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“-partly cloudy, balmy at 81 F. Southwest winds averaging around 15-20 mph. Isolated of showers or thunderstorms with 3 to 6 mm of rain expected. It’s gonna be a warm night before that cool change kicks in, folks. Thanks for tuning in! I’m Lisa Spencer, and that’s your weather forecast for tonight. Good night, Miami and stay safe out there!”
The drudgery intro of the new Robin Hood movie theme started playing just as the lights turned green. Daniel bore it for twenty seconds or so as drivers around him tried and failed to react. Palms slammed impatiently on klaxons, and someone in the car behind him hollered, “Move it already!” His blood pressure spiked and he reminded himself that he, Daniel Molloy at age 38, had neither the time nor the energy to be involved in road rage right now.
Ah, finally people remembered how to drive again!
At first chance, he pounced at the forward button on the stereo, sending it scrambling for anything else but that fucking song— seemed like every one in three stations was playing it. If he had to listen to Bryan Adams croon about how there was no love like your love one more time, he would burn something to the ground.
This rental Buick was nice and all, even still had that fresh from factory smell, but he was keenly missing his rackety, orange AMC Gremlin. And pressing these tiny, slippery buttons was nowhere as satisfying as turning the big old radio’s dial left and right, and getting the station he wanted at first try.
Fat droplets of rain fell and stopped completely. All it had done was made a mess of his windscreen. He turned on the washer to get rid of the dust tracks.
There she was again, Miami, The Magic City...
Earlier today, Daniel had gone up and down Ocean Grove where palm trees waved lazily in the hot sun. Sailboats nodded on the blue water while convertibles bounced on ridiculous suspension to the beat of loud music. Girls in g-strings roller-skated past his car. Sweaty men sporting pastel suits, gold necklaces and body hair that peeked on top of white tanktops; they fist-pumped their bros and smiled with blinding white teeth. Somehow, he didn’t think that these Sonny Crockett-lookalikes would have cop's badges to flash at him.
Yeah, Miami was really the ultimate party girl; pink, moist and ready for anything.
Now at 8 PM, trawling through suburban streets dimly lit by low pressure sodium yellow bulbs, Daniel was given a peek show of what’s underneath the dress. The flashy wig had slipped, the lipstick was smeared and there were ladders on her stockings. She was weary, seedy and ready to slit your throat if you say one wrong word.
Daniel clenched the steering wheel hard and told himself that all he needed was cold beer, greasy food and the refrigerated air of the hotel room that he’d booked via phone before flying here. Throw in a shower, quick revising of his notes while still fresh in his mind, and a good night sleep... hopefully.
Not that it ever helped, but he longed for his own bed and pillow, and for the dark, pokey apartment in Fishkill, New York that he shared with his girlfriend, Alice.
Alice had moved out of it two weeks ago, and had been refusing to see him; only taking his call once to get things off her chest.
He worked too much and away too often. When he was home, he was hardly present. This was the third year in a row that he'd forgotten her birthday. He never deigned to suffer dinners with her friends, the ‘we summer in Hamptons’ crowd (how could she blame him for that, seriously?) He had told her that he also wanted a family, but with him, it was never the right time. It's been three fucking years, Daniel.
Alice said tiredly, "You are too sarcastic, too opinionated and too selfish."
Funny how those were the exact qualities that made her fall for him in the first place. Except the words used were witty, intellectual and self-reliant, and she was smiling instead of crying.
In short, Daniel Molloy’s longest-lasting relationship to date ended because he was simply being himself.
And how should he fix that? Apart from a full lobotomy?
And the real question was: did he want it fixed?
Perhaps this time he wouldn’t go and beg Alice to come home. Her parents might not even let him step a foot into the foyer of their grand mansion anyway. They must be praying that their breakup would stick this time. Never did like his broke ass and fast mouth.
Perhaps Daniel didn’t care...
He loved Alice, liked her even. But there were bigger things in life than love!
You're a bright young reporter with a point of view. There are stories out there that need to be told.
He rubbed his face.
That was a whole afternoon spent interviewing two Victoria’s Secret models. Trust him when he said that in this line of work, he’d had much worse company. Yet there was nothing remotely sexy or pleasant about this one.
In fact his stomach heaved thinking of the things he’d heard. Between wiping their eyes and blowing their noses, the two sisters managed to tell a cohesive story about their bizarre trip to an island called St. Thomas. While Daniel listened and asked questions, their tearful mother plied him with endless honey iced tea and chunky pineapple pieces that made his jaw sore with the sourness.
