The Everborn (33 page)

Well - -
he and Melony
were now in the
too much too soon
category, and he never expected
that
!

Andrew was afraid of what to make of it all.

But his body had loved every minute of it.

(And
--it completely slipped his mind that Bari could’ve been watching him, an annoyance to any given past sexual encounter, save for this one. An odd reflection. Hmmmm....)

As he lay with her, her legs intertwined with his, her thigh snuggled against his crotch, he was becoming aware that he was getting his second wind of arousal. He was becoming aroused by this, and by the thoughts of what it was like to undress her and to feel her, to slide his hands down her belly and into her panties to discover how wet she was and to cherish his hand there, to indulge in her flesh. He recalled how they first lay across his bed and of how she undressed him, how she slid his pants from his ankles and worked her way upwards to grasp him, took him into her mouth and ultimately inside her as she straddled him and he held the reality of her touch within his hands.

His desire for her rekindled until its fuse was snipped short by one simple, terminal thought:
Bari’s been probably watching him
.

Several minutes later, Melony stirred and arose and shut the bedroom window herself. Andrew winked his eyes open and remained relaxed and still as he observed and admired her nude silhouette in the curtained moonlight. She then looked upon him and he shut his eyes just enough to see her through a blurry forest of eyelashes. He regarded her this way while she stretched her arms out and arched her body backwards with an accompanying yawn. She afterwards slumped forward and over Andrew’s desk, until she was scrutinizing the tops of the piles of paperwork and manuscript drafts and the titles of the reference books above.

And then she lost interest and exited the room.

Andrew shut his eyes and repositioned his body comfortably, though his ears were intent on keeping a close listen to any hint of what Melony was up to.

***

Melony was thinking of going home.

Politely, of course.

But she had to go home
some time
, and she was beginning to experience the
do-this-don’t-do-that
thing, as though her own devil likeness and her own angel likeness were teetering upon each of her shoulders and debating persistently about what she should do. This was not the time to be plagued by responsibility and marital loyalty, it was a wee bit late for that, but it rendered hen torn between guilt and lingering passion.

Yes, perhaps, she should be heading home about now.

Or very, very soon.

She was aware that Andrew might’ve been watching her, but she hoped not, for she would much rather leave him undisturbed and with the courteous favor of a letter rather than having him witness her departure. The attraction she felt for him had been a prelude to feelings, and now that all was said and done, though done more than said, she wanted nothing more than to place a harness on the evening and contain it for a sober review later. Somehow, she wasn’t sure he’d understand, what with her journalistic intentions and all, and how they clearly confused him.

She could rightfully claim to have sobered up by now, and that was a relief.

She crept languidly down the hallway and out into the living room, into the flickering light of the MTV upon the muted projection television, abandoned earlier for her and Andrew’s climactic bedroom excursion.

Her clothes lay in a dispersed heap amongst UNO cards near the sofa at the far wall, but her purse remained upon the black leather recliner and she went for that first.

She knelt down before it and slid it yawning open on its side, and fumbled through it for a notepad and a pen and a breath mint. She recovered one of ten pens within the purse outright, removed her Nikkon and an address book and a pager until her microcassette recorder and a few more pens avalanched down her knees to the carpet. Rather than tending to them, she checked her pager for pages, snickering once in recalling how Max disliked pagers. There were no pages. Then she proceeded to gather her items from the carpet.

When she picked up the microcassette recorder, she gazed at it.

She wasn’t going to leave yet, not that second, she was in no hurry and if Andrew came forth from the hallway before she was fully dressed....then fine. She would gather up the UNO cards, compose for Andrew that letter unless he in fact come out to her, but before all that, she thought,
let’s hear a concluding portion of that interview
. Just to hear it, just in retrospect.

But when she lowered the volume control, pressed the rewind and waited, depressed the rewind and pressed play, she took it for granted that the pre-recorded words she heard Andrew say were words that she couldn’t recollect because she’d been drinking.

Andrew’s voice on the recorder said, rather softly,

“...(something muffled, then..)...up with her, so what could make me think that you’re right? You always think you’re right, that you’re perfect, don’t you? (Then, the clatter-clank of dishes being washed, followed by a pause of silence.) I’m gonna tell her whatever I want to tell her. You knew I would. (Pause.) So why have you allowed this to go so far?”

And then, another voice responded. It was a female voice, but Melony instantly recognized that it was a voice not her own. It was different. It vibrated somehow unnaturally, like a dominant soprano synthesized by a rock band’s keyboard to sound more sexy.

And the voice that followed
said
, “I always think I’m right, but on
your
behalf. And haven’t I always proven to steer you course true? I don’t always know what I'm doing, but I always know what
you’re
doing...so I have ample time to advise you about things well before you know they’re happening.”

Then, Andrew’s voice: “I’m telling you, Bari...I honestly think I should tell her the truth....”

Then, the
other
voice: “Andrew...tell her anything but that, for now.”

And then silence, until the familiar sounds of Melony emerging from the bathroom were cut short by a sharp
click
!

There was nothing left recorded but a vacuous hissing noise...not to mention Melony’s comprehension…and utter disbelief.

Was Andrew having a discussion not with himself but with this confessed “imaginary childhood friend” he called Bari?

In the recording, he even called her
Bari
.

Let’s rewind that sucker and hear it again....

***

There came a pounding at Andrew’s front door, enough to somersault Melony’s heartbeat...

...and the prompt
rattle-rattle
of keys and doorknob....

***

The door flung open and smacked against the wall to the left of it.

Thud
!

