Imagine Us in Heaven

Paradoxical

[TW: This part contains content that some might find disturbing, reader's discretion is advised]

✺✳ ┅ ⑅ ┅ ✳✺

It hasn't been very long since I've been in this place when I discovered that the owner is someone who is not a stranger to my past. Well, he just happened to be my brother's longtime partner, Clement Ferguson.

Honestly, I don't want to get involved with anyone from my side of the family or anyone who knows me from before. Reunion? Nah, screw that. I have no desire to see any of them again, no offense. But my luck runs out when a debt collector starts harassing me, and I think I almost end up lying dead on the street. Then Clement steps in, pays off the collector, and takes care of my wounds from the beating.

With this divine being by my side, there's no one I can trust more than Clement. So, whether I like it or not, I put on a brave face and show up at the club.

This isn't just a typical downtown venue. Its charm lies in its classic appearance---a world pulsing with red-hot rhythm, bootleg liquor, and the pure essence of the jazz age. Patrons step into the roaring twenties and truly experience what life was like back then. The bouncers don't block me; Clement has already briefed them. I called ahead, but they still scrutinize my companion, wondering what he hides under that blanket. I reveal that he's wearing wings, and they don't say a word. Sorry, angel, but you're going to have to look a little crazy for now.

"Blythe! What's going on? Don't tell me you're in trouble again?"

The man stands almost as tall as my brother, with saddle brown skin and perfectly chiseled features that could easily belong to a supermodel instead of a club owner. He always dresses for a party, but in an elegant way---not too much, not too little. Just perfect.

"Uh, is there a place we can talk privately? Just the three of us? I need to show you something."

He furrows his brows, shifting his gaze between me and the person behind me, whose hands are intertwined with mine. Then he gives me a knowing grin, which I meet with a glare. Oh great, now he thinks this pretty one is my lover. I'm not against the idea, but if he only knew what kind of being I'm with right now, he wouldn't believe that a devil like me could end up with someone like this.

"Let's go to my office," he gestures, and we follow him, weaving through a crowd of lively people dancing and singing to the syncopated rhythms and rich harmonies.

As I glance at the stage, memories stir in the back of my mind---I used to love performing in front of a crowd. Oddly enough, the person beside me must sense my loneliness because he suddenly squeezes my hand, as if reassuring me that everything will be alright.

Once we're in the office, Clement quickly closes and locks the door. The absence of windows makes it feel even more secure, and he seems to understand the urgency, informing his staff through the intercom not to bother him for at least an hour.

"Blythe," he starts, leaning on the table with his arms folded across his chest. "Before you ask me for another favor, how long are you going to keep your location a secret from your brother?"

I exhale heavily. I know he's having a hard time hiding my whereabouts from Ivor, and our meeting isn't exactly something I want. We meet by accident after so many years, and I'm unaware that he owns this jazz club downtown. If I had known that beforehand, I wouldn't dare show myself on this side of town.

"I'm working on it. First, I need your help."

"Again," he emphasizes. "You need my help again."

My scowl deepens, but I don't contradict him. "Right, I need your help again."