Now that he had the recording safely tucked in his bag, and was driving away from the house, he realized that it had been hours since he last ate anything of substance. Mmm, something savory and meaty. He could really demolish a cheese burger or two.
He could actually demolish an empire or two, too.
The story… Yeah... Holy shit.
It would take months, years even to verify what the girls had told him. He probably had to go to the island and check out the compound where these alleged auditions for aspiring teen models took place. Lured in by the promise of glittering career and riches, the girls were unequivocally raped by old, powerful men, and then sent home with a threat to keep quiet. They sobbed when they told him that they were barely of age themselves when their 'audition' happened. There were dozen others who couldn’t have been older than 12.
There are stories out there that need to be told. There's shit that's just you know, wrong. People need to know about it. It's not a complicated job, but it'll mess with your life.
Some of these kids, just like the two who had been talking to Daniel, had tried to report it to the authorities but their cries disappeared in the void. The men who partied in that island were serious movers and shakers in this country and beyond. Politicians, judges, oligarchs, famous movie stars and directors, even foreign princes. Truly fucked up bunch of people that Daniel had no doubt the world would be much better off without.
It's a mighty mountain to hike and fall from. Yet if everything was verified, this had the potential to be the biggest story of the year, the decade even… Just listening to the famous names uttered in hushed voice made the hair on his arms rise.
This could be the biggest break of his career!
Daniel drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He couldn’t wait to go back to New York and start working. Even if his boss didn’t give him the go-ahead, he would go it alone. He could already feel the weight of the shiny journalist’s award in his arm. Might even be a book deal or two. Is that a Pulitzer he saw in the horizon?
No, not another soppy ballad... Please, he sniggered at the word 'love'.
The radio went scanning again as he took a cigarette out of the packet, and patted himself everywhere for the lighter. Damn, his bag was in the backseat and he couldn't reach for it. Traffic was still moving, albeit slowly.
Was it the humidity that caused people here to move like suspended in molasses? Or was he simply going at double the speed than others? Can take the boy out of New York, can't take New York out of the boy.
Ah, here comes real rain beating down the car roof. Daniel rolled the window up, but left a tiny crack so he could light up at the next stop.
Turning into another street, he found that the traffic here had mostly dissipated. What pedestrians left were hurrying inside a bus, or cars or buildings. He put his foot on the brake and started to slow down for the red light.
Yes, this song is more like it!
He started humming to it while lighting the cigarette. That first hit got him light-headed with relief. Aahh...
In front of him was another Buick, clean but old, a few decades older than his rental. In the driver's seat was a silhouette of a man with curly white hair.
Blowing smoke of to the side of his mouth, he sang out loud, “♪ That’s me in the corner... That’s me in the spot-light… Losing my religion… ♪”
The light turned green. He took another drag while waiting for the senior citizen to react. Four seconds. “♪ Tryin’ to keep up with you… I don’t know if I can do it… ♪” Five seconds.
The two cars behind him started blaring their horns. Daniel hummed, “♪ Thought I heard you laughing… Thought I heard you sing… ♪” But his voice faltered even as the radio kept blaring.
Completely bathed in green-light filtered through the drizzle, the car in front of him didn’t move.
Daniel frowned and pressed on the klaxon once, twice.
Another four, five seconds later and the cars behind him started doing this long, continuous honk.
The car didn’t move.
The silhouette didn’t move.
Cold sweat broke out of every single pore of Daniel’s body. His hands trembled when he saw in his mind a pair of mournful, amber eyes. “You’re gonna teach me how to be fascinating,” the faceless creature with shock mop of black hair had said.
Suddenly terror that he felt at that moment squeezed his heart. He remembered the pain on his quads and neck. The lulling, melodious voice continued singing at him, making him feel as if he was slipping into a warm bath. “…all the confidence and hope of your youth replaced by a seething, boiling regret. Until one day, you're at a traffic light...”
He saw the yellow glow of streetlights through a window. Someone was standing with his back to him. The other windows in the room were taped up. Edges of the newspapers flapping. The floor slanted slightly to the North because his blood had spilled and trickled down that direction.
A small mouth in that face was moving. Words that were like prayers, or a prophecy. Yet, he had refused to go under the spell. "I like my life," he had wept, “I’m a young reporter with a point of view.”
“Ssh ssh it’s okay… You’re at a traffic light. The light turns green, horns honking, you don't move. Horns honking, you don't move.”
Daniel was about to black out. He had experienced this several times before, so he knew the signs. Spots formed behind his eyelids fast and hard.
