“You need to get ready for work, young lady.”
She rolled off me and looked up at the ceiling. “Ugh, Tracey.”
“I know, I agree. She’s unbearable.”
“Isn’t she? She’s so full of herself.”
“Just stick it out a little longer. She knows the right people.”
“You’re the first person who has told me to wait it out with Tracey. But you’re right—it’s the only sensible thing to do. Everyone is always saying I should ditch her.”
“I have your best interest in mind. I’m not always going to tell you what you want to hear.”
“I get that.” She leaned in and kissed me. “I like your honesty.” She reached behind me, and then with a grim look, she handed me a feather. “Another one.”
When I reached for it, it disintegrated. Jesus, really? This is how it’s gonna be?
“Why don’t you ride in the car with me?” she suggested, pulling me out of my head.
“Okay.”
On the way to work, I had to tell Evey to slow down twenty times. She drives like a maniac. That driving instructor she’d had when she was sixteen was terrible. If I hadn’t had intervened, she’d be dead by now.
“Don’t be a backseat driver,” she said.
“I taught you better than this.”
“You didn’t teach me; my dad taught me.”
“I became your driving instructor after the first lesson when I realized Mr. Willis didn’t know what he was doing. I became him for your behind-the-wheel lessons.”
“What?” She looked shocked. “You put your hand on my leg and squeezed it during the last session. I thought he was a total perv.”
“I did not!”
“You did too!” She looked at me pointedly.
“Eyes on the road, Evey.”
When we got to the warehouse, I said, “I’ll just sit in here and be invisible.”
“Won’t you be bored?”
I laughed hysterically. “This is what I’ve always done, and yeah, it’s boring as fuck.”
“Come in with me. Meet Tracey for real. She’ll love you. You have a perfect body for design.”
I frowned. “I’m not letting her dress me up.”
“Then let me.”
We walked in through the large roll-up door. There were tables and material scraps everywhere, and in the corner was a huge roll of denim. Tracey was talking to another assistant, who scurried away when Evey and I came in.
“Who’s this beautiful man?” Tracey said while she stared me up and down.
“This is my boyfriend, Lucian.”
“He’s your boyfriend?” she asked with more shock than spite.
“Yes,” Evey said, “he’s my boyfriend.”
Tracey wasn’t unlike Brooklyn in that she would probably be forever single, but she didn’t want to be. That was the difference. She was aging fast, approaching her mid-forties, and still had no serious male prospects. Part of the reason was that she emasculated and objectified men in a really disgusting way, much like she was doing to me presently.
“Take off your shirt,” she said to me.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you shy or something? You got little boy chest under that tee?”
I was still me, okay? I couldn’t resist. I pulled off my T-shirt and threw it to the side. I had left my belt and boxers at Evey’s, so there wasn’t much material left to hide anything. I didn’t even bother pulling up my hanging jeans. They covered the important part.
“Jesus, lord,” Tracey said. People really needed to stop saying that. I was starting to get a complex. She looked at Evey. “He’s perfect. Perfect shoulder width, sculpted jaw and abs, narrow hips.” She turned to me. “How tall are you? What’s your inseam?”
“Six two. Maybe thirty-five inseam.”
Evey came over and whispered in my ear, “You’re eating this up.”
“I have a plan,” I whispered back. I knew which items Evey had designed, but to Tracey, it was my first time in the warehouse.
Tracey left and then came back over with a stack of jeans and some T-shirts. I really had no shame. When I dropped my jeans, Tracey and the assistant lurking behind her froze. They went slack-jawed.
Evey, standing next to me, looked over and said, “Really, Lucian?”
“Well, he’s definitely not shy.” Tracey approached Evey and said, “How’d you land him?”
I slipped on a pair of jeans that I knew Tracey had designed because they were hideous. I shook my head, pulled them off, and dug around for a pair that Evey had worked on. “These are perfect.”
“Evey, we have a photographer coming,” Tracey said as she ran to the phone. “I’m canceling the other model. Lucian, how do you feel about making an easy grand?”
“Why not? But I only want to be photographed in these jeans.” I pointed at Evey’s.
Tracey was a ball-buster. “Well then, I better keep the other model on. Your pay just went down to two hundred.”
“Fine by me,” I said, although I wondered how I was going to get money now that I had been cut off from Mona and the higher-ups. No, Lucian, you are not going to model Tracey’s jeans.
The photographer only took about four shots of me. I kept my head down as much as I could, wondering what would happen to the photograph after I was gone. Would it just go poof like the rest of me? Was that my fate?
After we were done, Evey pressed her warm hand to my cheek. Looking into my eyes, she said, “Thank you. She would have never photographed the other model in those jeans.” I smiled but suddenly felt too weak to talk. “Are you okay, Lucian? You look pale.”
“I need to eat. Low blood sugar.”
“Oh yeah, you have that crazy metabolism,” she said.
But the truth was that angels didn’t need to eat. We could eat and enjoyed eating, but nothing happened if we didn’t. I was feeling weak because I was getting sick or starving, something I had never experienced.
“Come on,” I said, “let’s go get lunch.”
“Tracey, is it all right if I do some sketches at home and take the rest of the day off?”
