Speak of the devil, but who turned onto
my cul de sac and made a beeline to my home? The one person I could happily
live my life without ever seeing again. His beat up Impala slowed to a halt at
the curb next to my mailbox. I saw him put it in park and take the keys out of
the ignition. He palmed the keys and went to unbuckle his seat belt. My heart
thumped and pounded something fierce against my ribcage. Fear rolled over me. I
wanted Dmitri next to me, lending me his silent strength as I addressed the
walking terror. Jet's arm was still around me. It tightened as she saw my
reaction. She hated Mike with a passion not unlike a category five hurricane.
He would do well to fear her; given a chance, she'd jump on his back like an
Amazon warrior queen and hammer the dangerously pointy heel of her sandal into
his cranium.

Mike turned and smiled at me. I did not
smile back. I was in the midst of a panic attack. He'd seen me cry too many
times. Never again. It had been five and a half years since I saw him last, and
for what I thought was the last time I'd be cursed with his company. I would
not give that man satisfaction or the notion that I enjoyed his presence. He'd
once taken all of me I had to give; I will give him no more. That included my
voice. Once upon a time I found his brown eyes inviting and his smile charming.
Now, he reminded me of the snakes he collected as pets. A member of the
constrictor family that could easily squeeze the life out of one, if caught in
his coils.

Mike's words broke the silence like a
plate thrown on cement. “Kaylis, darlin'! You're looking just as beautiful as I
remember.” The door to his car began to creep open, and Jet shoved me behind
her in a protective manner.

“Get the hell out of here, Mike. You're
like a whiff of dog shit... I don't know where you came from, but you sure as
hell aren't welcome.”

“Jetty-jet. Still anorexic, I see. I'm
here to speak with Kay bay-bay, not you.”

“She doesn't want to talk to you. Ever.
Buy a clue and get the hell out of here. I will personally call the cops if you
step out of your car.” Her voice lowered, reminding me of a lioness's growl of
warning before ripping the throat out of an interloper. A glance down to her
hands showed fingers curved and poised for eye gouging. Her threat to call the
authorities was her shot across Mike's bow. She'd call the cops, but only after
she laid him out.

“I want to hear her tell me to go away
and I will leave. Boy Scout's promise.” Mike's hand was still easing the door
open, and I feared nothing more than him getting out and approaching me.

“She doesn't need to do shit for you
anymore. Go. Now.” She was a tigress protecting her paralyzed cub.

Then, as beautiful as the sound of the
Ride of the Valkyries played by a symphony orchestra, I heard the engine of
Dmitri's blue Silverado rumbling towards us. It came fast around the turn onto
the cul de sac and lurched to a screeching halt scant inches behind the green
and primer colored Impala. Dmitri got out and came bounding towards me,
ignoring Mike.

“You okay?” Dmitri touched my shoulder
and face, looked in my eyes. I don't know what he saw, but his face darkened
and he shot a glare at Mike.

“She's fine, just shaken from Moobs over
there. He just arrived, I told him to get lost. He wanted her to tell him to
leave, but she didn't speak to him.” A part of me smiled deep inside. Moobs was
his code name for two reasons, the first and most important being that his body
went to hell and now his tits were bigger than mine. The second and much more
ironic reason was that it reflected his initials.

“I can answer for myself, Jet. Yes, I'm
fine and he won't go.” Using my peripheral vision, I could see Mike looking
agitated inside his car. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. I
could tame the wild beast of anxiety if I focused. That's what I told myself. I
felt Dmitri's arms creep around me, and I relaxed.

“I'll talk to him. Go in the house. Jet,
please go with her.”

I turned and left, not acknowledging
Mike as he bellowed after me, “Hey Kaylis, can I get your new number?”

I heard Dmitri answer, “No you can't,
but I'll give you mine if you ask real nice.”

Jet hustled me inside like a protective
mama bear. Once the door shut, she and I both took up a position by the front
window to see what was going on. My cell phone was in hand, 911 already
entered. If things got ugly, all I'd have to do is push the green call button
so I could save my Superman. Jet bounced off to the kitchen and returned with
my twelve inch cast iron fry pan in hand. Her free hand held the door knob, and
she kicked her heels off in anticipation of running Mike down and giving him a
piece of her cast iron mind. We glanced at each other and she winked. “You know
Kaylis, things are never dull when you're around.”

I couldn't take my eyes off the scene
for long. I dreaded the thought of imminent violence. My ex would be too
arrogant to know when to stop and just take the advice my fiancé would
unfailingly provide. It's not that I feared for Dmitri's life; but dealing with
small town police and the gossip mill was another thing entirely.

Mike exited his car and stood on the
sidewalk between the street and the driveway entrance. The dogwood trees
stopped swaying in the summer afternoon breeze, as if in anticipation of the
duel at hand. Dmitri stood with his arms crossed on the driveway next to my
black Grand Cherokee, no more than six feet from Mike. His black tee-shirt,
blue jeans and work boots were splattered in mud and grass clippings, his
mud-encrusted work gloves hung out of his back pocket. He was immovable as a
brick wall. Lips moved as they spoke back and forth. Then Mike said something
that caused a look of amusement to appear on Dmitri's face. When Mike was
mid-sentence, Dmitri said something that caused Mike to close his mouth and
contemplate what it was he was about to say. After a moment, I saw Mike's lips
mouth “Okay”. He turned and my heart lifted.