Golden Burn (Songs of Crime #1)

26. Etta

26

Etta

‘Space Cowboy’ - Kacey Musgraves

“ N o bachelorette party?” the seamstress asks as she pokes the dress I’m wearing with a new pin.

“Sorry?”

“You are not going out before the wedding with all your girlfriends?”

I shake my head. “No.”

She grunts, clearly unimpressed by my lack of plans. I would normally agree, except for the fact that this marriage is a farce and I’m a pawn in a horrible man’s game.

“Your husband a nice man?” she asks, dragging my attention down to her kneeling frame. She pins and pins, making sure the thick satin is flush with my waist and chest.

“No.”

She laughs. “My first husband was a bastard; used to hit me when I couldn’t read his mind. My second husband, much better. Didn’t know how to hang up a towel after a shower, but he always knew when to play music and when to pass me a glass of wine.”

My stomach lurches at the memory of last night. Dinner, wine, knives, guns, my life burnt to the ground.

“That’s lovely,” I manage around my rapidly thickening throat.

I stayed with Martise last night. She held me as I sat on the bed in a daze, my face puffy and my body numb. I fell asleep, curled into a ball, my arms around a dense pillow while a movie on the TV played in the background.

I woke several times during the night, always surprised to see Martise next to me instead of Odin. Still, her presence was needed. Her care and feminine attention was exactly what I craved after such a horrendous night caged in by too many cruel men.

Everytime I think of Cerbera, I dream of sinking my nails into his face and ripping his skin from his skull. I dream of going back in time and stabbing him in the neck instead of playing his stupid game.

Maybe I am my father’s daughter, after all.

Hot-headed. Violent. Unremorseful.

The seamstress hums in response, too many pins between her teeth. We fall back into silence while I observe myself in the large mirror in front of me. The dress I picked was the first one I saw. I could have kept searching, but the second they put a veil in my hair, I knew I couldn’t continue.

For the first time, I saw my mother in my features. I saw her strength, her wide-open view of the world, and her kindness. I saw her in the shape of my nose and my cheeks. The contour of my collarbones and the way I held my shoulders up despite wanting them to sag into the earth and make a home amongst the worms.

Her presence was right next to me, holding my hand and whispering encouragement. I could almost feel the shape of her palm against my own, squeezing tight.

It rocks me to the core, pressing on the wound in my chest that is always seeping, never closed.

Thankfully, I have no more tears left to shed.

I have no more emotions. Period. I’m just a body, my soul wandering far away.

“Like?” the seamstress asks, standing beside me. The dress is a crisp pearl unblemished white satin, with a straight neckline, no straps and a loose mermaid fit. The special feature is the large bow at the back and the gloves that reach up to my elbows. My mother had worn short gloves when she married Shaggy when I was young. I remembered thinking it was silly, knowing they would get dirty when she wanted to eat dinner. Now, I’m glad she did, because I get to carry it on at my own wedding. A little piece of her to take with me during a time that I need her the most.

She grabs a larger veil this time, long enough to trail to the floor at the back and the front. I place it on, covering my face. I want to close my eyes and disappear.

I nod, swallowing the saliva that has built in my throat. “Yes. I like it.”

She nods and takes the veil and the gloves away to pack in a bag. The dress comes off next. “It should be ready by tomorrow,” she says and takes it out the back. I put on my shorts and shirt and leave the dressing room to make my way over to Ford and Gwen. Martise had to stay back at the hotel to check in on the lodge. Omandi’s betrayal left a lot of loose ends that she needs to tie up. I can’t help thinking of him and his decision to do Cerbera’s bidding. The desperation he must have felt. If I had known Cerbera was going to burn down my clinic, I would have done anything to prevent it, even if it meant hurting people I cared about.

“Happy?” Ford asks. He’s been trying to get me to talk all morning. I’ve tried my best, but choosing a wedding dress is not on my list of things to be doing.

“Sure,” I say and shrug. Ford purses his lips and opens the door to let us out into the heat. Gwen is completely out of place as a wedding organizer once again. She’s dressed in a denim skirt, sandals and ripped T-shirt with a famous band on the front. Her eyes are rimmed with the smudged black eyeliner, which suits her tremendously, but also makes her appear standoffish.

“The spa appointment is not for another hour. Did you want to go see some sights?” she asks. She seems antsy. Not particularly happy to be with me. I don’t take any offense; I’ve been horrible to hang around this morning, too.

My answer pauses on the tip of my tongue when I spot something interesting. A group of girls have turned on the street, laughing and giggling as they flip their flowing hair off their faces. They’re dressed up in skirts and dresses and jumpsuits, faces painted with makeup that makes them glow, heading right toward a restaurant with numerous patrons sipping cocktails and being sprayed by a light mist from the fans in the ceiling.

The seamstress’ earlier question comes back to me, as loud as a foghorn. “No bachelorette party?”

