Break
> > "No! Stop! I won't!"
Angela woke up.
The same nightmare again. Always the same nightmare.
Her arm reached next to her; where'd he go?
She looked on the floor. Pan-Pan lay there, blind smile as always. She reached down and grabbed him, noticing the shaking in her hand.
Damn. It's getting worse.
Gripping Pan-Pan tightly under one arm, Angela padded out to the kitchen. The water glass rattled against the spigot as she filled it.
Now she just had to wait. She hoped Pan-Pan could handle the pressure.
And as Xanax rebuilt the walls that kept out panic, their shadows fed her loneliness.
Loneliness made her think of Ricky.
Ricky. The way she'd found him -- the way they'd found each other -- it was a perfect heart-rending romantic tale, all the more precious for the epic tragedy that had framed it.
Alas, the strong feelings that blossomed in the face of calamity weren't enough. No, actually they were too much.
And yet now she felt a strong pull toward a man she knew was all wrong -- too old, too experienced, too successful, too eager, too sexy, too good to be true. After an initial run of twitterpation, learning his criminal intent had set her against him, matching wile for wile. And yet... she still felt something for him despite herself. That her emotions could run counter to her beliefs just made her question everything -- especially her breakup with Ricky. If Dino wasn't right, how could she be sure about Ricky? How could she trust her feelings? She couldn't.
She couldn't trust herself at all.
And that ruined her. Because she knew she had to be alone. And she knew she couldn't live that way.
She'd always thought of herself as a loner. Except for her mom, she thought she didn't need anyone. Never longed for friends or popularity or a boyfriend all through school, though none seemed out of reach, and she'd played at all of them, just to see what they were like (and to keep her mom from worrying). But she was always happy being by herself, keeping people at arm's length, entertaining herself with idle thoughts and daydreams. It was as if she'd been waiting for the sapphires all along, as if Fate had singled her out and shaped her for her task.
But then she'd been pushed to the breaking point. And in the calm after the chaos, it was Ricky who picked up the pieces. Just by being there. No, it had been so much more than that -- a profound compatibility, a yin to her shattered shifting yang. Somehow sensing when she needed to eat, to sleep, to move, to be left in solitude, to talk, to listen, to be distracted, to be focused, to laugh, to cry, to know the answers, to say "I don't know," to be held.
Damn that boy's heart. Damn him for making me need someone.
And damn him all the more for not being the one I need.
"Angela."
Shoot. Sasha caught her. "Yeah?"
"You are late." Delivered in that stereotypical Russian accent that would be funny if he weren't so spookily humorless.
"Sorry." Angela snapped her locker shut. She checked her hair and makeup and adjusted her blouse and skirt, making sure her motions were quick to emphasize that she was energized and ready to work and any further discussion would only hold her up. In truth she was caught in another slow-motion Xanax stupor, but she didn't need the boss knowing that.
"Know your shift. Be on the time. And do not sleep on-job. Sleep at home. Here work is party, hard work is hard party." He tried to smile, but failed miserably.
"Won't happen again," Angela assured, wondering after the fact if her choice of words accidentally mocked the Russian's oversimplified English.
"I know," Sasha answered, matter-of-fact.
Angela was a little spooked. She remembered his words when she'd first met him: Dino interviews. Sasha finds work.
To which she now added: Girl loses work.
Angela sat quietly at the small table in the break room. She'd just finished her lunch. Well, by the time of day it was dinner, but since it was halfway through her shift Sasha called it lunch.
The evening was just crawling. One A.M. seemed days away. (At least she had the early shift tonight.) Angela was trying to remember if she'd doubled up on her Xanax by mistake. She certainly felt that way, much thicker than usual. Slower. And... dumber. She just couldn't keep her orders straight. It was supposed to be time for another pill, but she was thinking about skipping it, or at least waiting a while until she returned to normal. Wherever normal was.
"Hey, you all right?" A friendly voice.
"Hi, Zora. What's up?" Dancers didn't usually come back here; they had their own dressing area that was off-limits to the rest of the help.
"What's up with you? You look like shit out there."
"Gee, thanks." But Angela knew Zora was just being concerned. "I'm just really tired."
"Well you're never gonna make it like that. The guy in the corner was so pissed at you, he actually went looking for Sasha."
Angela dropped her head in her hands. Oh no. I'm gonna be fired. Dino'll be mad. Miguel'll really be mad.
"Hey, it's okay. I intercepted him and took him in the back for a private dance. He's happy. I sat him down in Jessie's section."
"Thanks." It was nice to have someone looking out for her.
"Happy to do it, but these tits can only do so much. You need help. Come on. I've got just the thing."