With just a few seconds left of consciousness, he pulled the handbrake up. The cigarette dropped onto his lap then between his shoes, and his head fell back to the headrest.
A word slithered into his head.
Beloved.
Wind and rain pounded at his window.
The lights had become red and the world stopped. All the yelling and honking died down the same time as droplets of rain froze in the air.
His car door opened.
The lights switched back to green.
The wind, the rain and the song resumed, “♪ But that was just a dream… That was just a dream… ♪“
Daniel didn't wake.
He came to in a bed that he'd never seen before, in a suite that obviously charged more than the travel allowance that the Post gave him. Through the open door, a dozen stainless steel cloches sparkle atop polished surface of a walnut dining table. If he were to peep underneath, he would find dishes that his tongue would memorize the taste of, but his mind would never recall where he tasted them in the first place.
None of it bothered him because he expected these series of deja vu after every fainting fit he had.
For instance, he was naked. That's not new. His clothes were either getting washed, or had been disposed of if they were deemed to have seen better days. If so, he would get new outfit laid out on the nearest armchair, ready to wear. However, he saw none tonight, so laundry day it was.
The icy cold water he found beside the bed tasted like revival on sour mouth. He pulled on the white terry robe and gingerly tried his legs… One time, he had stood up too fast and cracked his head on the sharp corner of the bedside table. It had been fixed up for him in seconds before he lost too much blood.
He padded into the bathroom and emptied his bladder. No one in here but his own reflection on the gilded mirror staring back; bleary eyed, face blotchy and wrinkled with sleep.
He yawned, splashed water on his face and toweled dry. Each of his step to the next room sank into the plush carpet. Lifting the lids of the nearest dishes, his stomach growled smelling the food. Without delay, his fingers grabbed and transported morsels from plates to mouth, and when that wasn’t quick enough, he took a silver spoon and started shoveling. Crumbs flew, sauce dripped, he wiped impatiently at his chin with a cloth napkin. His other hand tore off a bread roll that he barely chewed before swallowing. Trying to breathe at the same time was not a good idea, he choked and spluttered.
How long was he out for?
Whatever the answer was, again he's not troubled. He'd been here before... well, not here here exactly. But this sequence of events was familiar. He knew how to dance to this tune.
And he was where he most wanted to be.
The sliding door to the terrace slid open. A shadow tore itself off the cloudy night and floated into the brightly lit room.
Seeing Armand wasn't surprising. It was the Nike sweat top and pants, the Adidas sneakers, and the baseball cap that hid most of Armand's curls that raised his eyebrows. “What in the world are you wearing?”
“It’s Miami. I wanna look the part.”
“You look like you supply Adderall to the entire senior year of The U plus their lectures.” Daniel was not known for gentle, constructive criticism. He sat down and started eating in the earnest. “When was the last time that you... ah we...?”
“Three years ago. Shortly after you got on with Alice.”
That gave him pause. Three whole years? He was taken aback of how much that revelation hurt. But he reminded himself that time didn't mean anything to creatures like them.
“So why now? Why here? Why are we back on this rodeo again?"
“Alice left you two weeks ago, but you’ve been crying for help for much longer than that. You’ve not been sleeping well. And you're drinking more than usual. Work, life, love… You want to be rid of the pressure, even for just one night… But this is the dangerous slippery slop, Daniel. You were looking to score from those seedy guys downtown-”
“Yeah, so the garage door is wide open and you can see everything. But you’re missing the part where my intentions remain separate from action. Sure I thought about it, but did you see me buy any?”
“That's because you blacked out before you got to them.”
"No thanks to you." Horns honking, you don't move. “What happened to the old man in front of me?”
“Pulmonary embolism. I drove us away before the ambulance got there.”
"And how long do I have this time before you fuck off for good again?"
"Must we prelude what precious little time we have with the same banal argument?"
Daniel drank water noisily to help him swallow. He had no idea what he was eating, but it was just important to not be able to reply right or he’d howl or throw something at Armand.
Because if it was up to him, they would have all the time in the world.
Alas, it was not meant to be.
"Says he while wearing the most banal outfit I've ever seen." He put the glass down, "Yeah, that means strip, babe."
Armand was a world-class head-giver. Daniel had had his cock sucked by many before, but the way Armand had this down to a fine art always impressed him— no gag reflex, no breathing required; never got stiff jaw either, even if he took forever to come. But let's be honest, Daniel never lasted long. Not when he saw Armand's lips thinning out and stretching to fit around his girth; how those cheeks hollowed out, how wet and hard the suction of his mouth was. And definitely not when those black pupils stared up unblinking from under thick, long lashes, reading his every moan and facial expression as if they were instructions on a service manual.
