souls of black | fever in, fever out

chapter 136: soft ginger snaps

Sam awoke to the feeling of something soft next to her and it took her a second for her to realize that it was Lars nestled up next to her body. The crown of his head brushed up against her chest and she picked up the smell of the soft cologne that grazed over that soft hair. His hands wandered over the curves of her body and she had a question from that point onward. The corners of his mouth curled up into a content smile, and yet she hoped that he would take her back home once they had finished out their breakfast together.
She stroked his shoulder with the tips of her fingers and then he lifted his head, and he fluttered his eyes open for her.
Those green irises as clear and bright as the aurora borealis over Denmark.
"Good morning," he told her in a soft voice.
"Good morning, Larsish," she retorted.
"Larsish?" he chuckled at that.
"Larsish," she said again. "Are you hungry? I'm hungry."
"I am, yes—" He raised his arms over him and arched his back for a good healthy stretch. "Would you like a European breakfast? An off the charts, belly busting breakfast that will fill you up all nice and good for most of the day?"
"I'd be willing to try it," she told him as she sat up and slid her legs out from underneath the blankets and over the edge of the bed. The cold of the hotel room washed over her bare skin to where it sent goose pimples all the way up her legs and to her bare hips. She thought about Joey back home in upstate with Krista and she tried to not think about what they might have been doing at that point. She thought about Alex and Zelda, and she bowed her head and closed her eyes: she especially didn't want to think about them after that night and that bombshell as well. She tried to think about breakfast and art instead as she showered in that bathroom and then put her clothes back on. Besides the headache, she had no signs of feeling ill or like anything broke between her and him the night before.
Lars meanwhile treated her to that breakfast in question downstairs in the lobby, from the hash browns, the croissants and gravy filled with bits of Italian sausage, the fresh fruit, and the fresh cup of coffee; he had a big cup of black tea which he swore woke him as much as a cup of brew. He sat across from her and treated her to sweet compliments and his little cheekbones; indeed, that breakfast filled her up and it helped with the sharp headache which had placed itself firmly in the very front of her head.
"Literally the best thing for a hangover!" he proclaimed when she told him that, and he raised his white cup of tea to her. She mopped up the rest of the gravy with her last bite of croissant and he had cleaned every morsel on the plate.
"I'm still in Marla and Belinda's place," she told him as he wiped his mouth with the napkin.
"I don't feel like driving anyways," he confessed with a shrug and a wink.
That said, he stood to his feet and he almost lost his balance, but she caught him before he could fall backwards onto the floor.
The golden morning light washed over them: those last days of summer were always something there in New York, especially since they had such definition compared to the bursts of summer in October out in California. Alex was turning twenty three in only a couple of weeks: in previous years, she had done something special for him and a part of her still wanted to do so even for that year. She hoped that Zelda could treat him to something nice: if nothing else for him, then make the whole day for him like she always did.
Sam and Lars were both so warm from the breakfast and the sunlight that they almost didn't make it back home to the apartment. He had to take a seat on the curb just to catch his breath.
"We're pretty much here, though, Lars," she pointed out as she took out the key from the interior pocket of her purse. He leaned back and let out a low whistle: a big yellow taxi rolled up to the curb and he waved them off.
"You wanna come inside?" she offered him as she unlocked the front door of the building.
"Nah, I'm good. Thank you, though." He turned around for one last little grin at her. "Will I see you again?"
"Will I see you again?" she asked him as she opened the door for herself.
"I'm sure I will," he assured her.
Indeed, Lars would often come to visit her there in New York, especially when she had a brand new artwork fresh on display in the gallery. She began referring to the gallery as "the speak easy" because she and Scarlett always served that punch for the patrons: every so often she had a glass for herself, but after that night with Lars where the two of them awoke hungover, there was no way she could drink any more than she was worth. At that point, Marla had changed the color of her hair to a rich solid black and she let it all grow out to a fine feathery hairdo to where Sam believed she had walked right out of the two decades before.
