Dreaming Fire

DREAMING FIRE

BY

MERCED DAVIS

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 Merced Davis

Acknowledgments

The writing of this book would not have been possible without the love, support and never ending patience of my wonderful husband, and right hand, Jeffrey. The one who held my hand, wiped my tears, and wrangled children when I needed time and sanity. To my children, who sat next to me writing their own stories in crayon as they cheered me along and who reminded me of the delicacies that is a brother and sister relationship. A deep and special thank you goes out to my left, and very deliciously evil wrong hand, Regina Haigh who helped me storm through the nest of tangles that is my mind and helped me delve into the darkness and crawl back into the light again. You are the best twisted back-up a girl could ever have. I could not have done this without you. Thank you to my first readers, Anne Overbeck Davis, Holly Swallow, and Charis Ford, that, with all the grammatical errors, read through the many stages of this novel and dealt with the rollercoaster that is my craziness from beginning to end. Sorry. Much love to you. Thank you to my aunt Sonia Colon and my friends Melissa Ludwig and Kevin Burns for the reassurances, listening to my rants and keeping me focused along the path. To my editors Cherri and Kelly who broke out the red pens and helped me stay positive through the entire process. Last but certainly never least, thank you to the best big brother a girl can have, Antonio Merced for helping me believe in myself EVERY step of the way. Thank you for never wavering; you are the raging light in the darkness of my doubts.

For my fellow children of Y.E.S.

We were afraid but, we were brave.

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This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Dreaming Fire. Copyright 2013 by Barbara Merced Davis

Cover design by Barbara Merced Davis

No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For permissions or information, address merceddavis@comcast.net

Table of Contents:

1: A NIGHT OUT

2: DREAMING FIRE

3: ANGER IS MY FRIEND

4: AWAKENING

5: BEFORE YOU KILL ME

6: CAGE

7: HAIR ON FIRE

8: NICE PLACE

9: THROUGH THE TUNNELS

10: LUCKY CHARMS

11: HOME IS WHERE THE HEART DIES

12: RUN AWAY WITH ME

13: I WOULD HAVE DONE ANYTHING

14: DADDY IS A BEAST

15: BURNING KISS

16: ASSETS

1

A NIGHT OUT

Damn, you’re an ugly baby, Aidan whispered, ripping the empty glass bottle from her foster mother. Asleep the woman didn’t budge. Taking a deep breath Aidan gave the floral couch a swift kick on its side. The thumping sound from the couch was chased by a crackled moan, breaking the silence of the dim room. Her gravely whine of protest was muffled by the overstuffed couch cushions as the older woman drunkenly rolled away. The bottom of the bottle hit hard against the wooden coffee table as Aidan put it down. Gritting her teeth she kicked the couch again, harder.

Shit! the word exploded from her mouth before she could stop it. Balancing on one leg she grabbed at her injured toes through the soft black leather of her boots, giving a little whimper. The smell of cigarette smoke and ashes wafted into her face making her lose her center as she gagged at the stench. Clumsily she wobbled trying not to fall, but overcorrected hitting her shin on the table. A pathetic growl escaped her throat as she dropped her injured foot to the ground and bent to massage her bruised shin. Lifting her hoodie she used it to wave away the smell of old cigarette ash before slipping her arms into the thin black fabric.

Do you have to make so much noise? the woman griped into the crease of the couch cushions.

An incredulous look crossed Aidan’s face as she looked over at her foster mother, face down, on the couch. Her full lips disappeared as she gathered her composure. I’m heading out, she answered after a moment, zipping herself up and sliding her hands into the pockets of her jacket. She knew she should probably feel guilty but she didn’t. It happened too often.

This got the woman’s attention and she eased herself into a sitting position, rubbing her head as if the friction could somehow spark the world into coherence. Short gray hairs stood from the assault. Leaning forward she grabbed a pack of cigarettes off the log-style coffee table. Aidan waited as the customary show of maternal concern began with the woman’s first drag.

Where? She exhaled, releasing the cloud of smoke from her lungs, her head turned away from Aidan, as if she was doing her a favor.

The Lair.

Aren’t you too young? the older woman asked, absently tilting her empty glass and examining its lack of contents. Disappointed, she let the glass rock back into place. Let me guess, that boy is letting you in. The sharp tone punctuated her annoyance but Aidan knew it had more to do with the lack of alcohol than their conversation.

I’m allowed in til’ ten. Aidan glanced at the antique clock on the sparsely decorated wall, already tiring of the exchange. There were no pictures of family or friends, no other foster children either. No memories or evidence of a life lived. They were similar in so many ways. Delayed guilt weighed Aidan’s shoulders down as she looked back at the other woman.

Tapping her cigarette in the overfull ashtray her foster mother leaned back against the cushions, leveling her gaze on the television at the far end of the room. Even though it was on mute she snickered at some event on the screen as if she had been following the silent drama the entire time. How are you getting there?

Walking.

Do you have your cell?

Yup.