The mind reading helped, obviously.
Daniel loved that he never had to ask Armand to fuck him. Armand just knew what Daniel needed— firm hands gripping his waist and a cock in his ass to start with.
Daniel could never voice this deeply buried need of his out loud. The encounters he'd had in the past where he received were ones hazy with drugs and alcohol, and it had depended entirely on luck and not wisdom, that he hadn't been robbed or murdered... He had told himself that it was something to get out of his system once, maybe twice. Soon, he stopped counting.
Until he met Louis and Armand, and almost died multiple times in the span of five days.
Now funnily enough, he felt safe being shaped, getting pulled apart by Armand's powerful hands. Because Armand knew everything— all his darkest secrets and desires, all his past and future sins. No matter what he had done, Daniel knew that Armand would love him unconditionally.
He was the only drug Daniel had ever needed in life.
One that Daniel could only have in small doses if he wanted to keep living.
The elevated tub was big enough to fit six, yet they piled together in one cozy corner. Daniel tipped two mini bottles of pineapple scented oil into the bubbling water and gratefully sank himself into Armand's waiting embrace. His lover's elegant fingers picked up a frosted martini glass off the Venetian marble frame, and his other hand plucked the cigarette off Daniel's lips.
"Where do you live nowadays?" The drink was so cold, it gave Daniel brain freeze. Armand mixed the best martinis he'd ever tasted; a strange skill for vampires to have, especially because Daniel had never seen him drink any alcohol, not even for posturing at bars.
For a while there was only the sound of water dripping from the tap into the bath. Armand took a drag of their shared cigarette and blew rings of smoke to fill the silence.
Nothing Daniel could do to make Armand say anything if he didn't want to, so he changed gear, "You said that you were moving back to Europe. But you sure got to me fast enough."
"I was in... New Orleans."
Daniel closed his eyes, enjoying Armand's gently scrubbing at his shoulders with a sponge. "Who's there? Louis?"
"No. Don't waste your time digging. It's dangerous."
Huh. Daniel remembered that New Orleans was where Louis had lived for thirty years with Lestat and Claudia. It's gotta be one of them still living there.
"I'm serious, Daniel. Do not go there."
"How's Louis, by the way?" Ironic that Daniel was asking after the well-being of a vampire who literally had tried to eat him, so he added, "Still baiting young men with drugs to take home and kill?"
Silence. Was that pain in Armand's eyes?
"So he's still doing it."
"How do you like Miami, beloved?"
"Uh, er... it's great if you like endless shopping malls and very tanned people with big teeth." Daniel felt Armand's lips on his temple and relaxed about his unanswered questions, "Okay, the best thing about Miami is also the worst thing about her: too hot and sunny... Also, too many Floridians."
"This island is only five minutes flight from Miami. Listen to that: there's no traffic outside. Do you like it?"
Come to think about it, Daniel hadn't heard a single honk or the sound of revving cars; it's just been waves breaking on the shore and night creatures calling.
"Why? You wanna buy it for me?" Daniel was kidding of course, but the light in Armand's eyes reminded him that he shouldn't joke. Armand would be insane and rich enough to present him with a property deed to sign.
Imagine that, Daniel Molloy a proud apartment-renter owning an island before his first home. "Just to be clear, I don't want an island, okay?"
Armand smiled as his fingers worked conditioner into Daniel's scalp. "The scent of your semen has changed. Sharp and slightly sweet. Similar to this bath water actually."
Daniel had forgotten about the whiplashes that Armand dished out on regular basis. "That's human metabolism for you. What we eat can alter our body secretion, especially fluid. I had tons of pineapple today. It's Miami."
Back to the subject Armand tried to avoid. "Louis has no idea about us, does he? Do you know how that makes me feel? Like a toy that you hide inside the bottom drawer, in the darkest corner."
"I don't tell Louis because I don't want him to stake his claim. You're mine, not his."
The pointlessness of Armand and Louis hurt his heart, "Why go back to him if he makes you sad? Why not stay? Please, if it's Alice, she broke up with me. I don't have to go home to anyone or anywhere, but you."
"You need an Alice in your life more than you know... Also, I don't adhere to mortal's rules for companionship. This is not about Louis or Alice."
