Soul Mates Page 10
“My head is spinning. I don’t know what to say.”
“You said ‘yes,’ which is the only word that matters to me right now.”
She smiled. He took her by the hand to the bedroom where they made love again. She was quiet and wanted him to control their lovemaking, and he did everything he could to make it special for her.
* * *
That evening, after they had recovered from the proposal and Alannah headed home, Jeremiah’s phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Hi, it’s Martin.”
Martin Stang was Jeremiah’s agent. He worked almost entirely by e-mail, and it was rare for him to pick up the phone and call. Jeremiah couldn’t recall the last time they’d actually spoken.
Even the first time they had connected to do business together, it’d been by e-mail. Martin had watched Jeremiah perform in Pontiac, Michigan, at a small night club. He’d only been performing for a couple of years at that point and was still a little clumsy with some of his tricks, but Martin saw the dedication and commitment, and he believed.
“Good to hear from you, Martin. Is this an early Christmas greeting?”
Martin didn’t laugh. He was always serious, no matter what, and Jeremiah had never heard him make a joke or send an LOL in an e-mail.
“You won’t believe this.”
“Okay. Hit me.”
“Caesar’s Palace called.”
“Yeah? They want us back? That’s great. They always get the crowds in.”
“No, more than that.” He paused and Jeremiah decided just to wait him out. There was no point rushing Martin. He’d spill in his own time. “They want to build a new theater. Call it the Jeremiah Moore Theater. Not huge like The Coliseum, of course. Just a thousand seats. Every seat will be a good one. Two shows a night, two-hundred nights per year for ten years.
“What? Slow down.”
Jeremiah tried to replay the information in his mind. He felt light-headed and sat down.
“A theater? Just for my show?”
“Yes. And you get to have creative control over the stage design. They want this to be perfect, built to be exactly what you want. After all, you’ll be there for a decade.”
“If I accept.”
“If you accept. Why wouldn’t you?”
“What’s the money?”
Martin didn’t answer immediately. The pause grew longer and longer, and Jeremiah started to get annoyed with his long-time agent.
Finally, he heard the figure. “Ten million a year.”
“What?”
“Ten fucking million bucks every year.”
Jeremiah didn’t know what to say. Now it was his turn to create a long silence.
“You’re not shitting me, right?
“Nope. That’s the deal.”
“Oh my God.”
“You’ll never get a chance like this again.”
“I know.”
“Any other questions?”
“How in God’s name can they pay that much?”
“Two hundred dates, two shows each night, a thousand seats, a hundred bucks a pop. You can do the math.”
“Are there any other conditions?”
“Sure. Pages of them. Nothing you’ll care about. It’s all legal and timing crap. You have to be there at such-and-such a time every day, every show has to be so long, you indemnify them from any injuries or death you cause, you never speak badly about Caesar’s or the show, you do your best to promote the show . . . nothing you haven’t seen a thousand times.”
“No reason not to agree, right?”
“That’s what I figure.”
Of course, Jeremiah knew this would be Martin’s last and best show, too. He was in his early sixties, and his commission would be $1.5 million per year.
He’s earned it, though.
“Let’s do it, then!”
* * *
After finishing the call, Jeremiah tried to phone Alannah, but there was no answer. He really wanted to share the good news with her immediately, but no luck. He left her a low-key voicemail message asking her to call him back. He didn’t want to spoil it by sounding too excited. He wanted to tell her in person.
He wondered if any magician had ever had a residence show in Vegas, or at least one of that magnitude. He was pretty sure Copperfield had something similar but he didn’t know the details.
There were two bottles of Miller Genuine Draft beer in his fridge. He took one and snapped the cap off. He toasted himself and stared out the window overlooking the parking lot.
Before Nickie had been killed, it was possible that Alannah might have been practicing in the studio right beneath him, but that had all come to an end. Nickie’s sister had no interest in running the studio, so the doors remained locked. To the best of Jeremiah’s knowledge, there’d been no clues found yet as to who the killer was. He assumed the studio was up for sale, but he hadn’t seen any signs indicating that.
“Quite a day,” he said to the empty room.
It was the best day of his professional life. What he found amazing, though, was that the deal with Caesar’s was still only the second best thing to happen that day. Having Alannah say yes to marrying him was better.
* * *
Alannah didn’t return his call that night. Or the next day.
Jeremiah was used to there being times when Alannah was hard to get hold of. He wasn’t quite sure why, but that would all sort itself out over time. He wasn’t always near his phone, either, and he sometimes found himself working long hours designing a new trick, without realizing a whole day might have slipped through his fingers.
He couldn’t ask where she was when she was out of touch. It would feel like he didn’t trust her. Over time he knew he’d come to learn all of her secrets, and he looked forward to whenever that happened. All he knew was that she wasn’t interested in any other men. He knew that as much as he knew his own name. Anything else she might be hiding, he’d find a way to accept.
