Jenny's smile turned sour as if she had eaten a lemon.
Everyone at the table listened intently, while the crowd watching the game almost swallowed their tongues. For a moment, everyone's first thought was that this was just a game.
When Jerry burst out laughing, the whole place relaxed and started laughing. Everyone was laughing as if they were lost. Tim Carold said with a playful smile, "Yeah, if anyone of you gets lost, suspect me."
Everyone was happy to go crazy tonight. Tim had also attracted the attention of many young women. Jenny tried to smile warmly as if she was relieved, but there seemed to be a problem - her lips had cooled.
Now, all eyes were on the angel parchment. Was the confessor going to eat the parchment? Between held breaths, Tim smiled charismatically, narrowing his blue eyes. "Jenny, I love you," he whispered.
Jenny blushed and bowed her head slightly. Her hair fluttered gently around her neck.
"Go ahead and eat the parchment, man," Jerry said, clapping his hands.
Wave, coming to his senses a little late, took his eyes off Tim. "I agree; it's time for a real confession, Tim." He tossed his hair and lifted his elbow off the table. "This night has become a farce of lies. I'm not going to get killed on the way out, am I?"
"If one of us is lost, it's Tim," Jenny repeated with newfound confidence. But there was still a lack of sincerity in the curve of her lips. Wave nodded. "That's right," he said softly. "Aren't you going to eat the cookie?" Jerry asked.
"If you're lying, you'll get poisoned," someone at the table joked.
"It's just a myth though," another added.
Jerry smirked, as if he didn't agree at all. Tim took a bite of the cookie. Then, another cheerful tune began to play.
A Japanese woman in a white apron came over, cleared the table, and filled the tray with dishes. "Good luck, I'll get the next batch," she said, returning with the tray.
Jenny looked at Tim as he licked the flour from his lips. She felt unexpectedly drawn to him. Her body was drawn to Tim's like a magnet.
She found her head resting on his arm. Tim wrapped his long, thin-fingered hand around her waist with reassuring warmth and said, "You're amazing. Your hair won't just make you the most beautiful girl of the night."
"What else will it do?" asked Jane in a hopeful voice. Being so close to him was both thrilling and unsettling.
As Tim skillfully guided her through the sweaty, alcohol-scented bodies in the venue, Jenny let her steps follow his.
They found themselves in a long corridor, dimly lit by a dark yellow light. "Where are we going?" she asked.
Tim, in a mysterious manner, pushed open a door to the right with his shoulder and held out his hand to Jenny. "We'll sleep."
Jenny stared at the hand reaching out to her.
As she grabbed it tightly, a red ring appeared around Tim's wrist, as if he had pressed his hand against a broomstick.
She couldn't help but study the mark carefully, but the last thing she did was enter the room with him.
***
When Tim opened his eyes, he saw that the left side of the bed was empty. After rubbing his face, he stood up without caring where he was, grabbed his phone from the nightstand, and snatched his jacket with his free hand.
He realized he wanted to get the hell out of this place. Jenny was gone, and judging by the fact that they were both fully dressed, nothing had happened. He remembered lying together for a while.
As his hand brushed his neck, he recalled Jenny saying, "It's strange being with you." Her voice was as warm as her skin, as lovely as her heart.
Opening the door to the room, he saw a sexy woman passing through the hallway into the other room. Their eyes met briefly.
As he walked groggily across the black-and-white checkered floor, he almost bumped into someone, but stopped.
The Japanese woman with slanted eyes looked at him in surprise, then turned to her left and continued on her way. She seemed in a hurry. Tim watched her fast steps with a grin on his left cheek.
He turned his head and clicked his tongue. "Am I the only one who takes what I say seriously?" he teased.
After finally breaking free from the suffocating corridor trapped under a low ceiling, he pushed the iron door and stepped outside.
The clock was glowing on the black screen across the street. It was daytime. He had to check the time again.
"Eight o'clock?" he muttered, uneasy.
Class was about to start. He stared at the clock for a while and, as he stood on the doorstep, he heard a thin female voice. "Excuse me," it said, with a foreign accent.
The woman who quickly passed him was the Japanese waitress, busy wiping her hand on her apron, which bore the name Conrad.
Tim felt the need to question her behavior. Was it his small confession last night that caused this? After taking his eyes off her, he walked to the cashier and caught up with her. "I have a bill from last night."
The woman was busy moving the card reader aside. "How much?" she asked, without looking up.
"I don't know, I blacked out," Tim replied.
"Then I don't know either," the woman said, her eyes on the floor. Tim felt awkward in front of the clearly uncomfortable woman. "Is there a problem?" he asked, his voice loaded with meaning, though he said it with an impressive tone.