Suddenly, my mood shifts. Why shouldn’t I be given a night of fun right before my wedding? Why should I be stripped of every tradition just because this marriage is anything but traditional?

But more than that, I want to experience something other than bone crushing sadness. I want to go to a club and grind on everyone on the dance floor. I want to kiss a stranger, maybe fuck in an alleyway. I’m feeling erratic, irreverent. I want to throw myself at someone and have them meet me halfway.

I want to stop imagining Odin coming to me in the middle of the night, apologizing for his behavior by kissing me fiercely and taking my body into his sweet embrace to show me how much he doesn’t hate me.

I turn to Gwen. “Can we go shopping instead?”

Her smile is strained. “Of course.” She relays the new plans to Ford, who watches me cautiously. Neither one of them offers another suggestion. If this will make me less of a walking ghost, then they will do it.

We hop in a taxi and head to the Piazza di Spagna, famous for the Spanish Steps. The streets spanning out from this tourist hotspot are the perfect place to find all the high-end products and spend someone else’s money.

The rich red and peach-colored buildings with classic architecture crowd the block, and for the first time this morning, I take them in and appreciate their artistry.

Gwen and Ford chat idly as I walk into shops outfitted with marble and black accented shelves. The shop assistants greet me casually until I grab all the expensive dresses and they cue into the fact that I have a bodyguard and an assistant. I try on a dozen different dresses, shoes and accessories. I buy makeup from multiple stores and eat two servings of gelato.

We break for a late lunch, but don’t stay long after the pasta and pizza have been consumed. I’m like an energizer bunny. Restored and fully charged, ready to move even if it’s in the wrong direction. Ford can already tell that something is up with me.

It’s not till we make it back to the hotel, my arms full of bags and bags of products, that he finally breaks. “So, how do you plan to sneak out? ”

I keep my face blank. “Haven’t decided yet. Heels will make it hard to climb out the window.”

We step into the elevator, the space between us charged. “Do you know where you’re going to go?”

“No. Just thought I’d ask the concierge.”

He grunts. Displeased, but also not angry. “Are you going to let me come with you?”

“No,” I say firmly. “I want to… I want to be by myself.”

The elevator door opens, and we head into the apartment. Odin’s cologne hits me instantly and I forget that I’m supposed to be staying with Martise. It seems I want to go to him even though I shouldn’t. My feet take me there even when my conscience reminds me not to.

It’s his fault I’m here. His fault Cerbera burnt down my clinic. It’s his fault I’ll forever be angry.

Shaking my head, I dump all the bags in my bedroom and come back out to address Ford and his concern. “I can handle myself.”

He crosses his arms and leans back on the nearest couch. “Did last night’s little ‘show and tell’ not convince you of how dangerous this situation is?”

“I’ll call you if something happens.”

His expression is resigned. “No.”

“Ford… please.” I sigh and slump into the nearest dining room chair. My head is in my hands before I can catch my neck. “I just need to forget for a little while. And if you come, I’ll be forced to remember.”

Ford looks torn. “I’ll send another agent. Someone you don’t know.”

“No.” I grunt through my clenched teeth.

“Why?”

I sit up, my throat tight and angry. “They might stop me.”

“Stop you from doing what?” Ford asks, confused. He steps closer to me, invading my space, poking me. “What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“None of your business.”

“Etta, come on, just tell me. I’m not going to let you leave alone.”

Anger boils in my stomach. “Leave it, Ford. None of you give a shit about me.”

“Don’t say that. Tell me, please. I can help you.”

“I want to forget about everything !” I screech. Ford flinches. Trembling, I get up and make myself a gin and tonic. Ford remains quiet, watching me. After gulping down three sips of the gin that stings more than it soothes, I gather back my control. “I deserve a night of reprieve. I deserve to have fun.”

Ford’s face falls, eyes swimming with sympathy. For me or for Odin, I don’t know. “Okay,” he says, running his hand through his hair. Striding over to me, he takes my face in his hands, gentle and protective. “If I let you do this, you have to be smart. No drinking and drugs, just dancing.” His brown eyes penetrate mine. “I’m going to drive you there and wait out the front. You’ll wear a tracking watch so I can keep an eye on your location and vital signs, but I won’t come in; I’ll give you privacy.”

My chin wobbles as I nod. “Okay. Thank you.”

His hands are warm on my face, reassuring. There’s no spark like I feel with Odin, but there is an essence of friendship. “I’m sorry about your clinic.”

My eyes water, but I try to forget what he said, try to focus on tonight. I’m doing this for myself. I’m doing this so I can feel something other than heartbreak.

“Get ready. And wear the silver dress. It makes you look like a goddess. ”

A miniscule smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. Ford lets me go so that I can get ready. I put everything I have into my image and when I step out into the dining room, he nods, approving, and slips the tracking watch onto my wrist.

He offers his hand and I take it. I leave behind all my thoughts of Odin and Cerbera and fire and ash, as hard as it is, and strut out in the humid Roman air.