Finally, she did call, forty-eight hours after he talked to Martin. In that time, the contract had been e-mailed to him (all forty-eight pages) along with Martin’s minor suggestions for changes. He read the contract and found it to be more than fair. There was nothing he could suggest to change, and he let Martin know that. He expected the deal to close within a week.
Performances in Vegas would start in six months, on January 2.
When Alannah did call, he was so excited, he almost burst out the news, but he held on, instead asking if she could come over to see him, or alternatively if he could go to her place.
“Oh, you can’t see my place. It’s too small and I’d be embarrassed.”
“Okay.”
“But I can be at your place in a half hour!”
“Wonderful! We’ll talk a bit, and then I’m going to take you out to whatever restaurant you want. Tonight is a night to celebrate.”
And celebrate they did.
Alannah was dressed in a cute, short, light green skirt that showed off her legs. She knew how much Jeremiah liked to see her like that. Her matching top was tight, highlighting the rest of her figure.
When he opened the door, he just stared, marvelling at how beautiful she was.
After a moment, he pulled her into his arms.
“I still can’t believe you want to be with me,” he said.
“I can’t believe you want to be with me.”
For a time, the whole deal with Caesar’s was forgotten. He just looked at his amazing girlfriend and felt the love surge through him, as he always did when they’d been apart for more than a few hours.
I can’t believe how much love I feel for this girl.
“What’s the occasion?” she asked.
He smiled and led her to the couch.
“We need something to toast with.” He kissed her lightly on her mouth and then went to open a bottle of sauvignon blanc he’d had chilling in the fridge. He poured two glasses and brought them back, handing her one.
“To our future,” he said.
She clinked glasses with him and smiled. They each took a sip, and then Jeremiah blurted out the whole story of the phone call with Martin.
“Your own theater? Like, it won’t be used for anything else?”
“That’s it.”
Alannah’s mouth hung open, and he could tell that she didn’t know what to say.
“We have our future,” he said.
She nodded and her insecurities came to the front. “You’re sure you want me to be part of that, right?”
“Oh my God, yes. I need you more than ever.”
“Okay. Good. I just needed to hear you say that.”
She took another sip and put her glass down. Her face was serious as she stared at Jeremiah.
“I think I need to tell you something.”
Chapter 15
2015
The evening that Jeremiah got his life-changing phone call from Martin, Savannah also was feeling that her own life was changing, but not in a good way.
She was lethargic and tired, and part of her just wanted to sleep forever.
Maybe that’s exactly what I should do.
The sun had set, and she hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on, so the apartment was grim. It was like she was wandering through a forest deep at night. The only illumination came from stray beams of moonlight flashing through the big window in the kitchen, where full moon was rising in the east. The appliances looked like giant gray boulders scattered around her.
She walked to the cutlery drawer and pulled out a carving knife.
Savannah was naked.
She carried the knife to the window. If there had been any light behind her, people below could have seen her from the waist up. She didn’t care. All she cared about was being where the light was a little better.
The knife felt as sharp as a razor blade as she ran her finger over it. A tiny stream of blood oozed.
“Wouldn’t take much, would it?”
From deep inside her, she could feel distress, but she shook that off. She just didn’t care anymore.
The past two months, she had only been happy a few times, mostly the times she fucked
(made love to)
Jeremiah. He treated her unlike anyone had ever treated her. Kindness, gentle touches, always making sure her needs were met . . . she felt alive every second he was touching her body.
But it was all a sham. He wasn’t really making love to her, but to her twin sister. How could that go on for long?
Alannah was growing more confident with every passing day. She had decided to quit the job at Millipad so she could be Jeremiah’s assistant.
What the fuck?
But as much as Savannah pretended to not understand, she did. Who wouldn’t want to be that close to the person who treated you like the queen of the world?
Savannah had no interest in holding the job at Millipad on her own. Half time was hard enough, but no way she’d be able to keep her head straight five days a week with every nutjob in the world calling about problems. She’d go freaking crazy.
That made her laugh. She had enough psychological problems as it was. She had no need for yet another issue.
For twenty-two years, Savannah had been the alpha dog of their tiny pack. Now, she was being pushed to the back while Alannah took control. Alannah, the Angel, was gaining tremendous confidence, while Savannah, the Shit-Disturber, was losing hers.
She wondered if the A and S pendants they’d gotten when they were thirteen were still kicking around somewhere. They had pretty much symbolized their lives since, but she hadn’t seen them for years.
She stared out the window. The people below were scurrying to wherever they were headed, some going to visit family, some going to meet a new lover, some just off to a boring job or an AA meeting or whatever the fuck they did with their lives.
Family.
Savannah and Alannah’s mom had been dead for six years now. Every time the day rolled around on the calendar, Savannah felt the loss. She wished her mom had been there for her in her growing years. Every July 15, she felt that loss and fought it by remembering how strong she’d been forced to become to compensate for the missing maternal figure in her life.
