A Toast to Starry Nights (6 page)

“Have you picked a date yet? The party
on the Fourth is doubling as our engagement party. When announced, having a
date would be a nice thing to have on hand. Plus I would like to have the date
available to tell my folks so they can make arrangements.”

No magical date resided in my mind. “I
have no clue, Dmitri. How about you? When would you like to have it?” The fact
he wanted to be with me for life was enough. Why must we pick a date right now?
It's been less than a week after the proposal... can't I enjoy being engaged a
while before taking on wedding planning?

“That's a female task. You pick
everything out, and I just show up on time.” He grinned. “I will abide by what
ever you choose. Just pick soon.” He gestured toward the worktable that took up
a hefty chunk of floor space. “So... did you still want me to refill your
prescription, Doctor?”

“No. Not at the moment. Hit me up later
if you want, but I'm really not in the mood right now.”

He didn't expect that, since I've never
said no or failed to respond to his advances before. Dmitri's brow furrowed for
a moment. “But you'll be in the mood later?”

“I dunno, I'm not a fortune teller. I'm
positive I lack any sort of precognition ability, else I would have known Jet
would go behind my back to get a hold of my manuscript. But I may mellow out
later and be more receptive to your moves. I'm not making any promises,
Dmitri.”

He gave me a short, hard look. I saw his
square jaw lock before he turned around and left without a word. The blue dutch
door shut behind him with a soft click.

I went to my iPod stereo and blasted TV
on the Radio's cover of “Bela Lugosi's Dead” and drifted over to my drafting
table. From the shelf above it, I took down a sketchbook and an old coffee can
filled with markers to try and sketch the border design for Willow's quilt. My
mind was a blank until the stains on my skin caught my attention. Blue and pink
melded into purple weals that ran in tributaries down my lower arms. I sought
out the ReDuRan tube and squeezed a wet plop onto my damp palm. Purple turned
opaque gray and washed away in a deluge of tepid water.

My heart felt like a wasteland.

Dammit.

Chapter Six-

“I can totally tell you used spell
check. I am impressed, Kaylis. Good job.” If I could bottle that sarcasm, I'd
make my fortune. Monday afternoons are always more fun with a touch of Jet.

Gracious as a spring day, she was.
Dmitri must have narked to her about me getting miffed. Still in a funk and
feeling somewhat facetious myself, I tried to take the high road. “I'm thrilled
you like the attention paid to spelling. Glad I could bedazzle you with my
mastery of the word processing program and its features.” I focused on diluting
my silk dyes in small plastic cups.

Her voice echoed through my head. “Your
bitchiness is now what's bedazzling. I say three short sentences, and wow,
saucer of milk for table one. Put those claws away, kitty. I want to talk about
this novel you wrote.”

It was coming, my impending sense of
doom foretold. Here comes the verbal red pen and the no-holds-barred draw and
quartering of plot, theme and execution. I heaved a deep sigh and uttered,
“Bring it on.”

The green streaks were gone from her
hair, which hung around her down-turn face. Jet worked to stretch a three by
five foot silk scarf in a standing frame as part of her silk painting lesson.
With precision, she made sure it was evenly stretched along the perimeter.

“I liked it. Never thought of Lazarus in
that context, but cool. And I loved the research you did with ossuaries. I
looked them up to see if you fabricated them-- history for the win! So again,
way cool. I really, really liked Lisbet in general and how she and the evil
vampire bitch played off each other. I have a few suggestions for some choppy
bits, but all in all, I think it's really good. You'll probably piss off the
Papacy if you ever get published and noticed, but let's not count your chicks
before they hatch. But I will say you've definitely improved.” She picked up
the gigantic sumi brush and waved it like a magic wand.

I laid the brush down on the workbench
and stepped away from the standing frame. I plopped onto my stool and took in
what exactly she just said. Was she high? Where was the mocking critique
telling me of the awesomeness of Tolstoy, Austin and Plato and how I'd never
compare? She
liked
it? Jet's giggle spilled into my ear and irked me
something fierce.

