Christie finished the small container of yogurt she held, still hoping to talk Amber out of her plans for the evening.
"It will be hot, rowdy and crowded. Wouldn't you rather stay here and give ourselves a manicure? It would be so relaxing. I picked up this gorgeous little pink polish yesterday at a fabulous price and it'd—"
"No." Amber sighed, rolling her eyes in exasperation. "We are going to the damned Greek festival and that's it. If I have to drag your skinny ass there by your hair, you will come along. There's a beer and booze tent, tons of foreign college guys here for the summer, and we'll all get so drunk we won't remember what we did. It will be fanfuckingtastic! I need to indulge in some Bacchanalian debauchery tonight. My loins require the sacrifice of seminal fluid, and I won't be happy until I get some cock. Now, go change, girl. Twilight approaches and we're... Well... I'm on a mission. And I won't leave you here alone."
Realizing that further resistance was futile, Christie got up from the bar that served as their dining table and reluctantly sulked off into her bedroom, irritated that her friend's never-ending quest for sex always seemed to get in the way of a potentially peaceful evening.
All the smoky bars, meat-market clubs and local events they could endure were theirs for the taking, and Amber saw no need to pass any of them up. But, to Christie's way of thinking, Amber could just as easily attend these outings alone. However, to Christie's extreme displeasure, she refused on most occasions. It took Christie's period or job schedule to sway her, and even then she campaigned for company though the chances of Christie coming along didn't exist.
This event in particular had been one she put off—she associated it with her late lover and former best friend, Jake. The wound was still not fully healed, and she found herself easing back into events she associated with him with painful slowness, unable to quite move on, although she knew she must at some point. Their favorite restaurant had been unbearable for her for nearly six months after she lost him. But, recently, she had been able to go in for coffee and a dish of fruit and not burst into tears. Amber was merely trying to expedite the process by the means she felt would bring about Christie's recovery, never mind how hard it was for Christie along the way.
Scraping hangers along the rod in her closet, Christie selected an outfit for comfort, not conquest. A simple white tank dress that didn't accentuate her curves but flared at the hips, a pair of low-heeled white strappy sandals, and a basic ponytail was the outfit of choice.
She applied a bit of mascara, lip-gloss and very lightly misted herself with an inoffensive floral perfume. Giving herself a once-over in the mirror behind her bedroom door, she nodded, satisfied, and braced herself for the onslaught of criticism from her best friend and roommate.
"No. No, honey..." Amber's pale blue eyes briefly scanned Christie's reflection in the mirror like a mother chastising an incorrigible child while she continued to apply her own war paint. Christie's nostrils were assaulted by Amber's "Come and Get It" perfume, and her eyes were drawn to the "porno lips" Amber had applied with a crimson lip pencil that was so dark it was almost black. "You don't want to go out in that! You look like Barbie without the slut factor. We can—"
"I'm comfortable, and this is the only way I'm going," said Christie, folding her arms over her diminutive bosom and leaning against the door jamb as she waited for her friend to finish her make-up. "I'm going to have some awesome Greek cuisine, maybe a little wine, and then I'm coming back here. So, if you're going to bring some poor piece of man-meat home, can you at least wait to fuck him until you two are in your room?"
"Amateur," Amber mused, tossing her hair out of her eyes as she tended to her pencil-thin brows. "You just don't get laid enough."
Perhaps this was true. After she lost Jake to that damned boating accident last summer, her interest in men in general and sex in specific had curled itself up like a blossoming flower in reverse. She was snug in a tiny green bud that never felt the warming sunlight of desire or the life-giving rain of lust. She just didn't feel ready, and knew that it would be a long time until she was. Jake had shared so many of her firsts, and she was in no hurry to forget that.
***
A troupe of gorgeous belly dancers took the outdoor stage and began to sway and thrust to some sultry Arabic Trip Hop that boomed from several high-quality outdoor speakers. The more seductive music had helped the tone of the Greek Festival change from one of family fun to a more adult affair. Wine was consumed more freely, and a younger crowd, dressed to stay cool and impress, replaced the harried families that had dominated earlier.
Christie sipped, from a plastic cup, a nondescript red wine provided by a local vineyard. She watched beautifully costumed women from varying ethnic backgrounds. The audience began to applaud a rhythm for them, and the leader of the troupe smiled appreciatively as she moved with her girls.
Amber had ditched her for a group of young Asian college guys an hour earlier, and they had been separated by the crowd. The sky was a velvet veil of ebony above the festival, and the mouth-watering aroma of spicy lamb and garlic wafted through the air, attempting to entice her already-full belly.
She was bored. She had visited the palm reader. She had visited the beaded jewelry display. She had even gone back for seconds because the food was just that delicious. But that had been two hours ago, and she was burning through her allotted amount of cash, and getting more intoxicated than she would have preferred.
She wove through the crowd, away from the stage and out towards the less densely crowded parts of the festival site. Here the noise crowd was softer, and the air had a freshness that only occurred on balmy June nights when the earth had awakened and embraced the warmth. There were play areas for children, with slides and climbing toys along with patches of grass that would be shaded by majestic trees in the hot afternoon sunlight. It was to here that she intended to retreat, to sit with her wine, to watch the merriment of those around her, and to try not to think of the summer that she and Jake had attended the same festival, kissing almost the entire time and speculating on their future together.
Her eyes were fixed heavenward, contemplating the slow, sleepy clouds that were moving in profusion across the sky. They looked heavy and promised rain with the humidity in the air. That was just as well, she figured. It would give her a reason to cut out early. Amber had given her the keys "...just in case I have other plans.". She had enough money for a cab if she had to use one, but hoped she would be able to drive herself home.
A vaguely familiar scent tickled her nose, and she tried to place it as it grew in strength. Licking her lips, she closed her eyes and tried to think clearly through the haze of alcohol that was clouding her mind and making her body tingle. Club. Goth club. She had smelled this scent at a local microscopic Goth club when Amber and a few of her rebellious-artsy-brooding girlfriends had convinced her to go drinking back in March. It was...
Just inches from her left ear she heard the unmistakable crackle of someone dragging on a Djarum clove cigarette. She hadn't even noticed that someone had seated themselves beside her on the concrete slab bench. Not wanting to appear rude, she turned to offer the new comer some idle conversation to pass the time.
"Your friend left with a carful of guys who didn't speak English." The man next to her shrugged. A piercing in his brow caught the light from a nearby pavilion. Seeing the concern rapidly manifesting upon her pretty features, he quickly added, "Sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out. But I saw you two arrive together, and I saw her leave, like an hour ago."
"Ummmm..." Christie was speechless. Her eyes were too busy taking in every inch of the individual beside her.
And individual was an appropriate word . She did not see people like him every day, especially with the company she kept. He was very pale. His complexion seemed as if it was kept away from any sunlight at all costs. He had a brow piercing and a nose piercing, and she thought she caught the glint of a tongue piercing as he spoke in a low, expressive voice. He wore a black, button-up, short-sleeve shirt, black slacks, and black boots. His arms were covered with tattoos, and he smelled of clove and something woody and sensual. Sandalwood, perhaps?
"Well at least she left the car for me. Good thing I took the keys just in case."
