Chapter Six
Two days and not a single answered call.
Not a single text message or even a poke on Facebook.
It was harder getting hold of Angel than it was getting hold of a slippery fish in a pond.
Samantha experienced an intense pang of frustration, willing her phone to light up with a notification. Any notification, for goodness’ sake.
She was sitting at her dining room table clicking away on her laptop.
One of Samantha’s jobs was to revamp a local hotel’s website in the hopes that it would attract more travelers.
Not only was the website itself rather old and boring, targeted at an entirely different generation, but it had a terrible color scheme, purple and orange.
The website reminded Samantha of Halloween and, given that the hotel was seaside with ocean-styled décor and furnishings; she was sure to give the hotel the theme it needed.
Every few minutes Samantha sent her gaze to her cell phone and sighed heavily when the screen remained dark.
Perhaps Angel was out of town on a fire mission.
Maybe she was so busy saving lives that she had no time to reply to the three missed calls and four text messages Samantha had sent over the course of the two days.
It was possible she was coming across as a little desperate, but then again, who cared?
Perhaps Angel had been caught in a fire, trapped within the flames, while they torturously seared her soft, silky skin and stole her breath.
At the thought, Samantha shivered. Her skin broke out in goosebumps, and she quickly opened a tab on Google and typed in ‘Recent firefighters dead in action in Huntington Beach’.
There were a few links to deceased firefighters who had died on duty, but none of them were recent and none of them were named Angel.
Breathing out in relief, Samantha touched her finger to the screen again, wrinkled her nose when it remained empty, and sat back in her chair.
The other answer, the one she didn’t feel like acknowledging, was dangling in front of her like a carrot on a stick.
Angel hadn’t enjoyed their date. Sex had been awful, and she had only pretended to climax. Clearly, Angel was ghosting her.
The goosebumps died and instead, a heavy weight lodged its way into her stomach and made her feel slightly sick.
Ghosted. Never before had Samantha experienced the painful stab of being purposefully ignored.
Breakups were less painful. Heck, her breakup with Veronica had stung a little less.
The difference was this; Samantha had no idea what she had done wrong, and worse, there was no way to find out the answer. Not unless Angel returned her calls.
Pushing her chair back, desperate to get some air, Samantha closed the lid of her laptop and headed outside.
Fresh air was one of the many things that cleared her head from its clutter.
Long walks on the beach were another, and so were rollercoaster rides, and road trips out of state, and fire dancing.
When none of those were appropriate, Samantha also enjoyed bothering Matty.
He worked from home, something in IT, and whenever she needed a little break from work, she usually knocked on his door until he opened it and welcomed her inside for a chat.
Walking down the path leading to the street in front of her house, Samantha turned left and headed to his house.
Once at the top step of the small half-circle porch, she banged her fist on the door and waited.
Footsteps thumped and then an incoherent mumble sounded and a second later, the door opened a sliver.
Matty stuck his head out. His hair was disheveled, and a glossy, blissful look sat thick in his eyes.
Judging by his exposed collarbone, he was shirtless.
“Samantha, what are you doing here? What’s wrong? Has something happened? Did you start another fire?” His eyes scanned the street for what she assumed was a fire truck. But the only commotion was Mrs. McDonald from three doors down, walking her three yapping Yorkies.
“Nothing’s wrong,” said Samantha with a shake of her head. “Well, not really. It’s just that Angel is ghosting me. We went on that date, remember? It was perfect, at least I thought it was, but she hasn’t called or—”
“Sam,” he interrupted, still keeping the door half ajar, his hand gripping its edge, almost secretively.
It wasn’t like him not to invite her in and offer her a beer.
It wasn’t like Matty to keep her at arm’s length, standing on the front porch like a salesman selling vacuum cleaners.
“Can we talk about this another time? I’m just a little… umm… preoccupied.”
She frowned. “With what?”
A smooth, honeyed voice sang in the background. “Matty, where are you, babe? Come back to bed. It’s getting chilly here without you.”
And then, a woman showed up behind him. She was stunning, with sharp, symmetrical features, chestnut brown hair and caramel colored skin. Her shoulders looked equally naked as Matty’s. Her lips were pink and if Samantha squinted, she noticed a faint twinge of pink on his lip.
