Haute Harlot

Jade was recounting a nightmare.

It was black, then there was light. She stood behind floor to ceiling glass. A brown, tattered couch was propped up against it, where a stranger sat, his back to the couch, the couch to the glass. She stood directly behind him, behind the couch, behind the glass, staring down. She heard him crying, and watched as he reached to the table, not hesitating as he shoved a needle in his arm. She was screaming, but not a sound could be heard. It was as if she was on the other side, because she could hear his breathing, the creaking of the couch as he slightly rocked back and forth. But she couldn’t hear herself. There were no handles on the glass, no holes. There was no way to get inside. Her fists pounded hard as she screamed for what seemed like hours. They bruised, then bled. I can’t save him. And then she felt her heart stop, and as she fell to the ground, so did he. As she opened her eyes, she peered deep into the white distance, and saw a black dot. She walked for miles until she finally reached it, him. The black was ash, the man a stranger. She sat next to him, looking deep into his eyes, and placed her hand out, to wipe away the ash. He quickly seized her arm. Don’t. She then heard an old woman’s voice humming. You’ve been praying to false gods for years, Ijada. Jade couldn’t quite grasp what was happening to her. The woman kept repeating the same phrase, until Jade found herself atop a skyscraper. When the lightning finally made its way out of her eyes, she saw various women lined up, smiling. One by one they began to fall off the edges. No! She ran, placing her hand out to each of them. But it was too late. The old woman’s voice was stern. You must learn, Ijada.

Alexander,

Such a small town such a small town we live in how can I never see you? It’s so small how can I not see you? How can I not feel your touch caress my every being how can I not -

Your scent intoxicates all my senses strong enough that I want to cry when I smell you your smile and eyes make me fall into a deep abyss can’t help but stare at your beautiful face with no shame so fast so little time so much shit happening I can’t even register it all cause all I want is for us to be fucking happy so much love I am so fucking in love -

You weaken me all of me I just want to submit to all of you my heart tells me you’re mine but you’re not i smoke at least a pack a day now i can’t help it -

Harder I miss you and knots in my throat constantly take my breath away the way you do when you caress me I want to look at you and blow kisses you have me wrapped in your world and have no clue how much you mean to me -

I wanna take you away and just give each other to each other no outside influences no inhibitions take you to places you never thought possible forget the fucking we used to do I wanna make sweet passionate meaningful wedding night type shit I want to cater to you grow with you learn from you teach you become all of you -

Can’t be with no one else feels like I’m cheating on you I feel obligated to you until you come back to me -

xxx

Estelle

Violet was the sort of person to pour coffee grounds in a cup, add milk, and drive to work. The careless sort.

We should do this again some time. I don’t want to lose you, he said. Violet paused, biting her lip. I can’t. Even then she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. She’d suffered from Stendhal syndrome since they met. Did you even listen to my voicemail? - From when?  - Fuck, she thought. - You know I don’t pay attention to voicemails. She was floored. He didn’t know. Should I explain? What the fuck should I say? she thought. That was over a fucking month ago. The entire day she maintained her composure. For fuck’s sake they had just gone to see one of the most emotional films of their time and all she could say when they walked out on the sidewalk was, It was good. Caesar, knowing she was the most emotional of them all, gave her a look that said, Why the fuck didn’t you cry? Violet made sure she saw the film a week prior, as to remain of stone for when that very moment occurred. And she stood there, like she was a fucking block of granite, like she wasn’t still in love with the man standing in front of her, like she hadn’t waited to see him after all these months, like she didn’t perfect the makeup and the hair just to reciprocate a smile, some joy radiating from him, caused by her. She wanted him to like her. She wanted him to feel something for her again. Suddenly she was puking in the bathroom stall at Laveau on New Year’s Eve, with drinks still burning through her system. But she picked up her phone and dialed Caesar’s number anyway, only to hear a beep after some words she couldn’t quite make out. And she uttered lines that were completely scripted, that she had written down weeks before, rehearsed in her room several times in the mirror, unsure of whether they’d ever come out in real life. I don’t think you know what it’s like to know someone like you. My heart is broken, but I haven’t been able to stop thinking of your face, and if we could of just.. I, I think I’m in love with you. The rest of the night was a blur.

I left you a voicemail on New Year’s Eve, she began. Saying what? - You should just listen to it, she stammered. But I’m here now, in front of you, just tell me. Violet felt the cold rush over her as they stood on the wide street, cars flying by. She wanted to throw herself in front of one. I had said I think I’m in love with you. He froze. Now she was sure he wanted to lose her. I have to go. She furiously drove away, looking back over and over, to see him walking down the street in the opposite direction, phone in hand, then phone by ear, listening. What now?