“Don't laugh, I'm not speechless yet.
Are you loaded?” My voice possessed a touch of wonder, a hint of whimsy and
plenty of sass.

“You had me worried there for a moment.
I was sure I heard crickets chirping. And no, not loaded. Loquacious, but not
loaded.” So it wasn't just Diet Coke in her cup. Drambuie was known to make Jet
loquacious.

The incredulous breath of mine hadn't
abated, and felt the need to ask just so I was on the same page as her. “You
really liked it?” It wasn't my intention for my voice to sound so soft and
hope-filled, but as much as I wish it wasn't so, her opinion did matter. I'll
give credit where credit is due and Jet loved books more than mankind. Her
thumbs up could very well be my Pulitzer.

“Yeah. When did you write that story and
why the hell have you never told me about it? How could you not think I'd love
it? The whole Mary of Magdalene twist was nice. It's like Dan Brown and Anne
Rice bore a bastard child and ditched it in the desert to rot under cynicism.
I'm seriously pissed you kept this under wraps.”

“I started writing it right before
Dmitri and I finally hooked up... Why did you go behind my back and ask him for
one of my works?”

I should have known better than to query
the Book Wench.

I should have known.

“Because I am tired of being told 'No'
by you. Kaylis, I don't know if you're aware that your eyes narrow and you get
a little wrinkle above your nose when you tell me no... Your forehead gets all
raisin-wrinkly, too. I've looked when you've told Dimi no, and that wrinkle
just isn't there. It's like a crater on the moon that only appears by magic
when I talk to you. So I'm sticking my figurative flag in that crater and
calling those wrinkles collectively the Jetnia Phenomenon when they appear.
They are mine. All mine. Don't start giving them to Dmitri just because he
pissed you off something fierce. Don't be mad at him. I brought Dmitri to the
dark side with promise of cookies. Chocolate chip ones. He's got them stashed
in the garage, by the way.

“And you know what? That manuscript I
was looking at is just about done. Let's break out the sandpaper and make it
smooth. So just think, time to start planning that wedding in earnest. About
two week's worth of hard work with me cracking the whip, and you'd fulfill your
potential sugar mama obligations to Mr. Branimir. I am offering my services to
you. I want to see this completed because I have to do my Maid of Honor duty,
and I'd like to get that over and done with while I'm still young.”

Wow. I don't know why I'd ever expect
Jet to respect the sanctity of my written word, but it galled me that she
justified going over my head because I kept denying her. What made her think
I'd be any happier knowing my wishes were violated? She wondered why I spawned
a wrinkle just for her? And here I was thinking the answer obvious. Silly me.

“Did Dmitri consent to scheme with you
so the wedding would happen faster?” It was a hunch. The man was an old school
traditionalist at heart and preferred action to contemplation. A long
engagement isn't something he'd entertain. I was also curious since normally he
respected my work area. He liked computers but never got comfortable with my
laptop. He'd find a reason to use the desktop in the office rather than pull up
whatever YouTube video on my dainty purple laptop ever-so-close at hand.

Her voice was nonchalant. “Something
like that.”

I thought for a moment. “Are you telling
me that he conspired with you to make the wedding happen faster, before he
proposed to me?” My mind whirled at the thought. Did not enjoy the panic that
buzzed through my head with the realization my wedding day will be here as soon
as possible with the antics of Jet and Dmitri. Panic is not a good thing to
feel when thinking about one's nuptial day. A sinking feeling in my stomach
intensified and spread throughout my being.

It was her turn for an obligatory moment
of silence before she spoke in low tones. “You
are good
, Kaylis.”

I don't like being manipulated by those
I thought of as caring for me. I don't like my best friend and my hunny
co-conspiring behind my back about how to get me to finish a novel and get to
the alter in a rush. It felt like an intrusion and violation of the deal Dmitri
and I made long before he proposed.. I wanted to sell a manuscript before I
ever got married. Being forced to live the reality of that didn't sit well. I
wanted it on my terms, not theirs.