“Hi. I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jade. It’s nice to meet you. Sorry, what’s your name?”
“Oh,” mumbled Samantha, suddenly understanding what was going on.
Matty had a woman over. He was having sex in the middle of the day.
“Hi. No…We haven’t met. I think I would’ve remembered if we had.
I’m Samantha.” She took a step back, eager to leave.
“And I’m obviously bothering the two of you. I’m really sorry.”
“You can join us if you want. If you’re not busy that is,” smiled the woman, much too sensually as she wrapped one arm along Matty’s chest. The door had opened slightly wider now.
Another nudge and she’d see Matty in all his glory and Samantha would prefer not to scar her poor mind with the image of his ‘love stick’.
Taking another step back off the front porch, Samantha experienced an unfamiliar sort of awkwardness that made her legs feel heavy and her mouth dry. “No, thank you. I’ve actually got to check on my… on my oven. I’ll see you another time, Matty.”
She spun around so quickly a few strands of her hair got caught in her mouth.
Not bothering to fix her hair, Samantha briskly walked away.
She felt a hot flush rising up her chest and to her neck.
As soon as she stepped into her house, she fell against the closed door and waved her hand up and down like a fan.
“Join us?” she said out loud. “Did Jade seriously just invite me to have a threesome with Matty? Good grief.”
Clearly, the day was full of firsts.
Feeling a little jittery from the adrenaline coursing through her veins, Samantha pushed herself up and headed to the spare bedroom. Now she needed to clear her head from Angel and the hotty with the chestnut brown hair, caramel colored skin and pink lips.
Opening up the hall closet, Samantha stood on her tippy toes and grabbed hold of a large rectangular box.
The only answer to her troubles was fire dancing.
She could lose herself completely in the act.
She could forget all about Angel. She could become a version of herself that wasn’t at all bothered by the little things.
With the box gripped in her arms, Samantha walked outside onto the deck, gave the scorched grass a quick, guilt-ridden glance, and set it down. It would take weeks for the grass to heal. At least her grandmother wasn’t there to see it.
Inside the box was a myriad of things, different staffs, poi balls for when she felt adventurous, and even a broken hoop that she had accidentally damaged during one of her tricks—Samantha was too sentimental to let it go.
In a small velvet pouch were four beaded necklaces, all in various shades of red and orange.
When the atmosphere was just right, she could imagine absorbing energy from the beads, and vice versa to ensure a constant flow of positivity.
She clipped one around her neck and checked her cell phone, which sat in the back pocket of her jean shorts.
It remained quiet. Trying not to give it any more of her valuable attention, Samantha grabbed the staff and headed to the center of her garden.
A deep breath in and she tried to center her attention, although she couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if she had said yes to the invitation.
Would she be in bed right now with the very attractive Jade, kissing her as deeply and passionately as she had kissed Angel?
Or would Matty be in bed with the two of them—
“Ugh!” she muttered. “Matty naked. Gross.”
Laughing to herself, Samantha felt better than she had all morning. At least her sense of humor was still fully intact. The day she said yes to having sex with Matty, was the day she booked herself into a convent.
Sticking earphones into her ears, her go-to-song Icarus by Ivan Torrent blaring through the tiny speakers, she flicked her wrist and lit a match before igniting the ends of her staff.
Flames burst to life.
Samantha immediately experienced the familiar, mesmerizing warmth against her skin as she gripped the staff firmly in her hands. This was it. This was the one moment in her life where she felt an incredible amount of peace, yet at the same time experienced a raging burst of adrenaline.
Nighttime would’ve been ideal, but she wasn’t opposed to drowning her sorrows in a late afternoon fire dance. If she managed to immerse herself completely in the act, she could go into the sunset.
It was only a couple of seconds before flames traced the sky and Samantha began to sink into a trance-like state.
As the tempo increased, so did Samantha’s movements.
Spinning and swirling, the flames trailed behind her and the heat licked her skin, although she paid no mind to it.
It was addictive, like a drug, but considerably healthier. Unless you set fire to your backyard.
“SAMANTHA!” called a voice suddenly from somewhere unseen. It was so loud and jarring that it pierced straight through the song coming from her earphones.
Startled, Samantha jerked, and the fire staff that had moments ago been clutched tightly in her right hand tumbled to the ground.