Free Kiss the Stars (Devon Slaughter Book 1) by Alice Bell Page A

gaze
to the last row of seats. A girl sat there, in the middle of the row, by herself.
White light from the projector spilled down on her
    I couldn’t see
her face. I walked up the red carpeted aisle.
    When I got to
her row and saw her profile, my breath caught. The walls of the theater seemed
to close in. She turned toward me and I felt the most terrible ache. Like Ruby,
she wore too much make-up.
    The movie
playing out on the screen cast demonic shadows.
    I went to her. I
looked into her eyes and touched her cheek. She put her hand on my wrist. She
wore a short plaid skirt. She had such long legs. I knelt at her feet and laid
my cheek on her bare thigh. She put her hands in my hair.
    Zadie , I said.
    Devon , she said.
    A repetitive
scratching, like a needle bumping the end of a record, cut through my
consciousness. I found myself standing at the end of an empty aisle. My eyes
were hot. The theater was quiet.
    I stumbled out
the Emergency Exit, onto the sidewalk and into a crowd of people. I shoved my
way through them, eliciting gasps and murmurs. “How rude,” someone said. “What’s
wrong with him?”
    I staggered into
glaring headlights. Tires squealed. Horns blared.
    On the other
side of the street, I leaned against the side of a building. Nausea came over
me.
    I stared at the
marquee. Dracula wasn’t playing. It was the Gothic Revival and people
were lined up around the block for the 1939 showing of Wuthering Heights .
    * * *
    When I reached
Ruby’s house, I was damp with sweat. A pale light shone upstairs in her
bedroom.
    The walk across
town had taken forever. I’d passed by the front door of my building and thought
about crawling into bed. I was afraid if I went to sleep, I would never wake
up. I kept walking.
    I rested my
forehead on the cool pane of her door. When I turned the handle, it caught. I
closed my eyes. Using my last ounce of strength, I broke the lock.
    Inside, a low
murmur caught my attention. It sounded like a man’s voice upstairs. I couldn’t
hone in. My powers were waning. I felt sick, like I had on the long bus ride up
to Tikal, the night the woman in the back of the bus lifted her blanket and her
skirt.
    I thought of her
breath in my ear, her ecstasy filling me with strength.
    I gripped the
banister, as I went up the stairs. The man’s voice carried down the hall. Was
it that bastard, Henry Thorne? I had the idea to smash my fist into his face. I
had told her to go to him but she should have known I didn’t mean it.
    Or had I?
    She should
know better .
    Her bedroom door
was closed. I leaned against it and listened.
    “Come here…sit
next to me,” the man said. I tried to remember the sound of Henry’s voice. “Don’t
be afraid. That’s nice, baby. Now let me see your pretty little stockings.”
    I didn’t like
the way he talked to her, like she was his plaything, but I was too weak to do
anything about it. I stood there, on the other side of the door, disgusted by what
was happening inside and knowing I couldn’t stop it.
    We missed the
ferry to the island and caught a ride on a fishing boat. Huge waves rocked the
boat from side to side.
    The memory
slammed behind my eyes. Maybe I didn’t want to remember. Maybe I wanted to feel
nothing except Ruby’s naked body next to mine. I wished like hell I hadn’t sent
her back to the bar.
    I heard her
giggle.
    “The first time
I saw those great big gorgeous… lips of yours, I knew we had a real
connection, doll. They don’t make dames like you anymore.”
    Dames? I could
barely make a fist, let alone throw a punch. I flung open the door.
    My gaze bounced
crazily off her empty bed, across the room, back to the bed and to her radio. “And
that’s it folks. Join us next week for another episode of I Was A Private
Dick .”Funky music blasted. Christ, it was a farce. I groped for the
volume to turn it off, before my head exploded.
    A slant of light
from the door made a skinny rectangle on the floor. I crept closer. Water
splashed. I