Seraphina curled up on the couch at her mother's house. She had the TV on, watching The Bachelorette in an attempt to distract herself from what her mind was tragically stuck on. The best she could do was move it to third or fourth on her mental list. She found herself staring through the television half the time. Since it was on demand, she kept rewinding to rewatch moments her mind refused to fully process the first time.
How could she have allowed herself to be charmed by a man so full of weakness? He let every little thought that entered his head distract him from what he claimed to love doing. If he could be pulled away from his work this easily, how quickly would he drift from her after they were married—two, five, or ten years down the line?
She knew she couldn't marry him. She needed a man with passion—something steady, unchanging, not flickering every week or two.
Suddenly, she heard voices outside and stood up to look out the window. But then she shrugged and lay back down where she'd been, her eyelids growing heavy. She drifted into sleep.
The next day flew by quickly for Sera. She spent much of it with her mother and her mother's latest boyfriend. The three of them got along surprisingly well, considering Priya, her mother, was originally from Sri Lanka. Priya had come to America shortly after she became pregnant with Sera, fleeing legal trouble involving her boyfriend. She'd lived with her aunt and uncle, raising Sera while finishing school. Priya had a few boyfriends as Sera grew up, but none serious enough to impact her daily life.
The man Priya was seeing now was a white man named Eric. He seemed to have many of the qualities Kyle lacked, and Sera couldn't help but focus on how she wished she could find someone like her mother had. If her mother, aging as she was, could find him, then maybe they really did exist.
Eric was a political advisor working for the challenger in the upcoming gubernatorial race. The candidacy hadn't been announced yet, but that didn't make his job any less stressful. Yet, Eric could switch gears easily when he came home—shutting it off like a switch. If he got a call, he could handle it and be right back with them afterward. Sera was sure that once the race heated up, it would consume more of his time, but for now, it was manageable.
After sunset, she wondered what Kyle was doing but quickly shifted her thoughts elsewhere. She'd had a little too much wine with dinner and fell asleep easily.
Monday passed without incident. Tuesday was much the same. Still no word from Kyle. Maybe he had moved on already, or maybe he'd gotten himself hurt—reckless, like a child with adult abilities, pushing buttons he shouldn't have.
As evening fell, the air cooled, but the ground still radiated the warmth of the day's heat. Sera wandered around her mother's yard, lost in thought.
She had an old iron fence that followed the sidewalk, waist-high. Two large trees flanked the walkway, stretching from the sidewalk all the way up to the concrete step leading into the house. They were so tall that even during the day, they blocked out the sun. The grass beneath was more like moss—green all year round, needing only occasional trimming. There was a hedge wall on both sides of the property, separating her house from the neighbors— the only yardwork she kept up.
She lit a cigarette—a habit from high school she'd been trying to break, but couldn't quite shake.
It was still early, so she decided to take a short walk, knowing her mother would nag her if she smoked on the property. She stopped at a streetlight to finish her smoke when a voice spoke from behind her.
"Do you have another one of those?"
Startled, she spun around quickly. She hadn't noticed anyone approaching. It was as if he appeared out of thin air. He was of average height, with a triangular face, and carried himself confidently, making him seem taller than he was. His head was smooth and perfectly shaped, with light facial hair—dangerous, strong, yet strangely safe all at once.
She fumbled into her pocket, pulled out another cigarette and lighter, and offered them to him.
"Long day?" he asked, his brown eyes flickering with genuine interest.
"Very long," she replied, hoping he'd push further.
"Let me take a guess," he said. "It's your mother, or maybe a boyfriend?"
"Good guess," she admitted.
"Is he stepping out on you?"
"No, nothing like that. Honestly, I don't think he'd know what to do with another woman if he found one."
He gave her a sly grin and stretched out his hand.
"My name's Abraxas. Most call me Brax," he said smoothly.
"Brax? That's an unusual name. I'm Seraphina—everyone calls me Sera," she said, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as her hand touched his.
"Let me know if I step out of line," he said softly, "but I think the real issue is that you don't believe you deserve to have any fun. Maybe after reaching a goal you set for yourself, you refuse to relax when things get stressful or bad."
Her defenses went up slightly.
Brax continued, "There's a club a couple of miles up the road. I was heading that way—my original plan, but the girl I was supposed to meet had a family emergency and canceled. Why don't you come with me? I think it might be just what you need to clear your mind."
She looked him over, feeling the magnetic pull he already had on her. She hesitated, then slowly shook her head.
"I think I'll pass," she said.
"Yeah?" he prompted, giving her a second chance.
"Yeah. I'm calling it a night after this smoke," she replied.
He extended his hand, and a business card suddenly appeared out of thin air.
"I'll leave this with you," he said softly. "If you ever change your mind, call me anytime. A lady as pretty as you shouldn't carry so much stress—you might have an aneurysm or adopt a dog you don't even want."
She burst out laughing, then suddenly spat on his face, cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
"What was that?" he asked, laughing himself.
"That's what I'm talking about," she said, still smiling. "You're so stressed, you laugh and almost kill yourself."
She realized she'd moved much closer to him than she'd intended. Brax started to walk away, then turned back, pointing at her with a knowing look.
"Anytime," he said softly, his eyes locking with hers.
She checked her phone and saw she'd missed a call from Kyle. She listened to his voicemail—rambling about responsibilities at home, about finding his sister, and that he wouldn't be able to talk unless she helped him role-play. She hung up before the message finished and called out, "Brax!… Anytime?"
He held out his elbow as she hurried to catch up.
They entered through the front door—normally used only for the funeral home. It led into an entryway with two doors. The left door led to the funeral home; the right opened into a short hall with an elevator. The elevator panel had three buttons: G, B1, B2.
Brax pressed B2, and the large metal gate closed behind him. The lift began to ascend slowly.
"Before you go in," Brax said, his tone serious, "I want you to let go of all your emotions. Every thought, every feeling—let it all go. If you want to enjoy what's about to happen, you need to see it with new eyes. Can you do that for me, Sera?"
His eyes carried a hint of sadness and honesty.
The lift stopped, and music blared so loudly it felt as if it was still moving. The doors slid open, revealing a scene so intense it was almost overwhelming.
She stepped out behind him, reaching for his hand, as if to brace against the shock. She clutched the rail around the second-floor balcony. Below, nude, semi-nude, and clothed bodies were intertwined in an orgy of freedom and celebration. Her mouth dropped open in shock and shame. Her eyes widened briefly, then closed as she tried to process what she saw.
When she opened her eyes again, her gaze fell on the bar, on Sonya. Without even realizing it, she had bitten her bottom lip and was rubbing her legs together.
He led her into his office—one wall entirely of glass, angled perfectly to give a panoramic view of the entire club floor. She pressed her forehead and hands against the glass, as if to feel what was happening below.