"Yeah, it's about me. You don't wanna turn me. You've never made one before. You're disgusted by the thought. But they're just excuses. You keep saying that you love me, but rather see me die than have me as your forever companion. So in the end of the day, you just don't love me."
"I know that you don't believe that."
Daniel sulked.
Having mind-reader as a lover sucked balls sometimes.
The first time Daniel's memory came back which was two years after they dumped him in the drug den outside San Francisco. Armand had literally descended from the sky and poured into his studio room in Modesto. Just like tonight.
Daniel had howled and thrown things at him then. With minimal interest, Armand had chased him around the neighborhood where he ran and sweated and cried under the yellow streetlights, and begged the demon to leave him alone.
But now?
Armand was Daniel's personal genie who would grant him anything he could hope for. Clothes, car, food, house, all the riches in the world... you name it, he got it if he was willing to ask... (with one exception.)
After eighteen years of this cat and mouse, student and master relationship, Daniel knew the only way he could force Armand to come to him, was he had to be going insane or dying.
He made himself look at this creature whose ankles were hanging off Daniel's shoulders.
Nothing, not even Armand's refusal to turn him could dampen Daniel's desire. Silky black curls that he liked to twist his fingers in. Miles of shimmery, smooth skin that was his harbor, his sanctuary. Those kitten-like fangs that would cut deep but would never for him. The fount of delicious blood visibly thrumming on Armand's veins that he would at times feed to Daniel at whim.
Every time they interacted, Daniel's feelings would escalate into such intensity, that there was no chance that he could stay sane enough to lead a normal life.
Unless Armand wiped his entire existence off Daniel's mind.
But from time to time, things happened that would trigger his memory, and he would black out first before remembering. Bits and pieces at first, and then like a sledgehammer, enlightenment hit all at once. Along with the accompanying frustration and interminable sadness.
Then like clockwork, POOF! Armand would materialize out of thin air, ready for damage-control.
Staring into the abyss of the blackest of irises, Daniel drove his cock in and out of Armand's body. He chased and caught his climax, and toppled off the edge. Clutching tightly to Armand, he whined, "I love you," earning himself a blood-flavored kiss from his lover.
Daniel kissed him back, deciding that Armand was actually an embodiment of every Asian folklore’s female spirits that hunted men and sucked their life juices out in order to preserve her immortality.
So, what did that make him? Because here he was, catching every drop of the elixir into his belly, savoring these rare glimpses of Armand's love for him.
What Daniel saw in the blood made him feel infinitely stronger. Like a mortal man who would summit all fourteen of the eight-thousanders in Himalayas. Yes, yes, bring it on.
His ear plastered to Armand's chest, he heard him hum, "♪ That’s me in the corner... Losing my religion… ♪"
It's the tune that kept playing in his head! Daniel laughed out loud.
At this moment, safe within Armand's arms, he was more than content.
"Speaking of island..." They smoked as he told Armand about the tale that the lingerie models had regaled him. "... right in the compound, rich old psychos raping hapless minors as if we're back in ancient Rome and they're Caligulas. They must be stopped!"
The word to describe Armand's expression right now was 'unmoved'. "And this will give you the big break you need?"
"Yes... why? You don't think so?"
"Have you or haven't you, in the past three years, been immersing yourself in the geopolitics of Eastern Europe? Is it wise to change direction when we just had a coup d'état against Gorbachev? After 70 long years, we might actually see the end of Soviet Union. Beloved, I think you should write about that instead."
"I thought your kind don't care for human affairs?"
"We don't. But I educate myself in areas that fascinate you... I know of a Kremlin-approved group of journalists and photographers departing in a few days and-"
"I'm not important enough to be included in that."
"They are mainly going there to see Moscow flex her muscles. I can get you in, if you're interested."
"One more PR brochure for Gorbachev coming right up."
Armand shrugged his shoulders, "If you'd rather investigate lecherous old men who run underwear company, that's okay too. Probably safer."
Daniel frowned, "No, you're right. The Moscow trip is too good a chance to throw away. Plus, I can always work on the girls' story after I come back."
Armand nodded, "Good decision. I'll see you there."
Like a fluorescent light bulb, Daniel's whole face brightened up. "You're coming too? For the whole trip?" The relief in his face was palpable when he realized that Armand was not leaving him yet, and he might get to keep his memory intact for a while!
Armand smiled, "Your invaluable local translator at your service. I speak Russian and minds."
Daniel laughed, "It will be, like, honeymoon for us."
