Taboo Unchained(44)

“You're blowin' smoke up my ass, aren't you?” Audra asks, letting that sexy Southern drawl ooze out from between her lips. From what I've seen, she doesn't allow it to happen often. I must have truly caught her by surprise.

I smile.

“You still haven't answered my question,” I tell her, putting the peppers gently into the bag and dropping it by my side. All around me, the world is teeming with life. The fountain in the center of the plaza sprays cool streams of water into the air at random intervals, drawing screams of joy and excitement from the children gathered around its stone edges. Booths rest in well-deserved quiet, hidden in the shadows of their awnings, farmers peddling their wares in a way that may soon die out. The day the world's food is purchased packaged solely in plastic, crammed into bins and shelves and soulless supermarkets, that is the day humanity will truly fade to nothing.

I pause next to a booth ripe with red strawberries, bursting from green baskets like explosions of summer. I lean down and let my eyes flutter closed, allowing the wash of darkness to recede, just a bit. Food is the essence of life, and a true connection to the soul. It's the only way I have left to feel it anymore, the only way I can be certain I've still got one in there somewhere, deep down and buried in black.

“It's not possible that you work here,” she repeats, her voice taking on a strange, tinny quality. I pass some money to the vendor and snatch up several baskets of strawberries. When I realize Audra isn't following after me, I pause and glance over my shoulder, catching her in a glassy eyed trance. People stream around Audra Holiday as if she doesn't exist. They laugh and smile, tease one another, press ripe cherries between porcelain teeth. Nobody notices the girl who's drowning in the midst of it all.

Interesting.

I turn back towards Audra and take a few, careful steps. I imagine that this face, this empty gaze and slack jaw, were one of the last images Mark ever got the chance to see. I approach with caution.

“It's not possible that you work here because my brother does. He's spent every Saturday here since he was fifteen.” Audra snaps to with a defiant leer, shouldering past me and continuing on through the throng of normalcy like she belongs here. I don't bother to chase after her, but I do head in that general direction, picking up some onions along the way. When I come across Audra again, she's waiting for me on a bench, one hand resting on her pale thigh, the other holding an apple to her lips. “I come here every so often to check on him, and I've never once seen you.”

“Are you so certain?” I ask, stopping for just a moment to stare out across the square of green grass that frames the central plaza. A band has just taken up the stage, filling the air with the sweet, sharp sounds of an amateur musician.

Audra snorts at me and stands, scraping her teeth down the apple's white flesh.

“Oh, I'm sure.” She nods her chin at me and we move on without discussing her strange episode. I'm more than willing to, of course, provided we're both naked and a price has been agreed upon. Until then, this is nothing more than a fluke, one last moment of walking with Audra Holiday as simple strangers. “So what are you really? A chef?”

I smile, a genuine one this time. I find it amusing that she's still entertaining the idea that I'm anything more than I appear.

“I told you, Miss Holiday, I'm a demon who drinks in darkness. That's it.” She raises both red brows at me and puts on a sickly sweet smile for some teenage boys who are checking her out. If I were Audra, their penetrating gazes and lascivious smiles would put me into a frenzy. Her coping mechanism is to pretend she likes it, to trudge through life as if she doesn't care that she's constantly objectified. Her emerald eyes tell a different story however. Fury burns bright as the sun, but she doesn't acknowledge it.

“You mean you make a living off … ” Audra's voice trails away and she shrugs, shaking her head in disbelief. “You know, when I got up this morning, my bank account was a hell of a lot less negative. That Clarice Braxton bitch actually paid us for what happened yesterday.” Audra pauses, thinks for a moment. “Actually paid me. I think she's in love with you or something.” I shudder involuntarily and try to hide the motion under the pretense of removing my jacket and draping it over my arm. As per usual, Audra doesn't miss the motion. “But you hate her, don't you?” I refuse to respond to that and continue on towards the arts and crafts section of the market. It's not my favorite spot – most of the items here are too homemade, not professional enough for my taste – but the crowd is thinner and the air seems cooler. “Do you hate Pam, too?”