Zora reached down and grabbed Angela's hand, hauling the smaller girl to her feet and tugging her down the hall to the dancers' dressing room. Angela worked so hard just keeping her balance she didn't get a chance to voice any protest.
And suddenly, her senses were under assault. Perfumes. Baby powder haze. A bumping body hustling past. A long rack full of bright-colored fabrics. A mirrored wall pastiched with photos, notes, dollar bills with scribbles, little kids' drawings. More cosmetics than a department store.
It was another world.
And its queen was not amused.
"What the hell are you doing in here?" Kat. The words hit Angela as if she'd been slapped.
"She's with me," Zora replied.
"Well, she's not supposed to be here." Kat turned back to Angela. "Dancers Only!"
Angela looked at her feet. Kat intimidated her. Especially standing there wearing nothing but a sequined thong.
Katerina Novak was a First Class Bitch, but if anyone could get away with it, Kat could. Nobody made as much in tips, nobody was in higher demand for private dances (and nobody commanded a higher price). Customers loved her, and she had more deep-pocket regulars than anyone. Kat walked around like she was too good for even a classy white-hot new club like Ten -- and she might have been right.
With an angelic face and a body that was a little too short and a lot too curvy for a career as a model -- at least one as glamorous and famous and profitable as she felt she deserved -- to say that Katerina Novak was gorgeous ruined the word for anyone else. Flawless pale skin, shoulder-length curls in a dozen shades of blonde, and steel-gray eyes that never went without outfit-coordinated colored contacts. She was older than most of the dancers at Ten -- she'd supposedly just turned twenty-nine, and nobody would suggest it hadn't been the first time -- but knowing this only made her more remarkable. And her experience gave her moves both on and off stage that put everyone else to shame.
She'd danced in posh clubs in LA, New York, and Miami. The rumor was that Moroshkin had met her on a trip back east and lured her to Oak Valley to dance at his Club Sterling with a $10,000 check and a swanky downtown condo. Everyone assumed she'd done a lot more than dance for Moroshkin, but nobody said anything to her face. Especially now that she was dancing at Ten for Dino. Nobody knew whether she danced at Ten because of a falling-out with Moroshkin or vice-versa, but even mentioning Moroshkin around Kat was verboten.
Kat and Angela were about the same height, but standing in front of Kat in her domain made Angela feel about six inches tall.
Zora quickly went to her bag and pulled out a small bottle. A detour to the water cooler procured a cup on the way back to Angela. Kat just stood in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, tapping a high-heeled foot, her head following Zora the whole time.
"Take it outside," she snapped.
"Chill out, baby Barbie," Zora said as she grabbed Angela by the elbow and pulled her outside. Kat followed them out to the hall and was about to say something when an intercom beckoned her: "Kat, two minutes." The dancing queen spun on her heel and retreated, slamming the dressing room door shut behind her.
Zora and Angela stopped in the hall. Zora put the water cup in Angela's hand.
"I shouldn't have come back here," Angela said, her voice still betraying her shrunken sense of self in the face of Kat's wrath.
"Relax. She's harmless. She cares too much about herself to devote more than a few seconds of attention to anyone else. She won't even remember you tomorrow. Now, here." The tall dancer snapped open the plastic bottle and kicked out a pill, offering her palm to her waitress friend.
"What is it?"
"Energy in a pill. Relax, it's not an upper. They prescribe it in Europe to help with physical therapy, but it also works as a general pick-me-up. It's totally safe."
"I don't know," Angela hesitated. Would it interact with Xanax?
"I take 'em sometimes when I need a boost. A lot of the girls do. It's pretty popular in the clubs, too. Nobody's died or anything. It's harmless. Like coffee, but without the jitters."
"It's just that I... I mean, I don't take drugs." Xanax was medication; that was different.
"Listen, Angela, I'm not trying to push anything on you, but if you don't get out of this fog you're in, Sasha won't let you finish the shift." Meaning she also wouldn't get another one.
Zora was right -- Angela was really out of it. She'd already dropped her tray once. She was screwing up orders right and left, even forgetting some completely. And the whole world seemed to be in fast-forward around her.
"Well?"
She'd said it was for physical therapy, right? That's what Dino said too when he tried to give her something the day she moved. The same thing he gave her last night... Last night was such a far-away blur now; she didn't remember much, but she did remember she hadn't felt so good in a long time...
"What's it called?" she asked.
"Um," Zora looked at the label, "the bottle says purclazapram. Dino says they're gonna call it um, Perfect, Perfecta... *Perfectua* once it's approved. I just call 'em my Purple Power Pills."
"You got it from Dino?"
"Yeah, I guess. Or maybe from Tina, I forget who turned me on to it first. Anyway, it's just what the doctor ordered."