Armand poked at his ribs, "It will be, like, work for you. I know a man in Krasnoyarsk who is desperate to talk to someone. I think you and I should take a secret side trip over and hear him out."
1992
Daniel rolled the window completely down so that the cigarette smoke could disperse in the wind. Another hour in this late afternoon traffic, before he could get home. He had just left his fiancée Alice and her bags at her parents' Southampton's house, where for the whole long weekend, she would have all her meals cooked perfectly, her pillows plumped up, and shopping sprees planned.
And Daniel would have three days to himself.
Win-win.
Just what they deserved before the baby arrived next month.
His relationship with the future in-laws had improved leaps and bound. Over coffee and cakes, Alice's father even inquired about the release date of his book; not for him of course, but for his golf-buddies who had been asking. Alice’s mother was more excited about the Manhattan's townhouse they had just moved into. Wasn't it incredible lucky that the previous owner had been in such a hurry to sell that he accepted Daniel and Alice's first offer? Even leaving behind all the gorgeous heirloom furniture for them to use? Listening to their breathless talks about chaise lounge and walnut sideboard, Daniel felt that the longer he were to sit here, an invitation to visit would get forced out of his mouth...
Luckily, his black Nokia 1011 rang and saved the day.
Excusing himself to the patio, he took a call from one of Roman Weiss' editors Nadia. She was working late hours to finalize his book so it could be sent out for printing first thing next week.
"Hey Daniel, the group photos that Borys promised us have just arrived... My initial thought was what we have lined up is already perfect, to be honest. But there are two here that I really like where you're actually smiling. We should use them. Now, there's a man whose last name Borys didn't write down. I wonder if you can tell me."
“What does he look like?”
“Slim and tall, dark-skinned, curly black hair and light eyes. Beautiful face like Carravaggio's painting. According to the handwritten note, he's ‘Andrei no-last-name'."
Daniel frowned, “Andrei? I don’t know who that is. Maybe a translator for the other papers.” But as he said the name, something niggled.
“That's fine. He's obviously not important, 'cause there's no way you don't remember if he was. We'll cut him away because I don't have time to chase up some random guy's name.”
“You do that... Thanks, Nad."
Andrei. The niggle had burrowed itself into his mind.
Perhaps he would detour past Roman Weiss' head office tonight and look at the photos himself.
After Daniel came back from Moscow, he published a weekly anecdotal column in the Post that depicted his travel into 'the heart of the Red Giant'. They were widely read and quoted. But it was the in-depth piece he wrote for the Foreign Affairs magazine about the four-days interview he had with an ex-operative of KGB in Krasnoyarsk-26, now formally known as Zheleznogorsk, that pretty much propelled Daniel into a household name in the world of prestigious journalism. The collapse of the U.S.S.R. and her secret service KGB late December 1991 was still sending aftershocks to people's minds. Everyone was hungry for more intimate, first-hand foray into of the mysterious land behind the iron curtain and her people.
For once, Daniel was there at the right time and place, and with the right material that could satisfy that appetite.
The new face in publishing, Roman Weiss offered him a book deal on the spot and gave him a big, fat advance before a single chapter was even written. Clearly, a backer with solid finance and excellent taste!
Daniel had a real good feeling about them.
In fact, after getting home to New York and finding Alice back in their apartment, calmly cooking dinner while telling him that she was pregnant, the book deal couldn't have come at a better time.
He wrote like a demon for three months for himself, and for Alice and their baby of course. Apparently, the big boss whom Daniel himself had never met was very pleased with the final draft. Daniel subsequently found himself signing a contract for three more books due in five years.
It's gonna be uphill from now on, isn't it?
A song started playing in the radio and he sang along to it.
“♪ Thought I heard you laughing… Thought I heard you sing...♪”
Flashes of smooth skin and lilting voice. Long fingers holding a martini glass. The scent of pineapple in the damp air.
Muddy brown snow in Moscow. Honey-colored eyes crinkling with laughter. "Na zdorov’ye!" Vodka shots and cigarettes... There were so many of them.
Beloved.
For no reason at all, he swung the car towards an exit to the beach. The sun was very low in the horizon. Despite the grayness of the sky, many people loitered on the long stretch of sand; eating, drinking, playing netball; merrily celebrating freedom, youth and long weekend.
Daniel knew that very soon he would have to swap his Gremlin for a sensible family car that would fit a car seat for the baby. But before that, perhaps one last drive to the beach to look at the sunset together.
“♪ Thought I heard you laughing…
Thought I heard you sing…
But that was just a dream
Just a dream, dream ♪”
