Page 86 of Heathens
The way he looks at me then—his hair falling over to one side, his eyes open, happy—I feel immeasurable joy. He is a gift.My undeserved treasure.
For him, I could sink my teeth into dark things, watch the fire burn and explode inside of both of us. There was magic in the way he spoke. Dark, filthy, lovely magic. Like when he kissed me, I could breathe his essence in and exhale him for days.
The meal is slow, leisurely, seductive. We eat fried squash blossoms filled with goat cheese. Bread. So much bread, floured and sour and fresh. Next is a salad—fresh mozzarella, tomato, and fat basil leaves the size of my hand. Then—pasta in a garlicky cream sauce. Chicken stuffed with artichokes and mascarpone. I can barely eat the infamous cannoli. As midnight comes and goes, people still wander the streets with cigarettes. I share a few with Salem, but for the most part, we're too enraptured with each other to even smoke. After Lucia—the owner who started this restaurant out of her home sixty years ago—sets two espressos on the table, we pay and leave, wandering the ancient streets.
We walk in the opposite direction of the car. “Where are we going?” I ask, tucking myself into his arm.
“I’m not done with you tonight,” he says, his voice vibrating straight through to my bones. “Though I would commit murder to take you against one of these alley walls, we have the rest of our lives to make love. We only have tonight in Italy.” He pulls me toward a large building spilling with people in short dresses. “We’re going dancing.”
I Will Break His Mind
Salem
Present
We don’t get back to Monaco until just after six in the morning. Lily’s asleep in the passenger seat, her legs pulled tightly into her, her face resting on her knees. I’ll never forget the smile she gave me last night as we twirled in our fancy clothes, as people stared and laughed at us for our club attire. She didn’t care, and neither did I. But her face—the sheen of sweat as we jumped to the beat, the way her eyes weresovery bright and lit up with spirit and sentience—I couldn’t help but pull her into me and kiss her. Over and over and over.
She brought me to life, and I brought her back from the dead.
She texts me while Auguste and I board the train, letting me know she packed up her things in time and was already in her cabin. I tell her to get some sleep. When we get to Paris, we’re going straight to my father’s house. Everything is fine there. Evelyn hasn’t left the spare bedroom, refusing food and water now, but responding as expected, given the situation. I’m hoping Lily can invigorate her.
I turn to Auguste, trying my best to hide the sneer from my face. “I hope you’re feeling better today, Father,” I say, balling my fists as we walk through the train cabin. I’d barely made it on time—after dropping the car back at my friend’s house, I rushed back to the hotel to pack.
“I’m doing okay,” he says, his voice solemn. “Just a small complication.”
I nod. “Anything you want to talk about?” I ask, trying to morph some sympathy into my voice.
He shakes his head and gives me a grim smile. “Not today. Thank you. How was your night?”
I shrug. “I watched some movies, ordered room service.”
Had the most amazing night with a beautiful woman.
Plotted your downfall.
“That’s nice, Salem.” His voice is distracted, far away. He wants to be back in Paris just like me, but for an entirely different reason. He turns to me again. “Do you like Father Castilian and Father Marquesa?”
I nod. “I do. They have a good vision. I’m excited to be a part of their team.”
Auguste nods. “Yes, it will be good for all of us, I think.”
I don’t respond.
* * *
Spending the rest of the train ride in and out of sleep, I text Lily when we pull into Gare de Lyon.
Go straight to my father’s house. I’ll meet you there.
She responds with a simple,Okay.
“Take the night off, Salem,” Auguste says, reaching out for my hand. A business acquaintance. When did that happen? He always pulled me into a hug before. Not that I’m complaining—I’m pretty sure I’d break his ribs if he were to hug me now. Perhaps he can sense my distance. “I’m going to take care of a few things at home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Feel better, Father. I hope you’re able to fix whatever needs fixing.”
He gives me a small smile and walks away, and I feel my eyes blaze into his back. Once I confirm that he’s taking the metro line to his apartment in the sixteenth arrondissement, I walk quickly to the taxi line. A few minutes later, as I step in, I look at the driver in the rearview mirror and give my directions.
“Notre Dame de Paris, s’il vous plaît.”