His right hand touched the counter.
The woman immediately turned her back, saying she would go check on the computer. Tim carefully observed her movements.
The tremor in her left hand was clearly visible.
He left a few bills on the table, knowing it was more than enough, and walked out. The sun winked through the clouds in the light blue sky.
Cheerfully, he crossed the street in the morning rush. The cars were buzzing. Taylor had always hated cars.
They made so much noise that he'd put on his headphones, as if there was no way to block out the sound without them.
He always had dark circles under his eyes, and his wrists shared the same fate as his face. As Tim lit a cigarette and walked, he watched the shape of the smoke with his eyes.
He didn't know that one morning, he'd wake up to find he'd lost his best friend.
He wished he could fix things, but there was no way he could. He had never been capable of giving Taylor what he wanted.
When Taylor had run away from home and taken refuge in Tim's house, Tim had wanted to help him, but he had faced the harsh truth that he couldn't stop the psychological abuse Taylor had suffered from his family.
He entered the apartment and climbed the stairs. Looking down from the upper floor windows, he saw the ordinariness of the street below suddenly come to life with noise. A police car passed by, blaring its red and blue lights.
People's voices grew louder, and the hurried conversations of families could be heard behind some doors.
Tim inserted the key into the door and quietly closed it behind him. The house smelled of loneliness. He needed to work more on that project.
***
Flashback
Taylor was sitting on the couch, lost in something he was writing. He wore a hat that covered most of his face. He didn't let go of the notebook as Tim came in and threw his bag to the side. "You coming out?"
Closing the notebook tightly, Taylor said, "No," and suddenly sat up, pulling his knees in. "I have something to tell you."
Tim stood in the doorway, surprised, and leaned against the frame. "Yeah?" He raised an eyebrow.
Taylor took off his hoodie and extended the notebook, which he had been leaning on his arm. "I've been working on something. For a long time."
Tim glanced at him and said, "That's good." He still wasn't sure how to deal with the coldness between them since Taylor's unexpected confession of being gay.
He reached for the notebook and said, "Let's have a look." Taylor looked excited. "Will you always help me with this project?" he asked suddenly.
That night, the room was very quiet; outside, a storm raged. Then the rain began, and the wind made the tree branches tap against the building's windows.
"Promise me," said Taylor Wicken.
Tim smiled and walked toward the window with the notebook. "Of course," he said, holding the notebook up to the streetlight reflected through the window.
In the rain, the streetlight seemed to be flowing. "A lie compound? This sounds very fantastical."
His eyes moved across the page; Taylor's handwriting was beautiful, like pearls.
"Read it," Taylor said, stepping back.
Clutching his wrist with his other hand as if to cuff it, his eyes wandered over the raindrops hitting the window.
"This will be worth more than my life." His voice was a whisper, and he was eerily calm.
Tim flicked the page with his finger. He turned around, "I don't like hearing you say things like that—"
Taylor cut him off, saying, "I know." His head nodded on its own. "But I'm not being poetic."
Tim ignored him and continued reading. "The lie compound is a chemical formula designed to alter basic instincts.
Through reactions occurring within its structure, the molecules it breaks down into can cause desired changes in the body's biological functions. For worthless individuals incapable of controlling basic instincts, such as homosexuality..."
He closed the notebook and sat down on the couch.
He lit a cigarette.
---
He stared blankly at the wall, then took the notebook sitting in front of him and shut it in a drawer.
"I cared for him a lot, and I made a promise," he said. Then, as if he was talking to him directly, he muttered, "You destroyed yourself. Who knows where you've gone now? I'm so sorry."
It was one of those rare moments when his selfishness faltered. He turned around, grabbed the remote from the table, and turned on the news channel.
"Marie Carlton's body was found two days later in an empty warehouse. The killer left a note pinned to a hook that said: 'Can you find me? We're going to have so much fun.'"
Tim Carold looked at the screen coldly and smiled with a hint of pleasure. He rubbed the mark on his wrist. "We're going to have so much fun," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.
"Promise."
Her phone rang. It was Jenny. Her voice was shaking with a distant fear that was hard to grasp. "Hello, Tim."
Tim closed his eyes and imagined her lips. As if he could guess what she was going to say, she answered in sync with his question, "I'm not coming to school."
Jenny was stunned into silence. "Okay," she replied. "Actually, I wanted to…"
Tim lowered the volume on the news and said, "Yes," and he detected a hint of excitement in her tone.
"I am listening…"
"Ah," Jenny hesitated. "Yeah, what I mean to say is… I like you."
End of Chapter