You get caught there after hours … she glanced up at Aidan, and I’ll say I didn’t know you left the house. She took another drag. Do you understand?

Got it. Thanks, Mom, Aidan said, leaning over and giving her a kiss on the top of the head before turning to the door.

Many foster parents ago she learned to address them as Mom and Dad. It made life a lot easier. It was a cheap game to play but this close to being out of the system, you don’t fight what works. It was a lesson she learned the hard way. Now was the time for planning and patience. Lots and lots of patience.

Shivering in the cool, autumn night air she hopped down the wide brownstone steps, her brand new boots tapping against its hard surface and adding to the cacophony of a Philadelphia Friday night. The strong winds funneling through the concrete and bricks sent her long black hair whipping around her face. Lifting the hood of her thin jacket she realized it was a poor choice of cover against the elements but it was the only thing she was willing to lose in the club tonight. Every penny counted and if she lost the cheap jacket, no harm done, it would be easy to replace.

The thought of her eighteenth birthday and freedom, only days away, popped into her mind causing an instant flutter of anticipation. The acceptance letter she just received from Temple University was the perfect early birthday gift. It was also the reason she splurged on the boots. Even if no one knew she had actually gotten in, she wanted to celebrate her own success. The only thing that could top it would be her older brother’s willingness to stay in Philadelphia after her birthday.

Taking a detour she circled City Hall, stopping at the northeast corner across from the massive structure. Looking up at the starless sky she imagined stars there like diamonds hidden behind the glare of city lights and skyscrapers; the rolling traffic sounding like waves in an ocean known only to her. Her own personal haven.

Inhaling the city’s heavy perfume deep into her lungs, she pinched her eyes closed willing the rest of the world away. She knew it was a childish tradition but she couldn’t let it go. Hey Willy, I did it. I got in. A smile spread across her face as she opened her eyes and looked up at the statue of William Penn, atop City Hall. Ever since she was a small girl she spoke to the statue that stood sentry over the city and used him as her conveyor of wishes to the stars she couldn’t see.

Now if we can only get Devon to stay here so I can actually go to Temple, that would be great. She took a quick look around to make sure no one was listening. Although, even if someone were, she knew in this city the locals would just give her a wide berth dismissing her just the same. But she did try to look mentally stable, usually. Let’s see what we can do about that, all right? She imagined his extended hand reaching down for her words to lift them into the sky.

The sound of a couple hurrying past her brought her attention back down to earth and an almost silent motorcycle sitting at the curb. The helmetless rider sitting on the black beast looked between her and the statue before raising an eyebrow at her in question. Heat crept up her cheeks at being caught, but she refused to let the stranger bother her; tonight was a good night. Stalk much? she said, giving him a pointed look before turning away. Catching the grin that split his bright red lips out of the corner of her eye, she looked back to William Penn. She lifted her hand giving him a thumbs-up in a silent agreement and farewell. Slowly she made her way south to the club.

Traffic buzzed, cars honked and sirens wailed, each step reminding her that the stars were hardly ever in her favor, so school was probably a secret she would be keeping to herself. Telling her brother about the acceptance letter wasn’t even an option. He was ready to find their parents, not stay in Philly any longer than necessary. She knew he would stay if she asked but would he resent her for it? It wasn’t a risk she was willing to take. Devon was all she had and college wasn’t going anywhere. They’d already spent too many years apart.

Letting her shoulders drop she weaved her way through the city streets trying to enjoy the energy coming from the weekend invaders walking and laughing in clusters around her. After a few blocks a heavy industrial metal door stood before her at the back of the club. The door was painted gunmetal grey to blend with the custom dark brick façade. The only thing bringing any attention to it was the security light that reflected a sickly yellow hue down on anything that dare impede its territory.

Huh! she exhaled softly, noticing how empty the alley was for a Friday night. Lifting her frozen hand she beat the proper sequence into the door. The vibration continued through her hand and up her arm even after it fell away from the cold metal.

A walk around! she blurted into the darkness, remembering the bouncers did periodic circuits of the block to make sure no one was making trouble. Sometimes there was too much love to be shared in the City of Brotherly Love and it seemed to always happen behind The Lair.

Aidan felt a blush creep across her cheeks at the memory of a couple she’d accidently interrupted just the week before. Instead of separating from embarrassment the couple invited her to join them. It only took a moment for the shock to pass before she told them how uninterested she was with a quick hand gesture.

The back door scraped across its threshold, snapping her out of her thoughts. A looming figure eyed her up and down. His dark eyes were narrowed to slits as he took her in, his lip lifting in an intimidating snarl that most men would cower from. Even with the door open almost all the way his body took up the entire space, not allowing her entrance or much light to escape from the inner room.

You’re late. His deep voice ricocheted against the brick walls wrapping around her like an iron fist.

I’m cold. Move, she said, trying not to smile and showing no sign of fear to his attempts of intimidation. The look of disgust that crossed his face made it hard for her not to show all her pearly whites.

Girl, you don’t come to my house and talk to me like that without giving me some love first. The security light glowed around his tightly trimmed dark hair like a halo.