I also resented that the little written
haven I created was pillaged by the she-pirate before I was ready to share it
with the world. But she thought it was good... I'd take a look at the
suggestions she most likely already prepared. And when it was done, I'd muster
the courage to try and see if the publishing world thought it was worthy. Might
get published, might not... but either way, it'd be accomplished. Dmitri would
get his wedding date and Jet would get to pat herself on the back for a job
well done before she bore resemblance to a dehydrated grape.

“I am good, and don't you forget it. As
for the work of mine you finagled, fine. Wave your magic red pen. I will bow
down to your wisdom in all things literary. And once you've gone to town
jacking off that red pen all across my manuscript, you can then figure out the
next step for me to take since it seems I'm incapable of doing it myself. Plus
I would hate for you to grow raisin-wrinkly before I ever go wedding dress
shopping. I'm going to rely upon your biting sarcasm for each frock I plan to
try on. And I'll make you wear one too. See how you like it.”

“Oooh you've really got your knickers in
a twist over this, don't you? I'm sorry I batted my eyes and waved fresh-baked
cookies under Dmitri's nose so I could get my hands on some bathroom reading
material. And I'm sooo fucking sorry that I want to see you take it to the next
level because,
egad
, I believe in your abilities. Time to wear your
ovaries on the outside like a big girl, Kaykay. Just say the word, and I'll
take it to the next level. As a wedding gift to you. Put on your big girl underoos
and let's do this.”

In silence I thought about what she
offered. Pride aside, I don't know when she'd ever offer me her services with
so little shit-giving. I'd be a fool to spurn her generosity. It was as easy as
that. Equilibrium regained, I got off my ass and resumed painting. The wide
wash brush lurked in the jar of water. I used it to wet the silk before I
started applying the dye. Poppy red flowed from the sumi brush, giving color to
the roses I painted with a new found zen-like attitude. She waited with the
patience of a Shaolin monk.

“Okay. We'll do it.”

Her laugh tinkled through the air.
“Awesome! I knew you could be reasoned with. Dimi thought you were gonna tell
me where to shove that red pen and then a few other choice random acts of
buggery before my head imploded from the Wrath of Kaylis.”

“You promised me back in art school that
you'd never make a Star Trek reference within my earshot. For thirteen years
you kept it.”

“I couldn't help myself. And let's look
at it this way- Khan is only one syllable. 'Wrath of Bitch' would've been much
more worthy of getting pissy. You haven't said that you'll forgive your man. He
just wants to leg shackle himself before you get into any more trouble. It's a
strictly a preventative measure that includes tax breaks. ”

“I already forgave him. I just don't
like my computer's inner sanctum violated. It's like Vikings pillaging a
convent.”

“Don't lie to me Kaylis...I know you
gave him the cold shoulder.” As she spoke, she added a silver resist line from
a tiny squeeze bottle. It was a trick I taught her to incorporate her mistake
as another petal on an ever-growing rose. Her nose almost touched the fabric as
she intently stared down the barrel of the bottle in her intensely focused way.

Now I was pissed. Why the hell was he
telling her everything? “He told you I denied him? I didn't give him the cold
shoulder... I just told him 'not now', as in I was fucking irate at the time. I
gave him the opportunity to hit me up later. He didn't. Dmitri even went so far
as to sleep on the couch at his own behest.” It wasn't necessary to tell her I
missed his presence beside me.

She held up her hand to pause my tirade
while she used the blow dryer to dry her recent resist addition. When the line
was ready, she turned off the dryer, leveled a hard stare in my direction and
spoke. “It's a damn comfortable couch. Can't blame him to prefer comfort
instead of sleeping next to a harpy.”

“I may be many things, but harpy is not
one of them.” A line of blue and a stroke of yellow; my rose now had a shaded
stem.

“You worship that man, Kaylis. You adore
him. You overlook the little shit that would bug the hell out of me, and focus
on the big picture... that's admirable, to a point. The man isn't perfect, and
yes, he does things that piss you off behind your back... but he gives a damn
about you and your happiness.”