Today was July 15.
Her mom was in her mind again, but this time there was no offsetting positive factors. She had slid backward in so many ways since Alannah had met Jeremiah.
She ran the knife blade along another finger, opening another thin cut. Blood dripped onto the floor beneath the window.
To kill herself, she’d have to slice the veins in her arms. Lengthwise, not across. She knew how to do it.
The blood on her fingers felt greasy as she rubbed her fingers together. It was dark and looked like oil.
Down below, a man stared up in her direction.
Do you see me?
She stared back at him.
More importantly, do you like what you see?
That thought shocked her a bit. She’d never felt that her body was what she wanted people to crave about her. She wanted them to want her.
Didn’t she?
She dropped the knife in the sink and went to get dressed.
* * *
An hour later Savannah was standing in a crowded titty bar in downtown Seattle. With it being a Friday night, the place was crowded with men who were looking for a piece of ass.
Interchangeable girls took their turns to prance on stage, smiling fake smiles while taking their clothing off to the music. The mostly drunk men ogled the fake tits and plastic smiles on the stage, stupidly thinking they could fuck the girls if they would just give them half a chance. Maybe giving them twenty bucks would set them apart from the other clowns drooling beside them, so they all eagerly handed over their money, which the girls gladly stuffed into their panties.
Savannah was waiting for a glass of white wine at the bar, while the bartender was busily serving a crowd at the other end.
“Hi,” said one guy standing next to her. “What brings you here?”
He was in his mid-twenties, with dark hair and a nice smile. He might have been carrying a few extra pounds, but she didn’t care about that.
She smiled back at him. “It was either that or commit suicide.”
He laughed. “Well, I think you made the right choice. I’m Dan.”
“Savannah. Yes, like the city in Georgia.”
Dan laughed again. “Sounds like a sore point.”
“Oh, I have lots of sore points.”
He nodded and called out, “Hey, Jansen! The lady is waiting for a drink over here!”
The bartender nodded and wound his way over with Savannah’s glass of wine.
“Thank you,” she said. She wasn’t sure herself if she was thanking the bartender or Dan.
“What’re the rest of your sore points?”
Savannah thought about all the shit that had been running through her mind earlier. She took a sip of her wine and laughed at herself, which surprised her.
“You know, right now, none of it seems so bad. How about you?”
“I’m doing good, darling. I’m doing very good.”
* * *
Savannah finished two glasses of wine before leaving with Dan. He didn’t live very close, but he had a car parked nearby, a beat-up, ten-year-old red Chevy. It must have been a nice trophy when it was new, but now it was scratched and dented and stunk of burned oil and cigarettes.
She tried not to care. She also tried not to care that he was drunk and driving.
I was going to kill myself a couple of hours ago, so it’d be stupid to worry about his driving now.
In the bar, Dan had complimented her a lot. She had started to keep a list in her mind for the first hour. Chronologically, he’d told her he liked:
1. Her hair
2. Her smile.
3. Her short skirt
4. Her delicate fingers
5. Her lips
6. Her smile
7. Her boobs
9. Her laugh
She was pretty sure that he didn’t realize he’d duplicated the smile. She also thought he was probably just following some stupid Internet meme about how to pick up girls: just keep telling things you like about them.
The fact is, it worked . . . at least a little bit. He didn’t turn to watch the strippers, he didn’t seem to be an asshole, and he at least paid lip service to some things he liked about her.
Savannah had done lots worse.
So, she let him take her home, and while he fucked her, she tried to think of being happy. He kissed her all over her body and licked sloppily at her nipples, but he was pretty fast at things and when he entered her, she wasn’t wet at all, and it hurt. She squeezed her eyes shut, knowing he could probably have kept on with foreplay for hours and she still wouldn’t have gotten excited.
He grunted and came, and she pretended to come too, and he seemed totally satisfied.
“You’re awesome,” he mumbled. He rolled off her onto his back.
“Back atcha,” she said.
He was quiet for a long time, and she wondered if he had fallen asleep.
“I like your eyes,” he said.
“Thank you.”
After a few more minutes, he started to snore. Savannah climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom to clean up. Then she got dressed and left.
She took a cab home. It was after 2:00 a.m. She went back to the window she’d been looking out earlier and now the street below was totally deserted.
Alannah’s bedroom door was shut.
Savannah washed her face and went to her own bed. She cried herself to sleep.
Chapter 16
2015
“I think I need to tell you something.”
Alannah immediately shut her mouth, wondering why the hell she’d said that.
Some things were best kept secret, locked in the dark and never bothered. They were grizzly little porcupines that were quiet as long as they were left sleeping, but if you poked them with a sharp stick, you would regret it.
She felt that way now, as Jeremiah looked intently at her, a smile riding on his face and his patience shining through.