Page 10 of Wicked Angel
I couldn’t remember. Everything was kinda hazy.
I dragged myself out of bed. I hated sleeping late. Felt groggy and off all fucking day. I liked my morning wellness routine. But I also liked an endless night, a lot of booze, and an enthusiastic woman. These things butted up against my diet, my workouts and my music regimen at sharp fucking angles.
I picked up my phone again and turned on some music; myWake Upplaylist started rocking through the speakers all over the house. I mercilessly cranked the volume to ear bleeding levels, then staggered into the bathroom and got the shower running, as I tried to remember what day it was. My phone said it was Friday and according to several messages from my manager, Yash, I had a meeting with my record company in just over an hour.
I thumbed through the messages, swiping away the ones from Brianna without reading them, instead opening the ones from Yash.Where are you?Can you make it or not?
I texted him back.I’ll be there.
Then I got in the shower and soaped off last night. Dripping wet, I shut off the water and stalked over to the patio doors, opening them to the fresh air. It felt cool on my hot skin. It was June, warm but not yet hot outside.
Naked and steaming, I stepped out onto the upper patio that ran the length of my bedroom and bathroom. Could’ve headed downstairs through the house, but I liked going this way better.
I glanced down into the backyard, then next door, but no one seemed to be around. The whole lot, including the adjacent one next door that I’d bought a few years back and integrated with mine, was surrounded by tall, old trees, blocking out the view of neighboring houses. Maximum privacy.
I walked down the stairs to the deck that surrounded the pool, then under the stairs, past the giant party hot tub. And into the “gym” at the back of the house, which was really more of a state of the art fitness center equipped with every tech innovation I could get my hands on, from an AI adaptive bike to a Red Light Therapy bed. I didn’t have time for any of those right now, or for the sauna, unfortunately.
I went straight to the in-ground cold plunge pool. The water inside was just several degrees above freezing.
I hated this part, but the shock to my lymphatic system was the quickest way to jumpstart my day, improving stress management, boosting performance of my immune system and a myriad of other health benefits. Polar opposite of last night: this would suck during and feel amazing afterwards.
I cupped my balls and jumped. Just before I crashed into the water, I shut my eyes.
And I saw his face.
The man in the front seat.
Then the cold hit my system, whiting out everything else. Like an ice-cold shot of electricity through my core.
Shock.
Alertness.
Focus.
My dad’s words to me, like they sometimes did, smashed into me. Something from the Bible. Something he’d misinterpreted.Immersion in the lake of fire.He thought it would make me feel better. That it was a purifying, a cleansing by God.
That we all were worthy of this cleansing and must seek it out.
Even me.
I didn’t believe him or his holy words. Even then, as a kid, I knew that the lake of fire wasn’t a cleansing. It was a punishment.
The eternal burning of the wicked.
My feet hit the bottom and I shot to the surface. Inhaled, like a baby sucking back its first breath, about to scream.
Reborn.
Everything wiped clean, reset, for just a moment.
For just a moment, there was no car. No blood-rain on the windows.
No man in the front seat.
There was only this.
Pain.