Keeping her hands in her jacket pockets, Aidan stepped forward bringing herself chin to chest with him. Lazily she trailed her gaze up the length of him before settling on his deep brown eyes. Raising an eyebrow she gave him a slight nod waiting for him to make the next move. It didn’t take long. Just as she thought she could stare at him all night, his face relaxed as he bent down wrapping two massive arms around her. He lifted her off of the ground, giving her a bear hug as she laughed at his efforts not to crush her.

Thanks Binky, she said quickly, giving him a big loud playful kiss on the cheek before he could lower her back to the ground. At least I’m alone this time, she teased.

Remembering the couple from the previous week, he glanced up scanning the alley over her head before relaxing again. Beaming at him, she watched her over-sized security blanket step to the side. With the metal door scraping closed behind her, the sterile fluorescent lights of the security room replaced the soothing dimness of night like an assault on the senses.

The din of the music seeping into the back office greeted her from the main floor, like a balm. The thought of the warm throbbing crowd out on the floor dancing called to her, thawing out her chilled bones.

If I would have known you were going to be late, I could have come at my regular time, he said, stepping around her to check the monitors. They showed the admittance line going from the club’s main entrance, extending down to the sidewalk and wrapping around the side of the building. Friday nights were always like that at The Lair. Especially since they only let the under-eighteen crowd in until ten and then ejected them all out at eleven. This was a very busy time for them.

Sorry, I got out of work late. She shrugged. Wait a minute, as the owner’s son AND the future owner, don’t you get to come in whenever you want? She finished unzipping her jacket and tossed it on the brown leather couch on the opposite side of the monitoring station. Waiting for an answer Aidan turned to find her friend’s horrified expression gaping at her. What? she asked, self-consciously looking down at herself and frantically running her hands over her clothes to make sure everything was where it should be.

Thank God, she said with an audible sigh of relief as she realized there were no wardrobe malfunctions. Don’t scare me like that; I thought I was flashing.

No wonder you’re always cold. You forgot to put on the rest of your shirt! He waved a large hand up and down in front of her as if she needed help knowing what area of her body her shirt should cover.

Really, Grandpa? she said, placing a hand on her jean-clad hip. She loved Braxton. He was the first friend she’d made coming back to Philadelphia, for the third time as the system transferred her from foster home to foster home. Since the first night they met he made it his personal mission to look out for her. He was seriously annoying about it, too, most of the time but she knew he meant well.

I get hot quickly, she said, gesturing to the green lace baby doll tank she had on.

You know what? he asked, taking another glance at the monitors. You really need to get your temperature gauge fixed. You’re starting to sound like my mom when she was going through the menopause and you are way too young for that, he finished, looking back at her with more concern in his eyes than the foster mother she’d just left. A sudden mental flash of the old brownstone erupting in flames stunned her. She quickly shook her head, dispelling the image and blaming it on the chain smoking alcoholic scene she had just left behind.

Shrugging her shoulders she turned toward the door. See you at eleven? she asked, smiling back at him.

Eleven fifteen, after position change. Save me a dance? he asked, following her to the door.

If you come out now I won’t have to save you any. They can all be yours, she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

If only you were serious, he said in a strained voice sending a tremor of excitement over her. When Braxton stepped out on the floor with her it was amazing. He had a skill out on that floor that couldn’t be practiced in front of the bedroom mirror or in a class. It was natural. And because of his size the effortlessness of his movements seemed even more mesmerizing.

Cursing herself for teasing him, she turned away from his now intense stare and made her way through the back of the bar on unsteady legs. She could feel the heat of his eyes following her the entire way, threatening to pull her back. It wasn’t fair to do that to him when she knew there was no more time for them. It wasn’t fair for either of them.

Closing her eyes to dispel the flutter of emotions assaulting her stomach, she imagined Braxton lowering his lips to meet hers. Her chest clenched painfully as their lips met, sorrow suddenly overtaking her as he kissed her. A kiss they would never share, but in her mind seemed so real. The sadness of the thought stole her breath, causing it to hitch as her fingers brushed her lips. She opened her eyes to the flashing lights of the club in front of her. Damn your imagination Aid, get it under control, she whispered to herself.

Dabbing at the moisture in her eyes and taking a deep breath, she waved at the two women behind the high polished wooden slab hustling drinks to the crowd. They both paused giving her a big welcoming smile before turning away a group of teens trying to order beers. One of the girls glanced at her watch in frustration while the teens walked away. In an hour the underage crowd would be identified with their hand stamps and filtered out so the real show could start and tonight it looked like the staff could hardly wait. Aidan rubbed her unstamped hands, grateful for her friendship with Braxton and the rest of the employees.

Making her way out into the warmth of the swaying bodies she let the bass of the music bring her body up to speed with the rest of the crowd. She danced her way around the flailing arms and gyrating hips, edging her way closer to the center of the floor. The energy of the crowd was intoxicating as she closed her eyes savoring the sensation, trying to lose herself in the rhythm of