"One of these days I'm gonna do that ombre style again," she promised Sam. "You know, where it shimmered and looked metallic."
Belinda had also cut her blonde hair to shoulder length and she told them both that she planned on keeping it that short. The next day the speak easy was open for business, the two of them showed up and were as in awe of the whole shebang as Jason and Ruben. Marla held before that big nude drawing of Cliff and Sam swore she saw tears well up in her eyes at one point.
"Oh my god," she finally breathed out to her.
"Yeah," Sam told her in a soft voice. "Sometimes—I catch myself looking at that one and I just—I start missing him."
Indeed, that drawing became her most popular: everyone came to the speak easy just to see naked Cliff with the yellow tulips between his legs. One gentleman told her that he could feel her heart in that drawing. She still had yet to show that painting on canvas of Joey and she still had yet to give Alex that very treatment as well; she knew he was right, too. She and Cliff were in love and he allowed her to draw him in the buff like that.
Something that would outlive him even when the bus came down on him. Something that would outlive him even if the music deviated away from his and Lars' legacy.
Meanwhile, Aurora had once again disappeared into her own family life, and whenever Sam thought about it, she always shook her head. Whenever she thought about what Aurora wanted to do with Alex, she wanted to find her and slap her. She never understood the point of it, either, and Aurora never fully elaborated as to her reasoning behind it all.
She never understood it especially when Aurora named her youngest son after her, either. She was her first friend there in New York and yet she just wandered off into Emile's arms and never looked back for a second.
Every day, she rose up through the New York art world with more and more people coming into the speak easy. And every single day, she had a faint hope within the back of her mind that either Joey or Alex would walk in through that door once again, the latter especially given his birthday was headed their way. Every day she hoped that Zelda could do something for him.
On the twenty sixth, and the day before the anniversary of Cliff's death, she convinced Scarlett to close it for the next day to commemorate him, to which she complied. Sam returned home where she caught the light blinking on Marla and Belinda's answering machine: at some point, she would have her own and she needn't have to worry about them returning home to check on it before she did.
But she set down her bag on the counter and she pressed the button for the playback.
"Sam? Hi, it's Aurora. Give me a call as soon as you can—it's pretty important." The tone to her voice seemed extra serious, as if there was something behind her. She shook her head again and she knew for a fact that it concerned Alex.
She turned to the phone on the wall and dialed Aurora's number.
It rang once, then twice—
"Hello?" She sounded flustered.
"Aurora? It's Sam."
"Hi, um—listen," she began in a low vcoie. "I have to tell you something—and just for reference, it has nothing to do with you or Alex."
Sam stopped and she looked on at the phone receiver, baffled.
"I'm begging you this right now that I don't want you to be mad at me for this," she continued.
"Go ahead," Sam coaxed her, and she heard her sigh on the other end.
"Emile—left."
Sam stopped again.
"He—left?" She furrowed her brow at that, and then she set a hand on her hip. "What do you mean he left?"
"He left. Packed his bags and left without telling me and the kids goodbye. He told me that he was going somewhere new."
The silence filled the apartment behind Sam, such that Genie didn't even make a noise from the couch.
"I'm—so sorry, Aurora." Sam glanced about the floor in search of the right words. "Do you know where he went?"
"I don't," she replied in a soft voice. "My guess is he went back to New Orleans but I can't say anything, though. And I want to apologize to you and also Alex for being such a bitch to you both." She fetched up a shuddered sigh, and Sam wished she was there in her apartment so as to comfort her.
"I will tell you that... I'm still thinking of firing Alex, though. I want to release him from Testament or I'll release them from their contract."
"Why?" Sam demanded.
"We are hemorrhaging money right now," Aurora replied in a calm tone. And so I have to cut off the head. The main arranger at the helm, and that's Alex."
"You know you don't have to do that, Aurora," Sam cautioned her. "Alex hasn't done anything wrong, okay? Don't look for excuses to get rid of him."