It was not Ralston’s intention to burst open the door so harshly…it was not simply a result of his temper, though it added considerable effect to his situation, but it was due to his spun-out state of mind; when one is as spun-out as he, everything is amplified even in strength, especially when the one spun-out is desperate. It’s that way all around.

And he burst into Andrew’s apartment.

Melony shrieked in response, and withered backwards behind the black recliner before she could think of covering her breasts with her arms.

As soon as she was able to acquire a mental focus on Ralston, she recognized who he was...she’d grown accustomed to Ralston Cooper’s face a great deal longer than she’d become used to Andrew’s.

He looked like a highlighted cast member of an Irwin Allen disaster film, throwing open the door and standing there all beaten and worn. He wore a raggedy gray t-shirt, which appeared shredded at the waist and faded jean shorts and tennis shoes.

He cried out, “
Son of a bitch
! Where the fuck are you, Andy-man, and what are you doing to my reputation!!?”

Melony was the unfortunate first and only prospect for Ralston to verbally assail as soon as his blazen eyes surveyed the room and caught sight of her. He swung loose the spare key set in his hands into the direction of Mel’s mound of clothes. Though infuriated as he was, and as panic-stricken as
Melony
was, Mel was able to detect a faint disclosure of amusement in his expression, telling her that he not only suddenly acknowledged who she was ---the girl who danced with Andrew at
The Crow Job
the other night--- but that she was naked.

“You fucking him?” he immediately accused her. Just as immediately afterward, he lapsed into what only could be described as a mock convulsion before he continued. "Of
course
you’re fucking him. I mean, what does it
look
like? I mean, I’m not barging in here because I’m a jealous lover, if that’s what you’re thinking. Listen...has he told you about me?! Did he show you his book, his cock, book? Has he shown you book? Or has he told you about me, that
rat bastard....?!!!"

Melony was speechless, but her alertness became far less stunned. All she could do was cower and curl herself up to shield her embarrassing nakedness. She expected and hoped for Andrew to appear from the hallway any minute and as she looked in that direction, he did.

He was wearing nothing but his chessboard boxers and his dick was peeking out the fly.

The moment Ralston saw him, Ralston went for him. “You
rat bastard!!!”

But instead, Ralston altered his course and went for a quarter of a row of hardbound books inside the oak bookcase to Andrew’s left, grasped them firmly and removed them, and jettisoned them into Meat Loaf’s face on the projection TV.

Andrew gazed upon Ralston in extreme perplexity. “Ralston...Ralston, what the hell are you doing??” He then shot a questioning glance at Melony, who replied to his glance with a look of distracted humility and puzzlement.

Ralston gave Andrew his anxious reply. “I wanna know what the hell
you're
doing! What is this shit, a crafty way of delivering your own vindictive message to my world of fans? We had a deal! William called me, and he sounded like he wanted to kill you himself when he was telling me all about what you said in this....this ‘
Everborn
’ novel of yours!”

“But…but Ralston,” Andrew said defensively with a note of irritated sarcasm, “don’t you mean ‘that
ever-born
novel of
yours
?”

Andrew instantly wondered what Ralston had meant by
ever-born
novel. His time-induced ignorance as to what novel he finished for Ralston a few days ago resulted in nothing short of confusion for Andy. To him, Ralston was trapped in a state of mortal hysteria to have hopped in his car for a quick visit like this, drug-related without a doubt at all, and Ralston’s accusations and actions frightened Andrew. And by looking at poor Melony, the timing for such a display angered him.

Andrew’s reply pissed Ralston off enough to prove he was purely raging mad, enough to send Ralston lunging for Andrew’s collar bone. The impact sent both of them in a turbulent jolt into the hallway, smacking Andrew’s back and backside against the half-opened bathroom door and then into the bathroom, both stumbling and falling over the throw rug on the tile floor inside.

Andrew crashed down upon his back, Ralston on top of him and now gripping Andrew’s neck.

Andrew began to fight Ralston off, arms kicking and legs flailing. He could not protest vocally however he tried, did not notice Melony’s unclothed figure rising up in the distant living room beyond the view over Ralston’s shoulders to gaze upon the two in helpless contemplation.

Ralston shouted and swore and cursed, but before he could summon any reasonably audible phrase, Bari summoned herself above them.

Andrew never figured the night would go this way; in Ralston’s violent disregard for explaining himself and for talking things over, he had this one coming.

***

From Melony’s viewpoint, the entire scene within the bathroom began to blur. It wasn’t the alcohol this time. Something celestial and massive took shape behind Ralston too rapidly to appear real, though its physical form when it materialized demanded authentic reality.

The next moment found Ralston hurdling backwards into the air so quickly his shoes missed the carpeting below by over a foot of space, so fast Melony was barely able to dodge his ragdoll body. Ralston’s left thigh connected with an arm of the leather recliner with a
fwop
, causing him to double rearward further and to plop ass-first into the recliner’s lap. The impact rolled his ass from the recliner and dumped him onto the carpet at Melony’s retreating feet. He struggled to twist his body upwards for a view of his assailant, witlessly expecting the possessor of such physical force to be Andrew’s naked playmate.

He blinked his rabid eyes into a vision of dillusional terror.

Melony was the first to behold the fantastic being which emerged from the bathroom meticulously to take an assessment of the circumstances, obtaining a fixed stance and facing the scene from the hallway entrance.

Melony beheld the being as though she herself was a defenseless animal placed eye to eye with life’s climactic image of a hypnotic snake, until she found herself drawn into its enrapturing beauty. The subsequent second found her with just enough ease to take a perspective observance.