Sinner

Didn’t you always want me this way?

On-sale late-night going-out-of-business

I’m so much cheaper.

The roads were eerie and deserted. Even the bars were closed. The lack of people and sun somehow emphasized the lack of grass and foliage beside the sidewalk. This place was carved from concrete. On the radio, my voice was still bitter. I didn’t turn it off.

Don’t pretend you like me

The beach parking lot was empty, and when I opened the car door, the air was frigid.

That this is about me

Frigid was good. It would make this last longer.

I’ ll be just a story in your wild youth

I took my things and padded barefoot across the sand toward the ocean. I stripped down. There was no one to see me except for the black, starless sky, and the blacker silhouettes of the palms at the edge of the parking lot. I put the needle into my skin.

God you’re a villain a villain

I could be caught, of course. Someone might see me as I ran through the surf as a wolf. Or someone might see me in nine or fifteen or twenty-two minutes when I had turned back into a na**d human. Or possibly, very possibly, someone could see the very moment of transformation.

But they wouldn’t. Statistically, they wouldn’t.

And the threat wasn’t enough to stop me. I waited as my veins began to howl and my nerves started to shudder. If there was a way to make my thoughts go before the pain, the screaming pain of the shift, this would be the perfect escape. The cleanest drug, the sanest mental vacation.

Sometimes I forgot how filthy the drugs had made me. But it was like Baby said. I was pretty now.

Villain villain villain

And then, finally, I was a wolf. The sand on my paws, cool and damp and endless. No colors to miss on the night beach.

Just sound and smell and wind hissing past my ears as I ran.

Every thought was an image.

I came to crouching in the freezing surf. There was no one around. The beach was still empty. I had gotten away with it, which somehow made me feel worse. It was only me who knew the truth about me, but that was enough. Everyone else had already guessed.

I was always him, always Cole St. Clair.

And I could still hear Isabel’s voice as she said, I don’t believe in happy endings.

Chapter Twenty-Six

· isabel ·

internet: Hey, Cole St. Clair, is it true you got kicked out of Yuzu?

virtual cole: for being awesome internet: My buddy said it was because you were shooting up in their bathroom.

virtual cole: you need new buddies internet: LOLOL love you man virtual cole: really who doesn’t internet: Will you ever do another song like “Villain”?

internet: Who is that girl we saw on the last episode?

virtual cole: superhot alien internet: dump her! I luv u cole!

virtual cole: superhot alien would destroy planet virtual cole: really im saving the world (no really) virtual cole: thank me now internet: she wouldnt have 2 know haha lol internet: Are we ever going to see Victor again?

NARKOTIKA rocked!

virtual cole:

internet: Great to see you and Jeremy playing together!

How about Victor?

virtual cole:

internet: OK let’s have Victor now!!!!!!

virtual cole: you guys are going to give leyla a vegan breakdown

internet: hahaha no but really NARKOTIKA 4EVER

internet: What do you want for your birthday?

virtual cole: to stay young forever Cole texted me:

Actually I want you

Chapter Twenty-Seven

· cole ·

Baby called me and said, “Happy birthday. Are you ready for your surprise?”

I was standing in the rental house next door to my apartment; I’d broken in right after I’d had breakfast. And by breakfast, I mean a banana lying in a hot dog bun, and by breaking in, I mean I found out that one of the rear sliding doors was unlocked. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea that it was my birthday, even though I couldn’t say exactly why. I said, “Am I going to like it?”

“I worked very hard on it.”

“Can I get a hint?”

“Just enjoy the ride,” Baby said. “You might want to put on pants for this. I hope you’ve been writing some music.”

The first surprise arrived on my doorstep at ten a.m. Actually, it didn’t quite arrive on my doorstep. It arrived in the alley behind the house and made really loud noises until I climbed up onto the roof deck to see what was happening.

Down below was a brilliant cerulean Lamborghini revving its engine repeatedly. For a brief moment, I thought, That’s quite a present, and then I realized that the present was actually sitting behind the driver’s wheel in the form of a small, gorgeous Latina with white aviator sunglasses on. She looked both richer and more famous than me, because she was. My heart gave an involuntary lurch.

Oh, Baby, you clever bastard, I thought.

“Magdalene,” I called down. “How nice of you to stop by.”

When I had first met Magdalene, she had just been discovered in some small town in Arkansas or Georgia or South Carolina, the daughter of a sometime mechanic who entertained herself joyriding and singing in shopping malls. She’d just graduated from high school and released her first EP and was looking for some exposure.

She recorded “Spacebar” with us and then we went our separate ways. By which I mean, I went on to make NARKOTIKA famous in a few different countries and then pass out in my own drool. And she went on to record one of the top five selling dance albums of the decade, marry and divorce two actors and one actress in two years, lose and regain her driving license for running a street-racing ring, and star in one of the movies in the Clutch franchise — the only one that made any money. I still had a poster she sent me. With a metallic blue marker, she’d written on it: Shut up (and Drive), Cole

I understood that she had the largest collection of sky blue supercars in North America.

She was also the nicest drunk I’d ever known. Once upon a dangerous time, I’d had the biggest crush on her. I was quite certain Baby knew both of these things. I wondered what she was hoping I’d do with this episode.

“Happy birthday, Cole St. Clair!” Magdalene gave the Lambo another rev. Wind came from somewhere and lifted her black hair. The ripple of the strands suggested that they had been constructed by a team of specialists. “Get in this car before I run out of gas!”

I leaned over the railing, taking in the blueness of the car. I noticed that T was parked behind her in a van, recording every second. Also, Magdalene had a tactful little mic clipped on her glittery tank top.

“Where are we going?” I asked loudly.