"This isn't an excuse, though," she pointed out, curt, "more people are starting to pay a lot more attention to Seattle and the whole scene up there, especially Nirvana and—who's that other band? Pearl Jam. They dropped their album back in late August and the phones have been ringing off the hook over here since then. More are starting to pay more attention to them and away from the thrashers and the glamorous ones."
Sam paused at that final tidbit.
"You know," she noted in a low voice, "come to think of it, I haven't seen Motley Crue or any of that big hair on TV in—weeks. Like, literal weeks. Well, Marla and Belinda don't have a TV so I haven't been able to see it for myself, but still."
"Yeah, believe me—it's just the beginning, too. The phones are ringing off the hook back at headquarters—people want more variety in their music. They want more distortion, more of that humble voice and fluidity that's marked Nirvana, and more... a word I've been hearing a lot in the past month is 'alternative'. They're wanting more alternatives in comparison to what's been shown to us for the better part of a decade. Just like—I'm sure you know—variety in their art."
"Boy, do I ever," Sam remarked as she folded her arm over her chest.
"I caught wind of your new art gallery, by the way," she continued and she sniffled. "I just—I feel so bad that I've been such a shitty friend to you, and also Marla and Belinda since I got married. But to you especially. I feel like I should've been there on the day it opened to the public. I feel like I should've been better to you this whole entire time. I mean, you and I were the first ones together here in New York—when I met you, I thought, 'oh my god! Fellow California girl!' and you were so understanding towards me and my heritage. I named my son after you, for fuck's sake."
"How is little Teddy, by the way?" she asked her with a little chuckle.
"He's taking a nap. Phoebe and Elizabeth are, too. I want you to meet these kids, Sam. Meet them before they start growing up."
Sam thought about her parents right then and the fact that her mother had yet to visit the speak easy.
"Did I tell you my parents split?" she spoke.
"No?!" Aurora gasped.
"Yeah, they did. A couple of years ago. I was talking to my mom about it and she told me that they were bound to split apart. But things get messy when there's kids involved."
"That," she said in a broken voice, "is an understatement. My kids didn't understand why their father just—walked out on them to say in the least. And I definitely want any bad blood between us."
"Me, neither," Sam told her. Aurora then gasped again. "You okay?"
"Yeah—I think Phoebe's starting to wake up. I think she's hungry."
"Aurora?"
"Yes?"
"Hug those kids for me."
"I will!" she declared. "By the way, are you still at Marla and Belinda's place?"
"Yeah, but I'm looking for places around here in Hell's Kitchen, though. I might be able in the next month or so if everything goes well. And everything is going well, too."
"When you do find your own place we'll come over as a house warming gift of sorts," Aurora vowed despite the nonchalant tone to Sam's voice.
"I'll be waiting for you," she promised her.
"By the way... referring back to that band, Pearl Jam." Aurora cleared her throat again. "They're formed out from the guys from that band Mother Love Bone."
"Really?" Sam was stunned.
"Yeah. Like over the past year or something like that, they finally pulled themselves out of their depression and found a drummer and a singer and now here they are with a big debut album. You should listen to them, Sam, they're—they're really cool. Very different sounding, too. Think: the hard rock that the boys grew up listening to but... more. That's really the only way I can describe it."
"Well, a lot can happen in a year," she assured her.
A girl's voice on the other end caught her attention.
"Okay, I'll be right there, sweetie—" Aurora said, and she returned to the phone. "I gotta go, Sam. I'll talk to you soon."
"You, too, Aurora."
And they hung up at the same time. Sam sighed through her nose and Genie slunk into the kitchen with her tail erect for her. She stooped down to pet her and she returned the favor with a loud rich purr. Her soft little black paws stepped upon the top of her foot and she peered up at her from under her knee.
"Hi, baby—" Sam picked her up and held her close to her chest: she purred even louder at the feeling. The one drawback with finding her own place near there was that she couldn't hold that black cat as often. She couldn't let that cat curl up next to her when she lay down to sleep that night.