“Two days in a row, huh?” Tracey asked.
I think both Evey and I had forgotten she’d missed the day before.
“I’ll email you sketches tonight, I promise,” Evey said.
Tracey quirked an eyebrow at me. “As long as he’s the subject.”
I rolled my eyes.
Once in the car, Evey asked where I wanted to go to lunch and I told her anywhere, so we ended up at her favorite Japanese restaurant. I had spent many Saturday nights hovering in the corner while Brooklyn and Evey drank sake with one random imbecile or another.
I felt a tiny bit better after eating, and I had no idea why. Back at Evey’s apartment, Brooklyn was sitting on the couch when we walked in. She was still in college, on the ten-year plan. She spent most days on the couch, surrounded by a pile of books I knew she hadn’t read. Studying, she called it. Her parents pretty much supported her and probably would for the rest of her life.
“Hey guys,” she said. “Do we need to start charging you rent, Lucian?”
“He’s not feeling well, Brooke. He’s gonna go lie down for a bit in my room while I work on some sketches.”
“Oh, right, I’m sure that’s what you guys will be doing.”
“Shut up, Brooklyn,” I blurted.
She turned around to look at me. “What is your problem, weirdo?”
I kept forgetting that she had only just met me. “Nothing, I’m sorry. I’m really cranky.”
“Come on,” Evey said as she pulled me down the hall.
I WAS SKETCHING on the small drafting table in my bedroom while Lucian rested on the bed. My mind was somewhere else. I had spent an hour sketching and had nothing to show for it but a pile of crumbled up papers at my feet. I couldn’t focus. All I could think about was how strangely Lucian was acting. I had to remind myself that he was an angel and this was uncharted territory. I wond
ered at what point I would start to freak out. How was I so accepting of this reality?
I looked at him and noticed his eyes were closed. “Lucian?”
He didn’t move. When I sat on the edge of the bed, he stirred before opening his eyes. He blinked a few times and then opened his eyes very wide. “I just fell asleep,” he said, in shock.
“Weird. Does this mean you’re becoming a human?” My voice was hopeful.
“I don’t know. I have to find Mona tonight.” He kept saying that, but nothing seemed to be getting answered. He stood and spread his massive wings while laughing. I couldn’t tell if he was shocked or excited about the fact that he had fallen asleep. “Well, those are still there. That’s good, I guess,” he said.
“Don’t you want to be human, Lucian?”
He stared at me for several long seconds. “I don’t think that’s how it works. I’m going to have to find out more info.” He focused his attention on the bed then laughed again.
“What?” I said.
“I had a dream. It was so strange.”
I fully expected him to tell me about a dream that would reveal something really important, but he just continued to laugh. He buckled over, holding his hand to his stomach. I could no longer see his wings, and he just looked like an average guy, standing there in a fit of uncontrollable laughter. Above average guy, I should say.
“Tell me about it, Lucian.”
“I think it was actually a nightmare, but it was hilarious.”
“Oh no, what was it?” I asked.
“I was being chased, then I got eaten by a giant chocolate chip cookie.”
“What? That’s really dumb.”
When he fell onto the bed laughing, I joined him in the hysteria. He tried to calm down but was still chuckling when he said, “I was actually really scared. Dreams are weird.” He was experiencing the world anew.
“So that’s the first one you’ve ever had?”
“Yes. How can you humans handle being part of something that is completely out of your control? I couldn’t even control my own body.”
“Well, it’s not real, obviously. Otherwise, you would have been eaten by a cookie and you wouldn’t be lying here talking to me.”
“No, I know.” He turned on his side, cupped my cheek and ran his thumb over my lower lip. His eyes were fixated on my mouth. He looked thoughtful and curious. “I guess I’m still trying to figure things out. It’s so confusing.”
When I leaned in to kiss him, he rolled onto his back. I straddled his waist as he unbuttoned my shirt. Pushing it off my shoulders, he said, “I want to look at you.”
“You’ve seen me.”
He laughed. “I want permission to look at you.”
I got up from the bed. “You saw me that night with Keith… or you saw me when you were Keith. And when you were Brooklyn that day. And you saw me last night and this morning.”
“I did,” he said, smiling serenely.
“That night after the concert… I’m not usually like that. I—”
“I know you’re not, Evey. Come here.”
I slowly undressed myself, and then stood next to the bed and removed Lucian’s shirt and jeans. The whole time he watched me with an intensity I had never seen in a person. “You have full permission to look at me now,” I told him.
“I’m literally dying to,” he said, and it was as though a needle had gone coasting across the face of a record. He had put emphasis on the word literally.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Come here.”
“Are you being funny, or are you actually dying? Are you dying so that you can be with me? Is that the sacrifice?” Tears came rushing to my eyes. I was naked and vulnerable, confused and hurting. I had only just met him, but I had known him my whole life. There was so much comfort in being with a person who already knew all of my flaws, but his confession made me feel something I hadn’t felt with him—fear. “Answer me.”
“I don’t know for sure,” he replied.
“I’ll cut my wrists.” I had never said anything like that to anyone. I had never had a suicidal thought.