Angela looked at the capsule in Zora's hand. It was kind of a light purple, or lavendar color. Should she? If it was what she thought it was, she'd already taken one and nothing bad happened. (Well, she'd slept with Dino, but she'd pretty much made up her mind she was going to do that before dinner that night.)
"Angela! You are working." Sasha's voice boomed in the narrow hallway.
Angela snatched the pill out of Zora's hand and threw it against the back of her throat. Three seconds later, the paper cup in her hand was empty.
"Just coming off lunch, Sasha," she said as she hustled after him.
"...and a Screaming Viking."
"Do you want the cucumber peeled?"
The guy's smile went slack. She wasn't supposed to know what it was... that took all the fun out of it.
"Um, yeah. I guess. Whatever's usual."
Yeah, that's what I thought. You have no idea, buddy.
Angela smiled as she strutted off toward the bar. She was getting the hang of this. She wasn't even having to remember to smile.
But her mood suddenly turned foul when she saw Dino enter the room.
She should be happy to see him. He'd given her this job -- a pretty good job, considering the tips (and considering the no-clothing alternative gyrating a few feet away onstage). And they had a thing going.
Or so she thought until she saw who he was with.
She didn't know the girl, but she knew the type. Tall, leggy, curvy, wearing a cocktail dress that seemed smaller than the napkins on Angela's tray.
Did she have to stick her tongue in his ear like that?
Did he have to grin like an idiot when she did it?
Shit, here he comes...
"Oh, hi Angela. How's it going?"
"Fine." Her answer was curt -- not that he seemed to notice.
"Great! I'd ask you to join us, but I saw on the schedule you're closing. Maybe next time!"
Join them for what? The tonsil-hockey semifinals?
"Anyway, can you get me a drink? Double Glenlivet 21. And an um... Honey?"
Honey. Was that her name, or was she his girlfriend for the night?
"Um, a slow comfortable screw on the rocks." She giggled. As if she was the first person ever to recognize the double entendre.
Her and about a dozen other people tonight, Angela grumbled.
"Sure, no problem. Be right up."
Angela waited for her order.
"Hey."
"What?"
"You mad?"
"Why do you say that?"
"Because if you clench your fists any tighter you're gonna start to bleed all over my bar."
"Oh. It's nothing."
"Yeah. Okay. Well, here's Dino's order. Don't kill him -- at least until he's signed my check."
Angela was not amused.
She leaned up against the wall in the back hallway, looking out the doorway across the club to where Dino sat with his "date." Ooooh! The nerve of that guy. It was like he was flaunting his latest conquest. Slapping Angela in the face. Publicly humiliating her. (Never mind that nobody at work knew she'd gone out with him. At least she didn't think anybody knew. Maybe those two girls who'd walked in on her had said something.)
As she stared and seethed, she noticed a strange expression come over the Other Woman's face. Like she was distracted. Staring off into space. What was her problem?
It wasn't until the woman started shivering that Angela realized what was going on.
It was an orgasm.
The woman shook her head clear, taking several deep breaths as she came back around to reality. A moment later, Dino got up, took her hand, and led her somewhat unsteadily out of the club.
Angela's vision tunneled.
Why is he doing this to me? Why is he torturing me? What's wrong with me? Am I ugly?
God I'm so stupid. I'm just a stupid little girl to him. He doesn't even think of me that way. I forced myself on him. He didn't even want me. Why not? Isn't it obvious? I'm not even in the same league with these girls.
What was I thinking? How could a man like that be interested in someone like me?
God I'm so stupid. Stupid! What am I even doing here?
Her breathing was rapid. Her thoughts buzzing her brain like angry wasps, stinging her from all directions. Her chest felt tight.
And Panic rode in, its lance bearing down on her.
Oh, God, no. Not now. I need my Xanax. No, I can't take it anymore, it's hurting me. But this is what happens when I don't take it.
I never should have left the Aquinos. I need to see Dr. Ward. But she hates me. She probably told all the other doctors not to see me. She did this to me on purpose.
Dino must hate me. He must think I'm worthless. He's just using me. He knows about Miguel.
Someone from the Labor Day party will recognize me. The government will come back to get me. They'll do experiments on me.
The sapphires messed me up. Did the explosion change them? Black Widow? Ginger? They made me like this.
God, I'm getting worse. This is the worst one. Why won't it end? It's never going to end.
This job is a trick. They're going to make me dance. I don't want to dance. I don't want anyone looking at me.
I can't breathe. Why can't I breathe? It hurts.
I'm having a heart attack. I'm going to die. Someone call... Where is everyone?
They'll notice. I'll be fired. I don't have any money. I'll be homeless like Harold.
No one cares. There's nobody left. I've pushed everyone away. Why do I do that? What's wrong with me?
Why can't I stop shaking?
