Chapter Four: What You Don't Know...Sucks
The sunlight was coming in at an odd angle. Avery was used to it coming directly across his face in the morning, but he could feel the heat of it on his feet instead. Startled awake by this odd change, he found, upon opening his eyes, that he was sleeping on his couch. God, I had such a crazy dream last night, he thought, rolling over onto his back and forcing his eyes open to slits. Cypress was a genie! And a hot genie, at that... But wait just a minute. Why, precisely, was he sleeping on his couch? Avery didn't own a terribly comfortable couch; he preferred to avoid sleeping on it at all costs.
He rolled back onto his side and found himself staring a vase made of blue glass that was sitting on his coffee table. Shit, it wasn't a dream, he thought, sitting up and kicking aside the blanket he'd pulled over himself. I'm apparently just going crazy. What other explanation was there? It all started to come back to Avery as he wandered into the kitchen, intent upon getting some coffee to sweep the sleep cobwebs from his brain. Last night, after he'd gotten her to settle down—not to mention given her some actual clothing—Cypress had told him the whole story about her trip to Iifa and her sister drafting her into the life of a genie. It was all real. Avery knew that. But he still thought he was going crazy.
Which would have been preferable, really, to being dead, which he was about to be. He knew this because he'd just heard a key slide into the lock of his apartment door. Only one other person had his key—although not because he'd given it to her—and that was Vivian. The woman who was certain, even if he wasn't, that they were destined to be together for the rest of their lives. Well, finding Cypress in my bed might discourage her, Avery thought, mulling this over as he stirred his coffee. Then I wouldn't have to—oof!
"Viv!" he gasped, shaking hot coffee from his fingers. "Please let go."
"Good morning, Avey," Vivian cooed, ignoring his words completely. "Are you happy to see me?"
No, Avery thought. "Of course I am," he said, wriggling out of her grasp. "Although it's um...early. I mean, I didn't expect you this early."
"You forgot?" Vivian pouted up at him, the picture of a spoiled, upper-middle class woman. "We've got to go grocery shopping, silly. My parents are coming to dinner tonight."
"Tonight? Here?" Avery asked, starting to feel panicked. How had he forgotten this? He never forgot these things.
Vivian planted her hands on her hips and frowned at him. "Yes, here," she said, giving him a seriously disapproving look. "I left message about it on your cell phone last night. You never picked up."
Oh. So he wasn't just dead, he was DEAD. All capitals. Because it was true, Avery had ignored his cell phone when it rang last night; all fifty times. Of course he'd realized that it was Vivian. He'd figured that, owing as to how he'd been trying to comfort a girl who'd suddenly become his own personal genie, he'd had a right to ignore her calls. Unfortunately, as Vivian often did, when she couldn't get him to give her an answer on something, she answered for him. I really need to learn to put my foot down, Avery thought, abandoning his coffee and following her into the living room. Because I sure as hell don't need this right now.
The other thing he didn't need was for Cypress to come wandering out of his bedroom at just that moment. So naturally she did. She was wearing one of his old Iron Maiden t-shirts, which was admittedly a step up from the little wisps of silk she'd arrived in. You know, if I weren't about die a very horrible death, Avery thought, tilting his head just slightly as he studied her, I'd probably start thinking on how cute she looks like that. Thank god he'd gotten the t-shirt a couple sizes too large, though (he'd been sixteen at the time, after all). At least it hung nearly to her knees, and the sleeves came down far enough to cover the gold bands on her upper arms. Vivian was going to be pissed enough without thinking he'd gone and joined some twisted Master/slave sex cult.
Cypress stood in the middle of the living room, blinking at them both. Not because she couldn't see—she'd told him she didn't appear to need her glasses anymore. Avery noticed that she looked half-horrified and half-amused. And why not? he thought, watching Vivian stomp over to her. I'd probably be laughing too if a munchkin was trying to intimidate me. Because that was what Vivian, who was five foot and zip, looked like in comparison to Cypress.
"Who are you?" Vivian demanded. "And why are you in my fiancé's apartment?"
Cypress handled herself with surprising aplomb. "My name is Cypress," she said, "and I'm a friend of Avery's. He just let me crash here tonight cause I had this big fight with my girlfriend and I had nowhere else to go."
"In his t-shirt?" Vivian asked, although the girlfriend comment seemed to take all the wind out of her sails.
"This," Cypress said, plucking at the t-shirt, "is mine."
She turned on her heel and went back into her bedroom, leaving Vivian gaping in surprise. Knowing how Vivian felt about lesbians, Avery put an arm around her shoulders and smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring way. That was some seriously quick thinking, he thought, glancing over his shoulder at the bedroom door. But she...she doesn't really have a girlfriend, does she? No way. It was just something she'd said to throw Vivian off the scent. Some might say that Cypress' aversion to men was a sure sign of lesbianism, but Avery knew better; Cypress had an aversion to everyone. She'd pretty much told him so, last night.