His eyes went wide. “Stop it, Evey! Don’t say that. Anyway, there are better ways to go.” He tried to make light of it. Tears went running down my cheeks. He pulled me onto the bed and held me. That familiar sensation of feeling safe and loved coursed through me. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t funny,” he said.
I started to cry full, quiet sobs. “I can’t live without you.”
“You just met me. I’m a terrible drunk. I’m a jerk. I’m a womanizer.”
“That’s not going to work on me. I know what you’re trying to do,” I told him in a strong voice. “You have to take me. You have to take my life.” I couldn’t believe what I was saying. Would I really die for him? I guess I trusted I would be with him if I did.
He stood and covered me with the blanket. “Don’t move. I need to do something.”
“Don’t leave. You said you wouldn’t leave.”
He stood in the middle of the room and looked up at the ceiling. “God, do you see this? God, do you see what’s happening to Evey?” Lucian still focused on the ceiling, nodded as though someone was talking to him. “I know she’s out of her mind. She doesn’t realize it won’t work. I know, God. I have to leave her alone. I know what I have to do.”
“You’re a liar!” I got up, held the blanket to my body and pointed at him. “You’re lying. You said you don’t talk to him and he doesn’t talk to you.”
“Evey, please calm down.” He was sweating. I’d never seen him sweat.
“I think you need to calm down.” He swayed and gripped the table next to him to steady himself. “Lie down with me, Lucian. You don’t look well.”
“I can’t handle you talking the way you were talking.”
I saw the fear in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I won’t do it again,” I told him.
He stumbled back to the bed and pulled me down with him. We wrapped ourselves around one another, legs and arms and mouths. I didn’t know anymore where I ended and he began. We were lost in each other. The truth of what was happening was too much for us to think about. All we could do was try to comfort one another.
We dozed off at four in the afternoon. Around six, I got up and left a sleeping Lucian, so I could go into the kitchen and make lunch for us. When I came back with a turkey sandwich on a plate, he groggily opened his eyes and smiled.
I held out the plate. “Hungry?”
He eyed the sandwich for a moment before slowly taking the plate from my hands. “Thank you, Evelyn.” He wasn’t used to someone taking care of him.
“How are you feeling?”
“A lot better. I guess after a couple of thousand years, I was due for a little nap.”
“Are we going to talk about what happened earlier?” I said.
He held the sandwich out to me, smiling. “Bite?”
I shook my head. “Don’t try to change the subject.”
“I don’t want you talking about killing yourself ever again.” His tone was unwavering. “I don’t know what’s happening. I’ll find out more. But for now, I want to enjoy every minute I have with you.”
“Because you don’t know how much time we have?” I asked.
“Because no one knows how much time they have, and I am in love with you and I want to love you right now, Evey, no matter what happens.”
It was time to change the subject. The unknown was too terrifying to ponder for any length of time. I wiped mustard from his beautiful lip. “Eat your sandwich. Maybe we can catch a movie after this.”
He smiled. “No chick flicks though. I went from being forced to watch kid movies to teen angst to chick flicks. I want to see a thriller or one of those superhero movies.”
I rolled my eyes, laughing. My sweet Lucian, like a little boy. He’d been subjected to everything I had wanted to do for so long. He was finally getting a chance to make some decisions, and I loved watching him experie
nce that freedom. “Anything you want,” I said. His face lit up.
I found another feather on the floor of my bedroom that day but didn’t mention it to him. As I picked it up, it turned to dust in my hand. I wondered if that was eventually what was to come for him.
IN THE CAR, on the way to the movies, Lucian drove, and it felt like we were normal people going on a date.
“Can I ask you something without you getting upset?”
“Sure,” he said.
“If you kill me, I’ll become like you and everything will be okay?”
“I don’t know, Evey. That’s just what I heard from Zack. Half the time, he’s full of shit. If I die, you won’t remember me. I will be forgotten, and you’ll go on with your life and get a new angel that doesn’t break all the rules. You’ll find someone to marry. A normal man,” he said, in a low voice. “You’ll have babies.” He glanced over at me and smiled, but his eyes were full of pain. “Your fashion line will take off, and everything will be great. You’re a good person. I have faith that good things will happen for you.”
“But I want you, Lucian. No one else.” I perked up and tried to lighten the mood. “I have my own theory about what’s happening to you.”
“What’s that?”
“I think you’re becoming like me… human.”
“Maybe,” he said absently. “Naps and food—I’m like a regular guy, aren’t I?”
“Way hotter though,” I said, and we laughed.
EVEN THOUGH I wanted to crawl into bed with Evey and sleep the night away, I knew I had to get more answers. I set up a fake Tinder account with a picture that blocked out my face but showed my shirtless body. I swiped right on Abigail’s picture and waited. She responded. We planned to meet in room 212 at the St. Francis.
During magic hour, I rushed to the hotel, hoping to get into the room before her; otherwise, I was sure she wouldn’t open the door. When she knocked, I swung the door open, yanked on her arm, and pulled her inside.
“Oh, you,” she barked.
“Just shut it. I need to talk to you. I need some help.”
“You look like shit.”
I rolled my eyes. “Thanks.”
“Why should I help you?”