Someone is next to her. Another waitress. Angela doesn't know her name. "Are you all right?"
She's clenched tight, teeth bared, rapid shallow breathing. The girl says something to someone else. Who else is here? "She's having a seizure."
Angela feels something touch her shoulder; she jerks involuntarily. "Don't touch me!"
She vaguely hears the other person. A familiar voice. "No, it's not a seizure. It's a panic attack. A really bad one." The other person kneels next to her. Zora? "Do you have medication?"
It's so hard to move. Her whole body is shivering and jerking. It's even harder to concentrate. A million thoughts, a million voices at once, all of them frightening, clamoring to a fever pitch. Do you have medication?
She gets her hand to her pocket. In her apron. Her locker key. She feels someone reach into the pocket for her.
Water. "Can you drink? Here." To her lips. She wears most of it.
"Here. Your pill." Pressed between her lips. She's shaking like she's just been in freezing water. She imagines she's turning blue, though she probably isn't. More water. She chokes and coughs and sprays, but eventually gets the pill down.
I'm breathing so fast. I can't breathe. Why won't they leave me alone? They're going to turn me in. Sasha will fire me. Dino won't ever speak to me again. Nobody will.
Then she feels it. Not just calm, but... clarity. It takes a few minutes, but just feeling the earliest stirrings helps her calm down and wait for it.
Her breathing calms down.
"I think she's gonna be okay."
"Don't tell Sasha."
"Why not? I don't want to be working with her if she's gonna pull a stunt like this."
"It's not a stunt. She can't help it. God, don't be such a bitch."
"Well, whatever. She should have told someone to watch her."
"She probably didn't know. Maybe she forgot her meds."
Angela looked up. It was just Zora and the girl she didn't know now. "I- I think I'm okay now," she said. They looked down at her.
"You sure?" Zora asked.
"Yeah." Angela stood up. "Thanks. It's never been that bad before."
"Did you forget to take your meds or something?" The other girl's tone was just shy of accusatory.
"Yeah. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."
The girl softened. "That's okay." Even if maybe it wasn't.
"Dang, Angela, you have to be more careful," Zora warned. "I didn't know you were on meds. Maybe I shouldn't have given you the other stuff."
"It's okay. I'm all right now. I don't usually forget. It's like you said, the stress."
"Okay, girl. You wanna take the rest of the night off? I'm sure the other girls will cover."
"I'm not," Angela said with a wan smile. "It's okay now. I feel fine. Actually, I feel great." She really did, which freaked her out a little bit -- normally an attack left her drained. Or the Xanax that stopped the attack left her drained. Maybe the other stuff was still working, and it balanced out the Xanax somehow. Oh, if only that could be true.
Still, fine or not, she thought being around other people for a little while longer might be smarter than heading home alone. This was the scariest attack she'd experienced since... since that first time with Ricky, the one that didn't happen. She blocked the thought out of her mind. Back to work. There were tables to be cleared...
Angela hung her apron in her locker. She fished the key out of its pocket and dropped it into her purse. She was about to close her locker when she remembered there was something else in that pocket.
The other pill Zora had given her. The Purple Power Pill. After seeing how well the first one worked, Zora had dropped one in Angela's apron "for next time."
Angela didn't know when Next Time might be -- she still wasn't keen on the idea of taking somebody else's "pre-legal" pills -- even if they did seem to be pretty wonderful. But just the same, she didn't want to lose it. Better put it someplace safe...
...once she found it. Fingers dug in the pocket for a long time, checking every corner and seam several times. It wasn't there.
Had she dropped it somewhere? She looked on the floor of the locker, then the floor of the room.
Did she put it in her pill case and not remember? She checked her purse. Her emergency pill case usually had four Xanax in it. She wasn't supposed to be popping them like candy, and she didn't, but she never knew when she might be out somewhere when it was time for a dose, and the way things had been going lately, she didn't even want to be a few minutes late with one.
There should still be four pills in there now, since she'd skipped her "lunch" -- boy, was *that* stupid -- no, wait, three, because someone had gone to her locker and gotten one for her when she'd had her attack.
So why were there four? Four peach pills. No purple pill.
She remembered someone fishing in her pocket for her locker key. Right?
No, not her key. The pill.
Oh, no. They gave me Zora's pill instead of Xanax.
Waitaminute. If that's what happened, why am I okay?
Perfecta or whatever Zora had called it wasn't Xanax. How could it have the same effect?
Angela took a deep breath, listening to her body. She felt fantastic. Like she'd felt earlier with the first dose. Like she'd felt with Dino.
Like she felt as Sapphire.
No, not the same effect as Xanax. A better effect.
Angela suddenly felt a well of confidence. This was a real breakthrough.
This was just what the doctor ordered.
This was just what Sapphire needed.